The Alpha Bodyguards Books #4-6

Chapter Twenty-Five

T alon turned off the county road and floored it down a dirt lane in the middle of nowhere. Cutting the headlights, he glanced in the rearview mirror. “Okay, darlin’, listen up. I’m gonna pull in front of the house and you’re gonna jump out. Head straight down the hallway on the left, past the kitchen. The second bedroom on the right, go to the closet and open it. On the back wall, about chest high, is a handle—”

“Wait.” I glanced behind us in a panic. The van was barely fifty yards back. “You’re not coming with me?”

“Darlin’,” he stated with total authority, “we’re out of time. Ten seconds I’m gonna be on the house, and you’re gonna be jumpin’ out. I’m gonna have a mess of pissed-off, armed gangbangers on me, and you’re gonna be in the panic room while I do my thing. You get me?”

Oh God, oh God, oh God . “Talon….” I couldn’t do this.

“Back bedroom, closet, chest-high handle. Pull it open, get the fuck inside and lock the door after you. You don’t open that door for anyone ’cept me or Playboy, you hear me?” He slowed the Challenger.

I started to hyperventilate.

His hand gripped my chin, and he barked words at me. “You hear me?”

“Ba-back bedroom,” I stuttered.

Floodlights outside a ranch home a few dozen yards ahead of us cast his face in shadows as he clipped out a nod. “Closet, handle, panic room, lock the door. You got it?” Holding the steering wheel in one hand, he dropped my chin and reached behind our seats. Hefting a giant automatic-looking rifle, he flipped it one-handed and laid it across his lap, his hand already on the trigger.

My eyes bugging out, my heart faltering, I nodded.

“Tell me,” he demanded, yanking the steering wheel and sliding the car into a half spin.

I grabbed for the oh Jesus handle as my ass slid across the seat. “Back bedroom, closet, handle, lock myself in,” I rattled off as the Challenger jerked to a stop inches from the front steps to the house.

Talon reached across me and threw my door open. “Go, go, go!”

I jumped out.

But my foot caught.

I lurched forward, my hands hit the steps, and one foot twisted under me as the other caught on the low doorframe of the Challenger.

A half cry, half grunt squeaked out as pain shot up my wrists. Panicked, I glanced over my shoulder.

Talon was already out of the car, aiming his rifle as the van pulled up. “ Run ,” he yelled at me.

I jerked my leg out of the Challenger as the first shots rang out in the cicada-laced night air. Splitting the evening’s silence, an explosion of gunfire rained out of Talon’s rifle, plucking in to the van.

A split second later, bullets were whipping past me, plinking off the house’s siding.

On all fours, I scrambled up the steps and shoved the front door open with all my strength.

My heart in my throat, my stomach outside on the ground, I fell into the house.

It was dark.

Pitch dark.

“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” I cried, fumbling to slam the door shut behind me. But as I shoved it, three bullets hit the solid wood and I jerked back, leaving it partially open.

Hallway.

Hallway, hallway, hallway.

Oh my God, where was the hallway ?

The house darker than hell, I glanced around in a complete panic-fueled terror as gunshots rained down outside like the second coming.

A clock on the oven glowed and my brain scrambled.

Past the kitchen?

Around the kitchen?

Opposite the kitchen?

Oh my fucking God, which way was I supposed to go?

The front door was kicked open.

I ran.

Blind, I ran like I’ve never run before…

For five whole erratic heartbeats and not enough strides.

My shoulder was grabbed a split second before an arm flew around my neck.

“Got you, bitch,” a deep voice growled.

My feet left the ground.

I screamed.

And screamed and screamed and screamed.

But nothing came out past the arm crushing my windpipe.