Page 68 of The Devil's Viking

“Master Gideon is going to kill you,” the younger guy said. “There isno waythat any of you walk away from this.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll see,” said Drake as he texted his brother a message to get the women moving. “But with morons like you running the show, I like our odds. Seems that all you’rereallygood for is beating on drugged, defenceless women. When you’ve got another man in your sights, you’re fucking useless.”

“On your knees,” Ice snapped. “Hands behind your heads. One wrong move and I’ll smash your goddamn faces in, then I’ll tie you up anyway. You guys choose how you want things to go down here.”

Totally uninterested in anything happening in the booth, Viking stepped into the compound and looked to the left. His heart was beating double-time in his chest, and all he wanted was to see Elle again. He hoped hard that she wasn’t hurt.

Drake came over and stood next to him. “Dux texted back that he’s cut through the fence and he’s got them. They’re moving now.”

“Are they OK?”

“Seem to be. He hasn’t asked for any help.”

All Viking wanted to do was take off at a run around the side of the structure and get to Elle. But Ice had relentlessly drilled everyone on their jobs, and he’d told Viking that if he couldn’t be trusted to hold his position at the front gate, then he wouldn’t be allowed to take part. So Viking held his ground, watching the front door of the building, ready to shoot anyone that came out if it came to that.

Ice joined them, gave the bound men in the booth a contemptuous glance back over his shoulder. “It’s pretty damn clear that this Gideon prick doesn’t recruit the best and the brightest – these guys are stupid and mean and that’s about it.”

“Yeah, well.” Drake shrugged. “Cowards and weaklings rule by fear, so forthatthey need people who they can make afraid. Besides, he doesn’t want to worry about the guys with guns challenging him, right? You think he’s worried about getting toppled off his throne by Dumb and Dumber in there?Hell, no.”

Drake squinted as he saw movement over by the far wall. “Look.”

“Thank Christ,” Viking breathed as the small group appeared. Dux was leading them, Briley was taking up the rear, and they kept Elle and a woman sandwiched between them. “Almost there.”

“Not true,” Ice reproved him. “This is the danger zone boys – if anything is going to happen, it’ll be in these twenty feet of concrete. Don’t get sloppy and complacent now.”

Viking stared hard at his woman, his eyes taking note of the bruises on her beautiful face, the long shirt that went to her knees, the socked feet. She was holding the other woman’s hand, tugging her along, and he got the distinct impression that the brunette was out of it, either drugged or maybe she’d suffered a blow to the head. The kindly doctor in him was worried about the injuries, but the enraged beast in him was ready to beat senseless the people who had done this to them.

They were close now, close enough that Viking really started to believe that they were going to drive on out of this place without any problems – and as soon as he finished having the thought, that was when all hell broke loose.

The first shots came from the roof, the bullets hitting the ground inches from Dux’s boot. Right away, so fast that it seemed that he didn’t eventhink, Ice fired back into the night sky. There was a curse from above, and the sound of a body hitting the ground and then dragging itself away. Injured wasn’t quite as good as dead, but the man was in retreat, so they’d take it.

“Come on!” Drake hollered at his brother, as he scanned the now-darkened building anxiously. “Moveit, man!”

The group was running now, but they weren’t going to get away unscathed: gun barrels poked through the front windows, and the shots rolled away and echoed all around them. Briley dove behind a tree, while Dux grabbed Elle and the woman and practically carried them, one under each arm. That was when he went down.

“Dux!” Drake shouted as the two women hit the ground and cried out in pain. “Jesus Christ.”

“Go!” Ice commanded. “Get them!”

Drake darted forward, ducking to avoid getting hit by Ice and Viking, who had hidden behind a white van and were unloading round after round through the building windows. He crawled to his brother and the women, his heartbeat and breath steady and even. This is what years of taking fire did to a man and good damn thing, because this was no time for hysterics and panic. Indulge in the luxury of fear and you died, guaranteed. It also helped that the shooting from the windows had stopped while he was moving: Ice, Viking and Briley had forced the men down to the floor, or maybe even back further into the building.

He crawled the last few feet, saw that Elle and the other woman were face-down on the ground, their heads gripped in Dux’s large hands, their upper bodies covered by his arms. They were shaking but staying put, which made things immeasurably easier. People running off wildly in all directions would be a headache right about now.

“Hey,” Drake said. “You better not be dead, man.”

“No such luck.” Dux’s face was on the ground and his voice was muffled. “You’re still stuck with me.”

“It’s your leg?”

“Yeah. Caught me in the back of the fucking thigh. I can’t walk.”

“You can pull yourself.”

“Shit.” Dux turned his face and grinned. “Here I thought I’d get a fireman’s carry out of you, but no such luck. Lazy bastard.”

“Maybe next time you get shot, big brother,” Drake said, using the one and only term of endearment that he had for Dux, one that he used rarely.

“Don’t call me that!” Dux scolded. “Makes me think I’m gonna die.”

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