Page 50 of Russian Rescue

Trying to stifle my smile, I said, “Wes wants me to tell you that he and you were going to do a synchronized dance to We Are Family at your wedding.”

“Wes?” She sat up. “Is it really him?”

I smiled. “Yes. It’s really him. I would let you talk to him, but we’re kinda pressed for time. He’s waiting in the car down on the street.”

“Oh my God.” She burst into tears and leaped off the bed, rushing into my arms.

I stumbled back for a second, shocked to feel her wrapped so tight around me, but finally returned the embrace.

“You’re okay,” I said as I squeezed her. “We’ve got you.”

“Oh my God,” Wes sighed into my comm. “You’re hugging my sister. She doesn’t even know she’s hugging my girlfriend. That’s amazing.”

“I’m not—” I started, then just sighed. “Shut up, Wes.”

Marcus chuckled beside me, having heard the whole exchange. I heard Knox laugh as well, but I ignored them and finished my hug.

“So, this next part is going to be a little scary, but you just need to trust us, okay?”

She wiped her eyes and nodded.

“Shit,” Wes said. “Six guards coming fast down the hall. They must have heard the window breaking.”

“Let’s move,” Marcus commanded as he lifted his pistol and moved out of the bedroom.

I slipped an arm around Amanda’s shoulder and guided her to the window.

“Quick. Put this on.” I pulled the simple waist-strap harness from my tactical vest. “Just step through the leg holes and slide it under your butt. I’m going to attach it to Marcus, and he’ll guide you down.”

“Down?” she gasped as she peered out the window at the enormous drop.

“We do this all the time. You’ll be safe.”

She stepped away from the window, shaking her head fiercely. “I... I can’t.”

“Yes. You can. If you want to live, you’ll do this.”

“Twenty seconds to contact,” Wes said, panic lifting his voice. “You’ve got to get her out of there.”

“Now, Amanda.” I shoved the strap into her hand. “Just step through and slide it under your ass. Marcus will go out the window, and I’ll hook you to him, then you’ll go out after him and dangle below him.”

“Dangle?” Her voice lifted to an impossibly high octave. “I’m just going to dangle? What if the strap breaks?”

“That strap can hold over three thousand pounds. You can’t weigh more than a buck twenty. You’ll be fine.”

“Ten seconds,” Wes alerted. “Hurry!”

“Now, Amanda! Men with guns are coming. Move!”

Her hands shook, but she stepped through the strap and slid it into place.

“Go, Marcus. Get her down, and I’ll hold them off.”

“Roger that,” he said, holstering his gun, then leaping out the window and hooking up to the descender. “Quickly, Amanda. Come to the edge, and I’ll hook you up.”

“Three seconds,” Wes breathed out. “Holy shit.”

She hesitated for a second, but I shouted. “Go! Now!”