Page 76 of Diesel
I take the opposite hallway to Riot. I don’t trust him to have my back, or to stand at it. The house is a maze of rooms and twisting corridors that puts me on edge. I listen as I move, every step feeling like a gamble.
The dust is thick on the sills and skirting boards, and there’s a musty smell that clings to the back of my throat. Mildew. Damp. Rot in the walls.
I freeze when the floorboards creak under my boots.
Shit.
I pause and listen.
Nothing moves. All I can hear is the voices I left in that room with the dead.
I breathe and keep going.
As I round the corner, I end up staring down the barrel of a gun. Again.
Riot.
I don’t move. He doesn’t either. There’s an intake of breath around us, like the house itself is screaming.
Is he going to finish what he started back at the safehouse?
I’m not sure my heart is even beating. “If you’re gonna shoot me,” I murmur, ignoring the sweat crawling down my nape, “then do it. Otherwise, get that fucking gun out of my face.”
He huffs like I’ve fucking offended him and then lowers his weapon. I don’t release the breath caught in my chest until he steps away.
“House is empty,” he mutters, frustrated. He’s not the only one. “And I wasn’t gonna shoot you.”
I don’t answer. I don’t believe him.
I track him as he walks to the window, his shoulders coiled tight like a knot. He leans his hands on the sill, peering out over the fields. “He’s like a fucking cockroach.”
A glint of something in the trees past the fence line.
I move before my brain understands what I’m seeing. “Down!”
I slam into him, and we hit the floor hard enough to knock the breath out of me.
The window shatters, gunfire exploding from outside. Riot growls a curse, curling into himself as shards of glass rain down on us. I cover my head, bullets thudding into the wall behind us. Meant for us.
We’re pinned down.
Trapped.
Under attack.
And fucked.
Return fire sounds from inside the house. Orders are screamed, but all I focus on is Riot.
He’s staring at me, like he can’t believe I just tackled him. “You saved my life.”
“Yeah, don’t get used to it.”
Another volley of bullets slam into the wall behind us. My gun finds its way into my hands. Riot’s already loading and the mad bastard is grinning like a lunatic. “Let’s cause a riot.”
I grunt. “Don’t say that again.”
He fires a volley of bullets through the broken window, ducking back down fast before they return fire.
