Page 79 of Cooper

“Marcus!” I scream his name as the road right next to the van explodes.

TWENTY-SEVEN

Cooper

“God dammit!”I watch in horror as the van Marcus is driving careens onto its side and slides into the woods, coming to a crashing stop against the trees.

I slam on the brakes and turn the wheel so my back end drifts out. My gun is already in my hand as we stop. There’s no way in hell I’ll leave Marcus here alone, potentially injured.

Fuck that noise.

Memories of Iraq come rushing back, but I push them away.

I can unpack that shit in therapy, but right now Marcus needs us.

Natalia’s already grabbed several magazines out of the glove box and shoved them in her pants.

“We don’t know how many are in the van,” I tell her.

“I’m watching.” She looks out the window. “I see three.”

“Another one coming out of the back.”

“If it’s four or five, we can take them,” she says firmly.

I want to laugh at her positivity, but it’s not funny.

Two masked men move toward the van and before I can react, Natalia takes one of them out.

Damn. I knew she was a hell of a shot, but I hadn’t realized just how good.

I fire at one of the others but miss since they’re moving faster now that they realize we’re not going down without a fight.

Someone yells something, and I realize it’s in Arabic.

So they’re after our prisoner.

We still don’t even know the guy’s name, which is unfortunate, but maybe we can change that if we can capture at least one of these assholes alive.

“We can’t kill them all,” I say to Natalia. “Keeping at least one alive helps us figure out what we’re dealing with.”

“I like taking out kneecaps,” she replies, and then does exactly that when a fifth guy climbs out of the van.

He collapses, howling in pain, and I shoot the driver.

We’re down to three now, but two of them have reached the van and there’s no sign that Marcus is able to protect himself.

“I’m going for Marcus!” I yell to her. “Cover me.”

Natalia starts firing like a maniac, and the three remaining assassins take cover, giving me time to get to the driver’s side of Marcus’s van, which also provides me with some protection.

“Marcus!”

“I’m here.” His voice is low. “I think my arm’s broken. I can’t get the damn seatbelt off.”

“I’ve got you, man.”

Natalia is still firing, so I slice through the seatbelt with my knife and hand Marcus his gun. He drops down beside me, his left arm hanging limply at his side.

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