Page 125 of Enemy of My Enemy
The crash helped Adam, and he skirted the commotion and lunged, tackling Noah around the shoulders as Noah tried to spin and make a break for it past a stand selling bruised tomatoes. They toppled sideways and landed in a heap of squished fruit and dust.
Adam rolled on top of Noah, shoving him down face-first. “The hell is wrong with you?” he shouted. “What the hell are you doing?”
Sirens blared. Angry Arabic shouted, voices directing the police to them.
“Shit.” Hauling Noah to his feet, Adam shoved him forward, one hand wrapped around his neck, the other bending back an arm, holding it behind him. “Get moving!”
They jogged together, Adam pushing him left and right through the souk, winding into the darkness and heading for the far side. Noah seemed just as interested in avoiding the police as Adam was, and he used that. Still, he held tight to Noah’s neck, his fingers digging into the soft flesh.
When they burst from the souk, into the sunshine on a dusty side street, Adam hauled Noah into a rancid alley and threw him against the mud brick wall before slugging him across the face. “What the fuck is going on, Noah?”
Noah spat blood to the dust. His eyes stayed low, fixed on the ground.
“What the fuck are you doing working for Madigan? That’s not you! You’re the guy who tattled on the senior prank in high school because you thought it was disrespectful!”
Noah’s gaze darted around the alley, frantic. Adam crowded closer, shoving him against the crumbling wall. “I looked up to you, damn it.”
Stilling, Noah’s eyes flicked to Adam. He squinted, holding his stare, before he burst into a whirlwind.
His leg kicked sideways, catching Adam’s ankle. His arms spun, breaking Adam’s hold. He kneed Adam in the stomach and dropped him in the dust.
Adam rolled to his feet. He grabbed Noah from behind and dragged him down, punching him hard in both kidneys.
Grunting, Noah tried to roll Adam off, but Adam clung on, holding him from behind in a headlock with his legs wrapped around Noah’s waist.
Noah slammed his head back, once, twice, three time. Dazed, Adam didn’t see the elbow flying toward his face. He fell back, and Noah scrambled to his feet.
Instead of running, he turned back, hands held in loose fists.
Adam rose and reached for the gun tucked into his waistband. “What the fuck? Talk to me. Tell me why. What the fuck is worth sixteen years as a ghost?”
Snarling, Noah charged. He ran right for Adam, his fists flying.
Adam aimed low, firing twice into Noah’s knees. Blood flew, staining the dust and mud brick as Noah stumbled but kept coming. Lunging, he wrapped his arms around Adam and tackled him.
Their hands scrabbled for Adam’s gun.
Adam’s finger snapped as Noah ripped the gun sideways. Adam howled, his finger broken and tangled in the trigger guard.
Noah straddled him, his heavy weight pinning Adam to the dust.
Adam shoved at him, his face, his neck, his palm sliding on sweat and grit.
Noah pressed on his arm, his hand holding the gun, and started to turn it toward Adam.
“Fuck…” Thrashing, Adam tried to buck Noah, tried to get free. Noah punched him once, slamming his fist into Adam’s temple, and leaned, pressing his forearm into Adam’s throat and cutting off his breath.
Gasping, Adam tried to shove him off. Tried to pinwheel his legs.
It was like trying to move a mountain.
His broken finger pulled. He grit his teeth, his arm, his hand shaking as he tried to fight Noah, fight the gun turning toward his face. Still, the barrel kept moving, almost aiming for straight for his head.
Noah watched him, taking in everything—Adam’s gasps for breath, his bloody hands, split knuckles, his wide eyes, his raw panic. Noah stared, unblinking, as if waiting.
He leaned down, pressed his own temple against the barrel, his cheek resting right on top of Adam’s, and forced his finger on top of Adam’s broken one.
The trigger squeezed.
