Chapter 36

Lisa

Pain. Darkness.

For a second, I'm back in that windowless room, with Majid's knife slicing through my face. My stomach heaves, vomit rising in my throat. Then my mind clears, and I become cognizant of a dull ringing in my ears.

That didn't happen in Tajikistan.

I didn't feel this hot there, either.

Too hot. So hot I'm burning.

Fuck! A spurt of adrenaline chases away all traces of mental fog. Moving with lightning speed, I roll several times, putting out the flames eating at my vest. Nausea grips at my insides, my head throbbing with agony, but when I stop, the fire is gone.

Panting furiously, I lie still and try to regain my senses. What the fuck just happened?

The ringing in my head eases slightly, and I pry open my eyelids to see burning pieces of rubble all around me.

An explosion. It must've been an explosion.

As soon as the realization comes to me, I hear it.

A burst of gunfire, followed by answering shots.

My heart stops beating. Jennie!

The jolt of panic is so intense, it supersedes everything. No longer cognizant of pain, I surge to my feet, stumbling as my knees buckle for a second before stiffening to support my weight.

Whipping my head from side to side, I look for the source of gunshots, and then I see it.

A small figure darting behind a large plane after letting loose another volley of shots. Behind her is a group of four armed men, all dressed in SWAT gear.

In a split second, I take in the rest of the scene. The hangar wall near the limo is gone, blown into pieces, and through the opening, I see the police chopper sitting on the grass, its blades now still and silent.

My men in that last SUV must've lost the fight, leaving us exposed to Sullivan's remaining forces.

Before that thought is fully formed in my mind, I'm already on the move. The limo is burning next to me, but the fire is in the front, not the back, so I still have a few seconds. Leaping toward the car, I wrench open one of the doors and climb inside. The weapons are still in the stash, so I grab two machine guns and jump out, knowing the car could blow up at any moment. As I do so, I notice Bambam struggling to get to his feet a dozen yards away. He's alive; I register that with a distant sense of relief.

I don't have time to dwell on it more. A hundred yards away, Jennie is weaving around the planes, exchanging shots with her pursuers. My tiny pet against four armed men—the thought fills me with sickening terror and rage.

Gripping both weapons, one in each hand, I begin running. The second I have a clear line of sight at Sullivan's men, I open fire.

Rat-tat-tat! One man's head explodes. Rat-tat-tat! Another man goes down.

Realizing what's happening, the two surviving men turn around and begin firing at me. Ignoring the bullets whizzing around me, I continue running and shooting, doing my best to zig-zag around the planes. Even with the vest protecting my chest, I'm far from immune to gunfire.

Rat-tat-tat! Something slices across my left shoulder, leaving a burning trail in its wake. Cursing, I grip the guns tighter and return fire, causing one of the men to jump behind a small service truck. The second one continues shooting at me, and as I run, I see Jennie step out from behind one of the planes and take aim, her eyes dark and enormous in her pale face.

Pop! The shooter's head explodes with a bang. Her bullet hit its target. Twisting, she turns and fires at the one hiding behind the truck.

Using the distraction she's providing, I change my course, snaking around the truck where the remaining man is taking shelter. As I come up behind him, I see him aiming at Jennie—and with a bellow of rage, I squeeze the trigger, peppering him with bullets.

He slides down the side of the truck, a bloody mass of lifeless meat.

There are no more shots, the resulting silence almost startling.

Panting, I lower my guns and step out from behind the truck.