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"I’m a man, and I’m between a woman’s legs; it was bound to happen."
"What now? Do we stay like this until someone behind that camera notices us? And even if they do, doesn’t mean they’re going to set us free, you know?"
"We could fuck and take our chances—"
"No." She begins to struggle under me. "No bloody way."
"Hold on to your panties. That was only a suggestion. On the other hand—" I pause and tilt my head toward the door.
"Get off me, you jerk."
"Shh," I hold a finger to my lips as I bring my attention to the door. The unmistakable sound of someone unlocking it reaches me.
I roll off of her, then prowl over to the door and stand to the side. It swings open and someone enters with a tray of food in his hands. I grab his arm and yank him forward. The tray crashes to the floor. The man turns toward me, but I am already moving. I clap my palms on either side of his head and pull it down as I raise my knee. It connects with his nose. The sound of bones crunching fills the room. Blood blooms on his face, and I hurl him to the side before it can taint my pants.
He hits the floor, rolls over once, then staggers to his feet. I rush him, grab him around the waist, and push him through the door of the bathroom. He hits the wall on the far end and straightens, weaving a little.Porca miseria.I leap toward him and smash my head into his already broken nose. His body jerks, then he slumps. I step back as he hits the floor and stays there. Finally, fuck!
I pivot, race out of the bathroom, pausing only to shut the door. I glance up to find she’s pulled on her jacket and holding out mine. I shrug into it, then follow her out of the room. I close the door to the cell and lock it. Of course, thatstronzoFreddie is going to check the cameras and see the room’s empty, but for whatever it’s worth, maybe locking the door will buy us a little time?
I race past her and down the corridor, as a man steps onto the landing. I bend, kick his legs out from under him, and he falls headfirst down the steps and slides all the way to the ground floor, leaving a trail of blood. I jump down the stairs, two at a time, then turn to find her making her way around the blood splatter, a look of revulsion on her features.
Before she reaches the last step, I grab her by the waist, and place her down on the floor. Then pivot and run toward the main door, and straight into a room filled with men.
"Cazzo." I skid to a stop and she slams into me from behind.
"What the hell," she protests, "can’t you see where you are going, you—" Her voice fades as she takes in the bunch of guys who glance from me to her, then back at me. As one, they pull out their guns.
"Back to your room," one of them growls.
I hold up my arms. "Why don’t you put away your guns and fight me? Or better still, give me a gun and we’ll see who wins."
"I don’t think so." One of the men walks toward me. I leap forward, grab his gun and aim it upward as he shoots. The bullet slams through the ceiling, and bits of plaster fall on us. I bring my booted foot down on his. He yells and his grasp on the gun slips. I tear it from his hands, turn the gun on him and shoot. Behind me, I sense her freeze as the man slumps.
"Stay behind me," I yell as I aim the gun and shoot and shoot and shoot. When I lower my gun, the room is silent. Five men lay fallen on the floor.
She steps around me when one of the men reaches for his gun. I throw myself on her, we hit the ground, and I manage to twist my body to avoid falling on her as I shoot him. The gun slips from his hand and he’s dead before he hits the floor.
I jump up, lean down to help her up, but she’s already on her feet. "I can take care of myself," she hisses as she reaches for the gun of one of the fallen men, then walks over to pick up a second gun.
"What are you doing?"
"Gathering the weapons to take with me, what does it look like?" she snarls.
I chuckle, then slide the gun I’m carrying into the small of my back, before I snatch up two more and head for the doorway, with her right behind me. I bypass the front door, heading for the kitchen, hoping the door beyond will lead to the garage.
I push open the door and the lights in the ceiling flicker on. A-n-d bingo. There are three cars, which I bypass as I head for the motorbike parked to the side. It’s a Ducati, which will have to do. Personally, I prefer a Harley. Nothing like the classics.
"How did you know you’d find the garage here?" she asks.
"Lucky guess? Also, couldn’t risk leaving by the front door in case there were more men waiting." Shouts, then footsteps sound behind us as I grab one of the helmets from the bike and smash it over my head, then snatch another and place it over hers.
"What are you doing?" Her scream is muffled.
I mount the bike, then jerk my chin at her. "Get on, Angel."
"Why can’t we take one of the cars?"
"Because I prefer a bike."
