Page 43 of Not This Time

She danced out of his reach as he tried to swipe at her.

Rachel could feel the sweat beading on her sun-kissed skin, but she refused to relent, knowing that her endurance would be the key to overpowering her larger opponent.

With a swift motion, she lunged forward a second time, after he'd hesitated, thinking she was backing off. The surprise caught him off guard, and she twisted the guard's arm, forcing him to release his grip on his gun. In one fluid movement, she snatched the weapon from his grasp, leaving him momentarily defenseless.

Her jet-black hair, adorned with traditional beads, whipped around her face as she continued the engagement. There was no time for dialogue, no opportunity for negotiation.

The guard's eyes widened, staring at his own gun which now pointed at him.

A brief lull in the combat. Both of them going still, quiet.

He gaped at her, opening and closing his mouth and letting out a weak moan.

"I... Hey..."

"Down, on the ground!" she snapped.

His eyes flicked to her, then past her towards the file cabinet she'd been rummaging through.

He stared at her, but then gave a curt shake of his head.

"Can't," he whispered.

She frowned.

"Can't let you."

"I'm armed," she snapped. "Get on the ground,now!"

But something like genuine fear appeared in his eyes. Not fear directed at her, nor at the gun in her hand. It was almost as if she wasn't there, as if he were staring straightthroughher.

He swallowed, giving a faint shake of his head. "You don't understand," he whispered. "He'll cut me to ribbons."

"He? He who? Your boss? What's his name?"

But the guard let out a leaking sound, the hiss of air creeping through pursed lips. He looked downright terrified. The fear of death wasn't in his gaze. Rather, his terror was distracted by whatever phantom image he conjured in his mind. His boss... What sort of man elicited this type of terror?

But Rachel was still determined to find Candace's file. To figure outwhowas dumping bodies on the Clark's land.

The man still hadn't dropped, and he was shaking his head now, looking as if he were trying to gear himself up to action once more.

"Down!" she snapped.

But before she could say anything else, Rachel caught a faint sound echoing down the hallway outside the file room – the unmistakable thud of heavy boots against the floor. Her senses heightened, she realized that more guards were fast approaching, no doubt drawn by the commotion within. There was no time to waste.

With renewed urgency, she darted forward. He'd been expecting a gunshot, but instead, she delivered a powerful swipe to the guard's jaw with the butt of his own gun, causing him to reel backward in pain. As he stumbled, she spun around and lashed out with a roundhouse kick, her leather boot connecting with the side of his head. The force of the blow sent him sprawling onto the floor, unconscious.

Rachel's heart raced in her chest as she scanned the room, assessing the situation and formulating a plan. She knew that facing additional guards would be risky, but there were no windows, no additional egress points.

So she crouched behind the filing cabinet, buying herself seconds.

No sooner had the first guard let out a moaning gasp from the floor than two reinforcements burst through the doorway, their eyes scanning the room for signs of the intruder.

"Hey, Mattie, what happened? Shit--he's unconscious."

The other guard said something, but it was muffled, and she couldn't see them from where she crouched alongside the cold, metal filing cabinet.

As the guards approached, Rachel's breaths came in measured, silent gasps, her mind racing to calculate her next move. She could feel her nerves humming with energy.

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