The Alpha Bodyguards Books #4-6

Chapter Twenty-Seven

T he stench of acrid, panic-laced sweat filled my nostrils.

“Shut the fuck up, bitch.” Choking me with his arm around my throat, he jammed his gun into my ribs. “Shut the fuck up right now, or I’ll pump you full of holes and make you shut the fuck up.”

“Try it and you’re dead,” Sawyer’s lethally calm voice penetrated the darkened house.

A sob stuck in my throat.

My captor jerked us back a foot. “Who the fuck is that?”

A cacophony of gunfire erupted from out front, splitting the artificial silence of fear a split second before someone outside yelled, “ Ambush! ”

Fight-or-flight instinct kicked in, and I tried to drop to the ground.

The captor’s arm around my neck tightened to suffocating strength as my knees hit the ground.

“What the fuck, bitch?” He yanked me back up.

“ Marek ,” Sawyer snapped. “In position?”

“Copy,” a deep voice sounded from behind us.

The captor jerked us away from the last voice as the front door was kicked shut and the room exploded with light.

Blinking away the brightness and tears, my eyes focused, and when they did, my heart jammed itself into my throat.

Sawyer.

Oh my God, Sawyer .

His rifle aimed, his feet apart, his eyes were glued just over my shoulder on the man holding me in a headlock.

He tipped his chin at me but spoke to my captor. “Let her go or you die.”

“You shoot me, either of you shoot me, she dies,” my captor spit, grinding his gun into my ribs.

I started to shake.

Gunshots rained down outside, plinking against the house.

Every second of the last time I had a gun pulled on me came back, and I couldn’t breathe.

“All of you are dead,” my captor spewed. “You hear me? Dead .”

Sawyer didn’t respond. His aim moved from my captor’s shoulder to his head.

I couldn’t breathe .

“Not in the house,” the deep voice behind me warned Sawyer. “Outside.”

My knees started to shake.

“Yeah,” my captor taunted. “Let’s take this outside. See how you pendejos like that.”

Shouting in Spanish erupted from outside.

Ears ringing. Arms heavy.

My captor forced a laugh. “See? Told you. Muerte, pendejo . Muerte .”

No air, heart pounding, shaking—everything shaking.

Don’t fall.

Don’t fall .

My head swam, and my knees buckled.

“ Fucking bitch! ” He yanked me upright.

The pressure on my neck increased, and my vision tunneled.

“Let go of her neck,” Sawyer growled.

Don’t stumble .

“Outside,” the deep voice snapped.

Staples, staples, staples. Do not stumble. Do not stumble.

“You choke her out, you’re dead ,” Sawyer roared.

Do not stumble.

The pressure on my neck eased a fraction.

“Three o’clock, two paces,” the voice behind me clipped.

Burning, wheezing, one breath, not enough.

Sawyer reached out, slow motion, and opened the front door. He stepped to his right.

Need more air.

“That’s it,” my captor sneered. “Move the fuck outta my way if you want her to live.”

Need more air .

Sawyer took another step to his right. A step away from the front door.

Oh God.

My captor moved.

Dragging me, pressing the gun into my side, he covered half the living room.

Fire, burning, breaths in short spurts. Oh God.

Tears welled.

Oh God .

“ Genevieve ,” Sawyer snapped from somewhere far away. “Eyes on me!”

I couldn’t hear.

I couldn’t breathe.

Gunfire played in my head and outside.

Gunfire everywhere.

Shots, so many shots, the sound of death.

Oh.

My.

God.

We were moving right for the door.

I was dead.

I didn’t have a chance outside.

No chance.

Too many bullets.

No chance .

Muffled, distant terror-driven screaming filled my ears.

Thoughts spun.

Head spun.

Staples don’t matter if you’re dead .

Filthy dirt-sweat taste on my tongue.

Bullets were going to rip through my flesh.

Sawyer was going to die.

Talon was going to die.

The man behind me was going to die.

I was going to die.

“Stop fucking screaming, bitch!” Cold metal pressed into my temple.

Sawyer roared.

“Get him outside,” the other man ordered.

“I’m fucking going and taking her with me!”

I was yanked over the threshold, and my world spun to a stop.

Bodies.

Red, blood, flesh, face-up, facedown, eyes open, eyes closed, dead.

Dead, dead, dead.

One, two… five.

Bodies lying everywhere.

Except for three men standing.

Talon.

André.

Ty.

All pointing guns at us.

The world went dead quiet.

Except for one last word.

“ Motherfucker ,” my captor whispered.

Wind rushed past my face a split second before his head exploded and a blood bath washed over me like hell on earth.

His body dropped, thumping halfway down the steps.

I fell to my knees as a keening filled the night’s silence.