Page 41 of Strider's Misstep

“Shotgun will take the others to the side door,” I finish for him. There’s only one thing left to say. “Let’s fuckin’ ride.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

JASMINE

“Can you fire a gun?”

That’s one skill I have got, so confidently, I reply to Helo, “Yeah, Buzz and Shotgun took me out to their range a few times.”

She’s frisked the unconscious guard and passes his weapon over to me.

“Er,” I hesitate. “Wouldn’t it be better if you took this?”

She grins and barks a short laugh. “As long as you can hit a big-ass target, then no. I’m better with this.” She holds up an evil-looking knife. “And my bare hands. Unless you’re a jujitsu expert and haven’t told me.”

Despite the circumstances, never mind that my husband’s dead body is at my feet, I have to smile. “Nah, I’ve no hidden talents.”

“Then let’s get ourselves out.” She holds out her fist and I bump it with mine.

But as I look at the door and remember at least one of my previous rapists is somewhere behind it, my nerves show themselves. “Helo?” I can’t rid the panic from my tone.“Shouldn’t we just wait here? Chaz will be looking for you.” And if she’s right about Strider, he will be too.

With only a slight indrawn and exhaled breath to reveal she’s sighed, she replies patiently, “I’m sure that the Soulz are moving heaven and earth trying to find us. But there’s no guarantee they’re going to discover where we are. We’re not going to stay undisturbed for ever. Sooner or later, someone will come down, or sleeping beauty there will wake up.” She jerks her head toward the unconscious body on the ground. “Unless you want me to silence him permanently, we need to act now while we’ve got the element of surprise.”

I’ve astounded myself with my lack of compassion for Barclay’s demise, relief being my foremost emotion. And though I doubt the man who accompanied him has less evil intentions than him, I’m squeamish and don’t want to witness him being killed in cold blood.

Helo’s obviously preparing to leave and goes toward the stairs. Not wanting to be left behind, I follow her up. Slowly and quietly, she opens the door. It leads to a small hallway that has been left unguarded. We both step through, then she turns and locks the door behind us.

Voices reach us from somewhere. Her finger to her mouth, Helo beckons me to be quiet. She appears to be listening, I suppose, to precisely locate where they are, and how many there are of them.

When I start to pick out the words they’re saying, bile rises in my throat. They’re talking about me and her and all of the perverted things they’d like to do to us. As I inhale sharply, Helo’s hand reaches out and squeezes mine, a sign of solidarity. The stiffening of her body suggests she’s not unaffected.

She holds up three fingers and raises a quizzical brow. Trying to divorce myself from the sentiment and count up the different tones, I nod, confirming that I think she’s right. Her brief nod ofreassurance and quick quirk of her lips implies she’s okay with those odds.

Gripping the pistol more firmly, checking the safety is off, I brace myself. I’ve never considered myself a fighter. Barclay’s death has opened up a new world of freedom in front of me, completing the process for which my father had sacrificed his life. I’m determined to do everything I can not to waste the chance I’ve been given.

Footsteps sound and a voice calls out, close enough we can hear the words clearly. “I’ll check on the boss. Thought I’d be hearing screams by now.” His mirthful tone sends shivers down my spine.

“You just wanna join in,” another shouts.

Helo stealthily moves to position herself before the turn in the hallway. A man appears. He sees me, but before he can do anything more than open his mouth, his throat is cut and he’s bleeding out on the floor.

I suppose Helo used hand signals in her previous employment, but I’ve no clue what she’s trying to signal. Exasperated when she sees I can’t understand her, she moves close and murmurs into my ear.

“We’ll take them by surprise before they get curious to see what’s happened to their friend. As soon as we get an eye line on them, you shoot the one on the right.”

Bemused, I whisper back, “How do you know it should be the one on the right?”

Her eyes roll, but she manages to keep the sarcasm controlled and out of her voice. “There are only two. If I know which one you’re taking out, I can concentrate on the other.”

Okay. Right.I feel really dumb right now, but I’ve never been trained in battle, so maybe she’ll give me a pass.

I understand the countdown when she holds three fingers up and moves one down. As the third descends, we advance, side by side.

There are two men playing cards. Neither notices our entry. That doesn’t stop Helo. She’s got her arm wrapped around the throat of the man on the left, and just like his companion, slits his throat without pausing to take a breath.

Me? I freeze. Firing at a target is nothing like shooting at a person, knowing I’m going to take his life, or at the least, probably making him regret having to live the rest of it. How can I just kill a man who’s been taken by surprise and who is currently sitting, jaw dropped, staring at his friend, who Helo just took out right in front of his eyes?

He’s no threat, is he? It looks like he’s just going to put his cards down and surrender…

---