Chapter Ten #2
I felt Calista stiffen, and I knew she wanted to give me shit but settled on lifting her right hand and presenting her middle finger.
Seriously. I liked this chick.
I covered that up with a scowl, jerked my head toward the door, and didn’t bother counting down. Calista didn’t need it. She’d follow me in, and when she did, she’d take care of business.
That was a mistake. I should’ve counted down and reminded myself what I was walking into. Not that a three-second pep talk would’ve done shit to prepare me for the sight before us.
The girl, I mean girl, was fucked up—torn lip, blood smeared from her chin up to her swollen eye. Hair matted with either blood or something else I wasn’t going to allow myself to think about, or my earlier restraint would snap, and I’d burn this motherfucking building to ash.
Kiara gave a squeak of shock when she saw us. I scanned her face, looking for the mole that would positively identify her. The three inches of makeup caked on her face made it difficult, but there under the layers of foundation was the mark.
Calista was already pulling the injured girl to her side by the time I got in front of a trying-to-make-a-run-for-it Kiara.
She opened her mouth to scream, my hand went over her mouth, and I swung her up into my arms. Christ. She weighed nothing. A skinny bag of bones.
“Move.”
But I didn’t need to order Calista to get her ass downstairs. With her arm around the girl, she was dragging her to the door.
Kiara struggled in my arms.
This was the worst part—the struggle. It wouldn’t matter what I said to her, she was too scared to hear, too traumatized to comprehend I was there to save her. That her nightmare was ending, and the struggle to heal was on the horizon.
I let Calista go in front of me, leaving a few steps between us in case Kiara kicked or punched so she wouldn’t hit the other two women.
Calista was almost at the bottom when the girl came out of her stupor and fight-or-flight kicked in. She swung her fist in a wide arc, clocking Calista on the side of the face. Her head barely moved with the impact.
“It’s okay. You’re safe,” Calista cooed.
The girl tried again, but this time Calista had cleared the stairs, caught the girl’s wrist, twisted to face her, dipped, and hefted the girl onto her shoulder in a modified fireman’s hold I was shocked as shit she could maneuver.
The tiny girl didn’t give up and whaled on Calista’s back as she made her way through the derelict store.
“You good?” I called out.
“Sure.”
Her voice sounded tight and determined, not in pain, so I refrained from telling her to put the girl down and contain her until I could pass Kiara off to one of the guys, who were hopefully waiting for us outside the door.
“Almost there, Kiara,” I murmured. “You’re safe now.”
As expected, she didn’t acknowledge me.
My heart rate ticked up when I heard muffled yells and moving on the ground, until I remembered the three assholes we’d zip-tied.
Almost there.
The mangled door came into view. Next I saw Fallon outside the door, standing guard. He didn’t wait for Calista to get to the door; he rushed inside, pulled the girl off Calista, and took off running.
“Go.”
“You first,” Calista returned, catching her breath.
“Go!”
Her head snapped up, she shot me a glare, then took off out the door.
Hot, humid fresh air slapped me in the face. Or at least it was fresher than the stale body-odor stench in the building. I’d take the dirty city air and be happy.
Pete came up beside me at a jog.
“Two blocks north. Al Satwa Road. Want me to take her?”
“I got her.”
I glanced up the block and saw Fallon and Calista. Her much smaller legs trying to keep up, Fallon taking a slower pace than normal so he didn’t lose her.
I wanted her by my side.
“Sorry, Kiara, I’d uncover your mouth, but I can’t have you screaming.”
Pete jumped off the sidewalk to get around a group of tourists staring into a closed shop.
Thankfully, this street was mostly empty, or we’d be fucked.
But what was more fucked was, none of the men looking into the store said a damn thing about me running with a woman in my arms. Didn’t yell for help. Didn’t so much as spare me a glance.
This world was fucked.
Al Satwa Road came into view. Less than fifty meters. A silver minivan came to a screeching stop at the corner right in front of Calista and Fallon.
“Pete—”
“That’s our ride.”
Fallon must’ve relayed the same information. Calista opened the sliding back door and waved Fallon inside. He shook his head and waved for her to enter. Her head turned. With laser precision, our eyes locked.
I wanted to yell and tell her to get her ass in the van but didn’t want unnecessary attention. We were twenty yards away from hijacking two victims and getting them to safety. I’d yell at the stubborn woman later.
Finally, Calista crawled into the van. Fallon followed.
A few seconds later, I did the same, falling into a seat with Kiara now fighting in earnest. Pete slammed the sliding door closed.
As soon as he did, I craned my neck to see Calista in the back seat.
At some point, her shayla had come loose and was hardly covering any blonde.
Whatever I was going to say to her died in my throat when her gaze lifted and tormented blue eyes found mine.
The van shot forward into traffic.
An elbow landed in my solar plexus.
I removed my hand from Kiara’s mouth, and as soon as I did, she screamed—a loud, piercing shriek that could wake the dead.
Fuck. I really hated this part. Hated that it was me who was now causing this woman fear.
“Call her father,” Calista said softly. “His voice will calm her.”
“Pete—”
He didn’t let me finish. “On it.” But before he made the call to Shep to tell him we’d secured Kiara and get her father’s number, he turned and took a picture of the defeated girl on Fallon’s lap.
Kiara was going home to her family.
The other frightened girl needed to go somewhere. Pete would offer to put her on a plane with Kiara, or he’d make other arrangements. But last night was the last time they’d sleep in the putrid room knowing that the next morning, they’d be forced to live a nightmare.