Page 56 of Girl Lost
He grappled with the linebacker, managing to lock him into a sleeper hold. His arm trembled, muscles screaming, but he held on. The guy was solid, all muscle and training. He squeezed tighter, praying the man would go down fast.
A hand clawed at his waist. Hitch reaching for Corbin’s sidearm.
He swatted frantically with his free hand, trying to maintain the chokehold on the linebacker. It was like fighting an octopus—hands everywhere, grasping, pulling. Salty sweat stung his eyes. Breaths came in ragged gasps.
Metal scraped against leather. His gun.
His heart hammered as he felt the weapon pulled free.
Time slowed. Seconds stretched. Training took over. He wrenched his body, using the linebacker in the sleeper hold as a human shield. Hitch pointed Corbin’s own weapon at them, hesitating as his partner struggled in Corbin’s grip.
A gunshot erupted, a thunderous blast that seemed to rip the night apart. Corbin felt the shock wave ripple through his body, leaving his ears ringing and his eyes watering. The linebacker in his arms jerked and went limp, suddenly dead weight. The coppery scent of blood filled the air, mixing with the lingering smell of gunpowder.
No time to process. No time to think about the life that had just ended, however justified. Survival. He swept Hitch’s legs with every ounce of strength he had left.
Hitch toppled backward. Surprise flashed in the eyes visible behind the balaclava. Corbin’s gun discharged twice more and clattered to the asphalt as the attacker fell. Bullets whizzed, pinging off a nearby car. Sparks flew as metal met metal.
Hitch was on the ground, scrambling for the gun.
Corbin beat him to it and shifted the textured grip into his palm. He aimed at Hitch on his back. “Don’t move!”
Hitch’s hands went up about shoulder height. He grinned, a flash of white teeth visible through the mouth hole in his mask. “You gonna shoot me, Officer?”
Corbin’s finger hovered over the trigger. Could he do it? Take a life? What choice did he have? The man was armed, dangerous. But ... was it the same man who’d taken Stryker?
He couldn’t kill him. Not until he had answers. “You’re under arrest.”
He risked a glance at Luna, heart in his throat. His blood turned to ice to see Number Three searching her prone form for a weapon. Number Three rolled Luna onto her back.
Big mistake.
Her legs coiled, then snapped out with devastating force. Both boots caught the man square in the jaw. The crack of impact echoed across the parking lot. Number Three’s head snapped back, eyes rolling up in his skull. He crumpled into a heap like a marionette with cut strings. She’d hit the sweet spot and knocked him clean out.
That was his partner. Tough as nails, even when down.
“Corbin! Watch out!”
He started to turn, but Hitch was already moving. A roll. Swift and smooth. Hitch came up on one knee and jammed his palm upward into Corbin’s gun hand.
He dodged just before his own weapon struck him in the face.
Fire bloomed along his side. Corbin hissed, stumbling back. Warm blood seeped through his shirt, sticky against his skin. That’s when he noticed the knife.
Already Hitch had his arm back, readying to drive the blade a second time. Corbin dodged.
Hitch came at him again, lunging, but Corbin was ready for it. He shifted his weight, pivoting to the side, and slammed hisforearm into Hitch’s wrist, deflecting the blade. The knife scraped against his jeans, tearing fabric but not flesh.
Corbin’s free hand shot out, fist connecting with Hitch’s nose. A satisfying crunch. Blood spurted, splattering against Corbin’s shirt. The man flew at Corbin, knocking him back. The ground rushed up to meet him. Pain shot through his shoulder as he hit the asphalt.
Hitch was on him in an instant. Fists flying in a rage-fueled battering. The Glock flew from his grip and landed steps away, just out of reach. They grappled on the hot asphalt. Arms locked. Teeth bared. Hitch’s shattered nose was inches above Corbin’s, dripping blood.
From the corner of his eye, Corbin sensed movement. A blur of black coming at him.
Luna. She’d somehow gotten to her feet and was moving toward them, silent and swift.
Hitch turned, but Luna’s leg was already in motion. Her boot smashed into his ribs. A guttural noise exploded from the man, and he fell sideways.
One fluid motion. Legs pistoning. Core engaged. Corbin pushed off the ground, using his momentum to power himself upright. The cut on his side burned, but he could still move. Could still get them out of this. He reached down and picked up his gun. It clicked into its holster.
