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?s voice, filled with fury, rang out.
The door slammed with Friday trapped inside. The car sped off, leaving her with three huge men, one of whom had a gun aimed at her head.
Chapter Twenty-Three
They had Friday.
They’d taken her from him. Taken her when he’d promised to keep her safe. He was going to paint Mexico red with the blood of the men who stole her from him. Rage was a cold blade inside him. Honed and ready to strike. Even as the door of the vehicle slammed shut, leaving him with the memory of her terror-stricken face, Striker knew nothing short of death would keep him from getting her back.
From his position, crouched in the driver’s seat, he heard the gunfire ease. They had what they wanted. Killing Striker and Mace wasn’t part of the plan. All they cared about was capturing the woman.
That didn’t mean they wouldn’t die.
“On three.” He barked the order, knowing his teammate would already know what he intended. They’d been in this situation too many times to count and knew how to cover each other’s backs.
“One. Two. Three.” They sat up at the same time, firing over each other’s shoulders, taking out as many of the enemy as they could.
When they were finished, there was silence.
“This side is clear.” Mace threw open his door and they scrambled out. Keeping their backs to the car, using it for cover. “You go after Friday, I’ll deal with this.”
“This first—nobody walks out of here. Am I clear?” He couldn’t take the chance that a survivor would come after his woman. And she was his. In a way he couldn’t explain but felt deep in his soul. They were linked together, as though made for each other, and he wouldn’t let anyone threaten her, or the thing building between them.
He ripped off his eyepatch and stared at the car parked at an angle behind theirs. Three men were hunkered down behind it, using it as cover, their heat signatures clearly visible to him through the vehicle. He took aim. Three shots later, they were no longer a threat.
“I should have put a tracker on her,” Mace said. “I never even thought about it. Now we don’t know which way they went. Shit, we need to get the team to hack into the camera grid. See if they can spot her.”
“There’s no need.” Striker checked his gun. Empty. He strode over to one of the dead men and relieved him of his laser gun. “I know where she’s heading. They’re going south on the highway out of the city.”
“Did you put a tracker on her?”
“No.” He looked up at his second-in-command, his gaze icy. “My diamondback is with her.”
It took a second for his words to sink in before his partner’s eyes dropped to Striker’s neck where the diamondback’s head normally rested. “No way.”
“It threw itself at her when she screamed my name. Damn near ripped me apart separating that fast. It’s in the van with her now.”
He started jogging in the direction the kidnappers had taken Friday. Behind him, sirens blared, and he knew the cops were looking for them. With the number of cameras covering the area, it wouldn’t take long for them to be found. They needed to get Friday and get to the jet—Monterrey had become far too dangerous for them.
They ducked around a building into a quiet street filled with businesses that hadn’t yet opened.
“We need another vehicle.” He jogged to the end of the street, keeping his eyes peeled for anything they could take.
“You can communicate with your animal? Even over distance? We’ve never tried that. We don’t know what happens if we get too far from each other.”
“I don’t think my snake cares what might happen if we get too far apart. Right now, he’s pissed and planning to take out everybody who’s a threat to Friday.”
“Hell, how fast-acting is its poison?”
“Not fast enough. There’s a good chance they’ll kill the snake before it kills them.”
The color drained from his best friend’s face. “If the snake dies…”
There was no need to say anything more. His relationship with his animal half was symbiotic. If one went, the other went, too. They wouldn’t be able to live without each other.
“I’m more worried about him striking the driver. They’re speeding. If they crash, we can say goodbye to my snake and to Friday.” He came to a halt and pointed to an old model delivery van. “There. It doesn’t have hover, but we should be able to hotwire it.”
With his teammate watching his back, he slipped under the van and rewired the controls. A few seconds later they were heading out of town in the direction Friday’s captors had taken her.
