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Dmytro shouted, “Óchi, echo ton chálkino kýlindro!”
“Say it,” Fearghas urged softly.
Ace shouted in stilted Greek, “Óchi, echo ton chálkino kýlindro!”
The enemy moved forward, their weapons drawn, closing in on them.
“Be ready,” Jasmine whispered.
“I’ll take the two on the right,” Dmytro said in English.
“I’ve got the two next to them,” Fearghas claimed.
“I’ll take the two men on the left,” Jasmine said.
Ace shook his head. “For the record, I don’t like the odds. I’ll get the two unclaimed.” He shot a glance at Jasmine in the starlight. “You sure?”
She gave him a tight smile. “They won’t shoot. We just have to be better at hand-to-hand combat. We’re all trained to fight.”
“Did I mention I have a gun?” Dmytro said in a low tone.
“As do I,” Fearghas said, his hands still raised.
Jasmine tensed. “Only use it as a last resort. Once someone starts shooting, it’ll be a free-for-all.”
Jasmine braced for combat.
As the men closed in on them, Jasmine kept her hands in the air.
They stopped short. The guy in charge called out four names and told them to retrieve the bags while the other four men held their weapons trained on Jasmine, Ace, Fearghas and Dmytro.
The four men who moved forward lowered their rifles to reach for the satchels, bags and backpacks.
As soon as they reached for the bags, Jasmine’s team of four sprang into action.
Jasmine grabbed her guy’s rifle and slammed it upward, catching him in the nose. She shoved him backward into the man holding a gun on her.
They fell to the ground in a tangle of arms, legs and weapons.
Ace had one guy twisted in a knot with his arm yanked up his back between his shoulder blades. He was marching him forward into the man holding his rifle aimed at Ace, but now at his comrade. The man Ace had incapacitated yelled at his buddy to help him.
Short of shooting his friend, the guy could do nothing.
Fearghas and Dmytro’s targets were in similar straits. All their focus was on staying alive.
When Jasmine’s conquests struggled to rise to their feet, she planted a foot in the middle of the closest one and shoved hard. Then she kicked their rifles out of their reach.
They were angry, cursing her as they crab-walked backward, away from her, toward the stand of trees and brushes. She just wanted to laugh at their stupidity and ineptness.
Until an arm wrapped around her arms, pinning them to her sides, and something cold and sharp pressed into her neck. A voice said into her ear in Greek, “Scream, and I’ll slice your throat. Your son will never know the love of his mother again.”
She froze. Where were Ace, Fearghas and Dmytro?
“Move. Now,” the voice said. The cool metal of the knife against her throat pressed ominously.
Something warm and wet dripped down her neck onto her chest. “I’m moving,” she said, walking into the shadows made by trees and brush that the two men she’d schooled had just disappeared into.
They were waiting there, wicked knives drawn and ready to slice into her sides. They marched through the hotel gardens, through a gate marked in Greek, authorized personnel only and across a paved reception ramp, where deliveries were received by the hotel staff. An SUV stood in the middle of the pavement.
