Bullets hit the tailgate, cracking the rear windshield as Jericho climbed in. Cannon stomped on the gas, jerking them all back in the seat—peeling away amidst a billow of smoke. Ice’s truck fishtailed onto the road behind them, followed by Bridgette’s Jeep, both blocking any resistance from the rear.
They traveled for over a minute, constantly scanning the streets, but there was only the rain against the windshield. The slap of the wipers.
Colt relaxed a bit, closing his eyes for a moment as he tried to regulate his breathing. Heavy pants filled the cab, his pulse still pounding through his head. He took a few deeper breaths then glanced at Ellis, cursing at the pale cast to her skin. The obvious pain creasing her eyes and mouth. “You okay? You hurt?”
“Think I might puke. Damn, you run fast.” She grabbed her stomach but held it together. “Everything hurts, but…I’ll live.”
He nodded, did a quick sweep only to snap his head back. His breath stalled in his chest, an icy chill crawling across his skin. Blood. Lots of it. On the hoodie he’d given her. Her pants. He forced himself to swallow, to choke it down.
“Damn it, Ellis. I thought you said you were okay?” How the hell had she gotten hit? He should have given her his vest. Blocked whatever shot had clipped her. Or had she reopened her wound? Was bleeding out, again? No, it was the wrong side…
“I am?—”
“You’re bleeding.”
She frowned, looked down. Paled. “Oh my god. Six.”
Colt inhaled—focused on Six. He was whiter than Ellis, blood soaking his shirt up by his collar—dripping down his arm and off his fingers. Leaking out beneath the bottom of his vest. Bullet must have just missed the armor—caught him high in the shoulder.
“Shit. Cannon. Pull over, now. Six is hit.”
“Belay that.” Six shook his head. “We’ll stop when we’re safe. I’ve got pressure on it.”
“Well, it’s not doing a damn thing, is it, because, you’re bleeding out.”
“Don’t be a drama queen. I’m…” He grunted, voice trailing off.
But Colt was already stripping down. Vest, sweater, tee. Balling up the shirt as Ellis leaned forward—switched places. Colt helped Six out of his vest then pressed the wad hard against the other man’s shoulder, cursing when Six’s eyes rolled back.
“Damn it, Cannon, he needs Ice. Now.”
Cannon looked at Colt in the rearview, his gaze darting to Six. “Working on it.”
Jericho was on the phone, talking quietly. She pulled it away from her ear, met Colt’s gaze. “Ice says there’s a mobile clinic nearby. Only a few minutes. A buddy of his runs it—Dr. Coen Brady. Apparently, the guy just rolled into town. Was Special Forces for twenty years. Top notch. Brady’s expecting us. Ice said he’ll stay with Six while we continue to the safehouse. Meet up with us after.”
“Screw that. We don’t leave people behind. What if those assholes want a round two?”
Cannon huffed. “None of us like it, but they’re not after Six. Or Ice. They want Ellis. Our tail’s been clear for five minutes, now. And that whole area is bound to be swarming with cops. Feds. They won’t risk another attempt with all the heat. I’ve got Rigs and Addison heading to the clinic. They’ll stand watch.”
Jericho twisted more in the seat to look at Colt. “Ice said Brady has some British Special Forces guy tagging along. Gibson. I didn’t get a last name. He’ll jump in if needed. And if they’re really worried shit’s about to go sideways, they can call me, and I’ll get the SOG team here. It’ll complicate things but…”
But it was their only option, other than a hospital. Which wasn’t going to happen. Not unless Six would die otherwise.
Colt clenched his jaw to keep from screaming. This wasn’t how things were supposed to happen. “This Brady better be damn good.”
A hand on Colt’s arm. Sliding from the blood, but strong. Six chuckled. “It’s fine. I’ll be fine. Not the first time I’ve been shot. So, stop worrying and get Ellis somewhere safe. She’s our priority.”
Colt leaned over, getting up in Six’s face. “I swear, buddy. If you die on me, I’m going to fucking kill you.”
“You can try…”
Colt shook his head, stomach somewhere up by his throat. That icy feeling still beading his skin. He was done waiting in the wings—staying on the defensive. As soon as Ellis had caught her breath, she was going to start talking. And she wasn’t going to stop until Colt knew everything—including how to get her back.
CHAPTER TEN
Ellis needed to disappear. Not tomorrow or in a few hours. Now. Before Brett and his team started making plans. Calling in chits. While they were still regrouping at the safehouse. Still riding the adrenaline high. All she had to do was get to the closest exit and run.
It shouldn’t be hard. A trip to the washroom, then out the window. Gone in under thirty seconds. Five minutes. Maybe ten before they clued in. Came knocking. Not much of a head start, but it might be enough to vanish—save Brett’s team from ending up like Six. Bleeding. Life riding on a Hail Mary.
