18. Chapter 18
Chapter eighteen
Pony
“Does anyone have eyes on Remi?” I holler across the fray.
“She’s trapped in the vehicle,” Doc calls back from behind the pickup truck he’s using for cover.
Fuck.
“Keep her from getting hit. We gotta win this firefight before we can get to her,” Warlock shouts from his position behind another vehicle.
I’m desperate to help her, but it’s impossible while we’re being shot at from three directions.
We won’t leave her behind, but she doesn’t know that.
She must be so afraid, and I feel like shit because there’s nothing I can do to reassure her.
After everything she’s been through, this is the last thing she needs.
And hanging upside down sure as hell isn’t doing her injuries any good.
“You okay, Remi?!” I yell over the gunfire.
“I’m good, thanks for asking. Just hanging out enjoying the view,” she calls back.
I can hear her fear, but she’s valiantly holding it together. I can’t help my chuckle. “That’s my girl.”
Ricochet’s bellow of pain breaks through the gunfire. “Fuck! Goddammit!”
“What happened?” Hawk snaps without interrupting his assault on the enemy.
“I tore my leg open on a jagged piece of metal. Fuck!”
I wince in sympathy, hoping it’s only a minor cut. With Remi trapped in the van and Ricochet injured, we need to end this…now.
“Give us the woman and we let you go,” someone with a thick Spanish accent hollers.
All of us, including Ricochet, continue returning fire, but Warlock, who’s on my left using a parked sedan for cover, and I shout back at the same time:
“Not happening!”
“Over my dead fucking body.”
As if we’d ever let them take her from us.
To drive home our point, we unleash a barrage of gunfire on the bastards intent on recapturing Remi.
“Frag out!” Hawk calls, hurling the grenade across the street. We all duck from the resulting explosion.
“Bad guy!” Remi’s panicked shout cuts through the chaos. “Bad guy out the windshield! Very bad guy! Really fucking bad guy!”
Hearing her terror and the way she’s screaming, I get the awful feeling this is one of the men who tortured her.
I shift, scanning to locate the source of her fear. “Shooter at three o’clock!”
“Ho-ly shit, look at the size of that motherfucker,” Nitro exclaims when he spots him.
A giant madman is marching down the middle of the street, firing an automatic rifle as he comes straight toward us.
Nitro and I swing our weapons his way, unleashing round after round. I watch with a sense of satisfaction as that big, sadistic asshole jerks and flails from the force of being hit. Still, it takes a hail of bullets to drop the bastard. I don’t feel a shred of regret for that.
“Good lookin’ out, Remi,” I holler once the man is lying dead in the street.
Eventually, the gunfire starts to slow, then dies out. The area is littered with bodies, and it almost seems too quiet. As usual after a gunfight, my ears are ringing.
I glance around. Doc has moved Ricochet and is working on his leg while Warlock, Nitro, and Hawk stay alert, sweeping the area for any new danger.
“No time to waste, Doc,” Warlock barks in a clipped tone, his head on a swivel, searching for any new threats. “We’re exposed. We need to move.”
I drop to my knees and peer at Remington through the shattered window.
“Tough day at the office, huh?” she says.
Her comment surprises me, and I bark out a laugh, shaking my head. The way a person acts in a crisis says a lot about who they are, and this woman has a spine of steel.
“Never out of the fight. You’re strong as fuck, Remi,” I tell her in admiration, pulling my knife and wiggling my upper body through the window of the wrecked van.
“When I cut this seatbelt, you’re going to drop. Try to protect your left side.”
She nods. “Okay.”
“On three. You ready?”
I can see she’s not, but she still answers, “More than.”
“One. Two.”
She locks her elbow. I brace my left hand against her hip as best I can, then slice through the seat belt and cut her free. But my support and her single arm aren’t enough to keep her from collapsing onto the roof with a thud.
She shrieks in pain when her full weight hits the roof. I know the fall didn’t do her arm or other injuries any favors.
“I’m so sorry. You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m alright.” She’s panting and her voice is shaky.
Between her using her feet as leverage and me carefully pulling her, I get her out through the passenger window. With my help, she makes it to her feet. She sways. Her blood is struggling to recirculate from her head back to the rest of her body after hanging upside down so long.
“Whoa. Easy, Remi.” I step close and grasp her by the hips to steady her, then help her sit down with her back against the destroyed van.
Ricochet’s on the ground beside her, Doc’s quick hands working to put a field bandage on his bloody leg.
Ricochet turns his head and looks at her.
“Are you okay?” she asks him.
Before he can answer, I cup her face until her eyes meet mine. “Are you okay?”
She nods.
“Remi, tell me the truth.”
She doesn’t hesitate. “My arm hurts. I have a headache from being beaten, upside down, the crash, or all three. I’m scared shitless, and my heart’s beating a thousand miles a minute.
I’ve got nerve-induced nausea and might throw up.
And it’s possible my sanity is teetering.
The good news is I’m alive.” She gives me a small, unconvincing smile. “I’ll be okay. Promise.”
This woman. Trying so hard to project bravery in the face of her fear, never whining or complaining. Despite everything she’s been through, she’s still strong and resilient. I’m damn proud of her.