Page 23 of Brick's Retribution

"Shit," I mutter. "They found us."

Imani's expression hardens with determination. "Plan B?"

"Side window. Now."

We circle around to the back of the cabin, keeping low.

The small bathroom window is our only option—barely big enough for Imani to squeeze through, and a tight fit for me, but we don't have a choice.

I boost her up first, supporting her weight as she wriggles through the narrow opening. A moment later, her hand appears, reaching down to help pull me up.

It's an awkward, ungraceful entry, but we make it, dropping quietly onto the bathroom floor.

Through the thin walls, we can hear voices outside—men giving orders, organizing a search pattern.

They're thorough, professional. And they're getting closer.

We grab our bags in silence, essential items only.

I shoulder my medical kit—won't leave that behind—and check my weapon.

Imani does the same, her movements precise and efficient.

The voices are right outside our door now.

Any second, they'll check the room and find us.

There's only one option left.

"When I say go, we run for the bike," I whisper, positioning myself by the bathroom window. "Full speed, no hesitation. I'll cover you."

She nods, adjusting her grip on her bag. "And if they start shooting?"

"Then I'll shoot back." I meet her eyes in the dim light. "I'm getting you to Chihuahua alive, Imani. That's a promise."

She reaches out, her fingers brushing my arm in a gesture that feels more intimate than it should.

"Ready," she whispers.

A key scrapes in the lock of our room door.

"Go!" I push her toward the window, covering her escape as she slips out into the night.

I follow immediately after, hitting the ground in a crouch just as shouts erupt behind us.

They've found the empty room and the open bathroom window.

We sprint for the bike, zigzagging to make harder targets.

A shot rings out, kicking up dust near my feet.

Then another, much closer.

Imani reaches the bike first, throwing her bag on and preparing to mount.

I'm seconds behind her when pain explodes across my ribs—a bullet graze, not a direct hit, but enough to steal my breath for a critical moment.

Imani turns back, reaching for me. "Brick!"

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