Page 8 of Loving Leila
I look around and see the guys headed my way, listening, like me. Fuck, we’ve missed at least one hijacker, and now Ace and Leila’s lives are on the line. I take a second to explain the situation to the other team leader before the six of us take off sprinting. My gut’s clenched in fear, and nausea is a sour taste in my mouth.
My body jerks as I hear gunfire and Leila scream.
Terror is a living, breathing thing inside me, and my legs can’t carry me to where they are fast enough. Knowing that Leila is out in the world, even if she can’t be mine, has brought me comfort. The thought of her vibrant spirit and bubbly personality being snuffed out when we can save her is intolerable. A world without her just doesn’t bear thinking.
But I can’t think like that. I need to pull it together. Leila and Ace are relying on us to save them, and the guys are looking to me to make necessary decisions to do that. The last time I felt fear like this was the day I watched my best friend die. Nobody dies on my watch today.
Thankfully, the door is open, and we’re able to see what’s going inside the room. Ace is shielding Leila with his body, and a heavily armed man is raving like a lunatic in a language none of us can understand. Except Leila, it seems.
Like an out-of-body experience, I watch as she steps out from behind Ace and goes off on a rant of her own, despite not speaking the same language as their armed assailant. Her mouthing off at him clearly offends the man because, before anyone can react, he reaches out with the butt of his assault rifle and smashes it against the side of her head.
I watch as her legs crumple beneath her, and she collapses to the floor, hitting her head on the corner of the table Ace has his equipment set up on. She hits the ground hard and just lies there, unmoving. Fuck, from where I’m standing, I can’t even see if she’s breathing.
With that, I’m done waiting. I reassess our options and start handing out silent orders. I see Ace’s eyes track to the door, and I move into view while the gunman’s back is to the door. I signal him our plan. He taps the side of his nose, and I slip away from the door once more. Staying calm is difficult, so I avoid looking at Leila.
At my command, Ace creates a distraction by falling to the floor, pretending to attempt to wake Leila. Using the cover of his hunched over body, he pulls his knife free of its scabbard. Invisible as his nickname, Phantom slips into the room and finds shelter behind an armchair. He aims his weapon at the man screaming at Ace. I can only assume the gunman’s telling Ace to get off the floor.
In a rush of movement, Ace comes to his feet, swinging his knife arm in a tight arc. From my position in the hallway, I can hear the impact as the blade makes contact. The gunman grunts, clutches at his stomach, and staggers back a couple steps. Phantom still has his gun aimed at the man, but it seems my man Ace got the job done.
Slowly, the man sinks to a knee, seeming to struggle for breath. He braces a hand on the floor though it doesn’t prevent him from toppling over sideways. A feeble attempt to lift his rifle to bear on Ace results in a grunt of pain, his arm falling back to the floor as if it were too heavy to lift any longer.
The man’s breathing becomes more labored, and I signal for the men to follow me into the room. Kicking the assault rifle way from the dying man, I kneel beside him to search his pockets for identification or anything else he might be carrying on him. “Ace, how’s Leila doing? She …?” My voice cracks, and I can’t finish the question.
“All good, Merlin. Pulse is strong, breathing regular. Seems she’s just knocked out cold.”
I nod but continue my search. My heart kicks into overdrive, and an icy sweat breaks out on my brow when I feel the edge of a vest above the spot where it seems Ace got him.
Peeling the bulky jacket the man is wearing, my own breathing about stalls when I see the crude bomb strapped to the man’s chest. I offer up a quick prayer that the knife missed the explosives.
I swallow hard, clear my throat, and speak softly, but clearly. “Clear the room and move to a safe distance. Make sure Leila’s well protected.”
All movement in the room ceases.
“What you got there, Chief?” Blade asks quietly.
“Our friend here seems to be all strapped up and ready to party. I’m trying to see how to disconnect the fireworks.”
“Well, shit,” Cougar pipes up. “Ain’t that a stinker. Shoulda known it wouldn’t be that easy.”
Ace fashions a brace to support Leila’s neck before easing her gently into his arms. One by one, my men vacate the room. After a couple minutes, Blade notifies me they’re clear, and I gingerly roll the now-dead hijacker onto his stomach to minimize the blast on the off chance that the bomb blows. I haven’t found a detonator on him, so I can only assume it’s connected to a remote.
I ease back onto my feet and run for the rendezvous point, praying my luck will hold and no one gets a twitchy finger anytime soon.
Chapter 8
Leila
Pain unlike any I’ve ever felt pounds in my head. My eyes feel like they’re being jabbed with red-hot pokers. Even my teeth ache in solidarity. My mouth is dry as a desert, and nausea roils in my belly.
I can’t remember ever being this miserable.
Why can’t I open my eyes? They’re so damn heavy. And what the hell is that godawful smell? Antiseptic? With what feels like superhuman effort, I finally manage to pry my lids apart. The brightness of the room has a fresh wave of excruciating pain hammering me.
I’m going to be sick, and all I can do is just lie there. Calling out for help, I pray it won’t be long in coming.
“Ms. Asherton?” I hear a soft voice call my name.
“Yeah?”
