Page 92 of Fixed Asset

“I’ll tell you, but can you please lower your weapon?”

“No.”

Shit. I did not want to hurt this woman. Berta respected her. Tom cared about her. Her sister had been murdered. And Carlos had brought her to an island to sell her.

But still . . .

“Really, Calista, Berta thinks highly of you, but I need you to get your gun out of my face.”

“Berta?”

Fucking hell, I was done. My left hand went to the outside of her wrist. I pushed the barrel away from my head and lunged while holding her hand with the gun in the air. I landed on top of her with a thud. I heard the air leave her lungs in a whoosh. A second later, I’d successfully disarmed her.

I pushed up on my knees, straddling her tiny waist, and told her, “We need to get back to my team.”

“Who are you?” she pushed out while trying to suck in air.

I climbed off her.

A loud explosion rocked the earth. I looked up and flames licked the night sky.

I held the gun back out to Calista. “Don’t shoot my team. Three men. All in black tees.”

“Got it.”

“Follow me.”

I crept to the end container and peeked around it. A gas station was fully engulfed in flames. There was a car on fire. But no guys.

Instinctively, I reached for my ear.

No comms. My phone was in my pack.

The guys would need to fall back and find cover before the fire drew a crowd. I thought about the map. The church at the end of the runway was too far away. They’d lose visual of me. The grocery store could be seen when we exited the plane, meaning the rooftop would be a good perch for overwatch.

Jack was for sure going to redden my ass for this.

“We have to get across the street to the grocery store.”

“Are you insane? I just spent two days tied to a bed in a hotel. You’re crazy if you think I’m taking a chance of being seen and taken again.”

“You’ll be safe. My team will be there to meet up with us.”

I didn’t have time to argue with her. We had to get back to the guys before people flooded the streets, making it harder to go unnoticed.

“You go,” she told me.

This was one of the many times I wished I was male. I was not big enough to toss her over my shoulder and carry her. Nor was I strong enough to do that even for the short distance to the grocery store.

“I’m not leaving you.”

“I appreciate you—”

She clamped her mouth shut when angry male voices sounded close.

Too close.

We turned at the same time.