“Yeah. Yeah. That’s what scares me. I’ll handle cleanup this time. The next one is on you.”
I threw my arm out, once again shaking his hand. This time, he pulled me into a hug, clapping my back.
“Don’t let her get away, bubba,” he recommended. “She’s the one.”
“How do you know?” I tugged on the strap, slinging the rifle behind my back. I had to admit I preferred using a handgun. It felt much more personal.
He pulled away, pointing at me. “By the look in your eyes. You’re in love.” He laughed as he backed away until three of his heavily armed soldiers raced toward us.
“Fuck. Game on.”
“Go. Now!”
“You know I don’t take orders,”
I’d be goddamned if it wasn’t as if another point needed to be made. The roar of engines was from vehicles driving at a high rate of speed.
“Shit,” Carlos hissed. “Guns for hire. They’re bad news.”
“Where are the fucking police?” Alessandro snapped as we raced toward the speeding vehicles.
“Your friend doesn’t know Cuba,” Carlos yelled in return. “Bought and paid for by the highest bidder.”
I’d been in gunfights in my life during a time when my grief had fueled me to the point I’d felt invincible. I hadn’t cared if I’d lived or died.
Now that wasn’t the case. Maybe Carlos was right.
Yet there was no other choice but to take on the fight. The next few moments were harried, gunfire coming from all directions.
Carlos’ men were well trained, their manpower a godsend. Bodies were strewn across the tarmac. We were gaining traction. Taking a deep breath, I turned in a circle, firing off a single shot. Then out of the corner of my eye I noticed one of the bastards had broken free, using the melee to head toward the plane.
The two soldiers who’d walked with Fallon had been called to action when the attack had broken out.
Only ten feet away from the ladder, I sprinted toward him, lunging forward and through the air. I hit him with full force, both of us tumbling to the concrete. Even hitting his head didn’t stop him. He attempted to butt me with his weapon, but I was too quick for him, delivering two brutal punches into his face.
The fucker was strong, able to turn me over, so he had control. When he did, the Beretta flew from my hand, spinning until it was just out of reach. Oh, hell, no. I refused to allow the son of a bitch to have the advantage. When he tried to choke me using his rifle, I stretched my arm, struggling to reach my weapon while I snapped the other hand around the cold metal,using all my strength to try to keep him from crushing my windpipe.
We both groaned from exertion. The look in his eyes was feral. He likely had no clue who I was. It was all about the thrill of the kill.
I’d had enough. The engines on the plane were fired up and ready to go. Suddenly, Cuba seemed oppressive.
“Aaahhhh…” I gritted out, stretching. Still stretching. The moment I wrapped my fingers around my weapon, I didn’t hesitate.
I barely had time to close my eyes before I pulled the trigger, the shot at close range.
Fuck.
Now I’d need a goddamn shower. Shoving him off, I scrambled to my feet as I heard footsteps.
“Go. Go. Go!” Alessandro directed.
This time, I didn’t argue, but before I climbed onto the plane, I rubbed my face with my arm and searched the area looking for Carlos.
Found him.
Or maybe he found me.
After issuing a salute, which he’d done several times since the start of our friendship, he headed toward the airport.