Page 13 of All Twisted Up
“This thing just got a whole lot more complicated,” I said. We both knew if there really were innocents in that apartment, protecting them and each other at the same time, was going to get tricky. He acknowledged me with a nod…a second before everything turned to shit.
“Aquarius!” someone yelled in the com—the fucking DEA screaming that they were breaching. I barely had time to realize that Turley had just jumped the gun, ordering his men to take the door…without giving us the heads up as planned. We’d just lost the necessary five seconds to rappel down to the tenth floor.
“Twizz! Milky! Go! Go! Go!” Candy ordered.
We were over the side a split second later. There was an almighty explosion and the window to Gomez’ apartment shattered. Large walls of lethal shards were sent crashing to the pavement ten floors below and I hoped to God, Marshall was okay. Bullets were flying everywhere, the machine-gun fire was deafening, and my adrenaline was pumping as we dropped into the room.
The second we hit the floor, I realized the fucking DEA was firing at everyone in the room and they were all shooting back. Before we had a chance to duck, Mickey was struck with a bullet, center mass. He was thrown back against me, and for a terrifying moment we teetered…both of us nearly falling backward into space ten floors up.
“Mickey!” I screamed, taking us both down, me on top of him, unclipping our harnesses the second we hit the floor so we wouldn’t be yanked back out. Wind rushed into the room behind us as our ropes fell away. He gasped and I rolled off him, frantically running my hands over his chest. The bullet had been stopped by his body armor and vest, but his mouth was silently opening and closing as he tried to speak. The wind had beenknocked out of him but he gave me an affirmative blink, letting me know he was okay.
Silently thanking God that he was alive, I dragged both of us behind a massive leather couch, toppling a console table which had been positioned behind it to further insulate my buddy from stray bullets while he recovered. Over the cacophony of noise, I heard a scream from nearby.
I took a chance and poked my head up over our barricade for only a split second and my blood ran cold. Huddled flat on the floor were the two young men who didn’t at all fit in with the other thugs who were shooting back at the DEA Tac Team. Judging by the way they were clinging to each other like little limpets, I knew they were the innocent bystanders we’d seen down on the street. Though what they were doing in this den of snakes, I couldn’t comprehend.
When one of them looked over at me with frantic, wild eyes, I gestured at him, hoping he’d do as I indicated and keep his head down and make himself small. He pulled his friend up and half crawled, half dragged him until he was close enough for me to grab onto his collar and drag them the rest of the way. He tried to get free of my hold, so I wrapped him up tight in my arms, pulling his lither body close. He stopped struggling immediately.
“Stay down!” I yelled over the sheer level of noise, bullets striking bodies, furniture, and for that matter, every fucking thing in the room, including the walls where innocent families beyond had just been awakened from their slumber. I cursed Carson Turley and his decision not to allow us to evacuate civilians as I turned to Mickey who was sitting up. I checked him, his breathing was steady, and I immediately reported in.
“We have the two civilians, Captain! Milky took a hit to the vest but he’s okay.”
“Hold position, Twizz!” Candy’s steady, calm voice was comforting.
“Roger.” I loosened my grip on the boy, only then spotting the weapon he was holding. I reached for it, growling as I disarmed him. “What the fuck are you doing?” I barked at him.
He paled, letting go of the miniature pocketknife. It had a pearl handle and a two-and-a-half-inch blade.
“Planning on doing some whittling?” I closed it with a snap and shoved it inside my vest. I was actually more impressed than angry with the guy for thinking the tiny thing could have caused any decent amount of damage to the gang bangers…anything bigger than a scratch anyway.
“Give that back! My grandfather gave it to me!” he shouted over the noise.
If it wasn’t so ridiculous, I would have laughed. A bullet whizzed over him, and I instantly pushed his head back down. “Stay down!” I glanced over at Mickey who nodded back to me when I yelled, “You okay?”
“Yes,” he gasped. “Just—” He waved at his chest. “Couldn’t breathe for a sec.”
“Clear!” Someone shouted in the coms.
I tuned back in to the noise in the room, realizing the shooting had stopped.
“Clear!”
“Gomez?” Turley’s voice came loud and clear.
“Not here, sir!” one of the DEA guys shouted just as another one came around the side of the couch pointing his gun inches from my face. I instinctively threw my body across the smaller civilian, glaring at the asshole.
“FBI!” Mickey screamed. “Get that fucking weapon out of my buddy’s face!”
The guy smirked at me from behind goggles, and in my opinion, took way too long to swing the rifle away from us. “Who are they?” he asked, pointing the gun in their direction.
“Civilians,” I said, standing to my full height of six feet as I reached out and grabbed the barrel of his gun, lowering it to the floor so he wouldn’t accidently shoot them. “And if you point that at him again, I’ll shoot you myself!” I looked down at the kid with the knife and held out my hand. “Come on. You’re safe now.”
He grabbed it as I hauled him to his feet. “Thanks,” he muttered, helping his friend stand up.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Define okay,” the kid shot back.
Smart ass. I grinned, impressed, then glanced over at his friend. “You?”
