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“Yeah? No shit, Sherlock.”
I smirk at the curse. I love when Sailor swears. She rarely does but, goddamn, when bad words come out of her mouth, it turns me on like nothing else. Well, maybe not quite as much as that slinky pink number she’s wearing right now.
I give my head a shake and pull at our bindings. “Can you twist and loosen the rope at all?” I ask.
“Yeah,” she says, turning her small body. “I think I can slip out.”
We push and pull, pressing against each other, and the ropes begin to loosen. I lift my fingers and start working on the knots. As a SEAL trainee, I was taught how to tie and untie a variety of knots quickly underwater. Our arms and legs were also bound and we were tossed into the pool and put through a variety of challenging tests. They call it drown proofing. It’s intense and slightly terrifying, but it taught me not to panic, how to keep a clear head and work my way through a problem methodically. Seems like a pretty specific skill, but its practical applications go way beyond the actual training. They’re lessons I still use, skills I’m glad I have. Especially at a time like this.
It takes a few minutes, but we manage to work the ropes loose enough for Sailor to slip free. Once she’s clear, I shrug them off and stand up, immediately assessing our situation.
“C’mon,” she says, heading toward the door, a determined look on her face. “We need to find DeLazzer.”
“Hang on!” I grab her arm. “We need a plan.”
“I already told you the plan– find DeLazzer.” She pulls her dress up, yanks the door open and marches out.
That’s my Warrior Woman,I think with grudging admiration. With a sigh, I follow on her heels. Her very high heels. How the hell does she even walk in those things? I know things will get really interesting if we have to run, but for some reason, I have a feeling they won’t slow her down. Not even a little bit.
We make it halfway down the hall, carefully passing closed doors, when I pause and look through a glass window. Inside, several large panels of plastic sheeting hang from the ceiling, almost down to the floor, draping over what looks like a hospital bed. The opaque plastic obscures my view, but I see the outline of someone in the bed.
“Sai!” I whisper loudly. She stops and turns. “C’mere.”
Sailor walks back over and looks through the glass. Suddenly, a hand covered in blotchy red spots shoots between the plastic panels, and we both jump. For a split second, when the curtains part, I get a fleeting view: a man is in the bed and he’s in bad shape. His face, ghostly pale, is covered with puss-filled scabs and blood drips from his nose.
But it’s his pained, haunted gaze that burns itself into my memory.
“Help me,” he cries, twisting in agony, reaching out to us. “Please.”
“Go,” I say, urging Sailor away.
“But-”
“No. Stay away from him.” I have no idea what’s up with the guy, but he looks like he has some kind of horrible infection or disease. We aren’t going anywhere near him.
As we sneak further into the lab looking for DeLazzer, we turn a corner and run smack into a man in tactical gear carrying several beakers and vials.
“Don’t let him take those!” someone yells.
DeLazzer, flanked by two more men, is approaching from the other end of the hallway and he’s gesturing to the guy carrying what looks like a science experiment in his hands. I nod at Sailor and we immediately separate, communicating without words. She goes after DeLazzer and I chase down the asshole with the tubes and vials.
Chapter Five: Sailor
I may not have my gun and be encumbered in heels and an evening dress, but I don’t let it slow me down. Racing over to DeLazzer, I skid to a halt and execute a perfect spinning back kick, catching the first thug in the chin with my pointy heel.Glad I chose a dress with a nice, long slit.
On the plus side, neither bad guy pulls a weapon on me so I fearlessly jump in, relying on my hand to hand combat skills. DeLazzer falls back out of the way and I can really open up, using all of my sparring tricks that I learned while fighting Maddox without fear of hurting the client. Bigger doesn’t always mean better and my fists might be small, but they pack a lot of punch. I’ve also got the element of surprise on my side, and I’m fast. These poor bastards have no idea what, or who, hit them. And they are simply no match for my training.
That’s clear when both men are lying on the ground two minutes later. One with two broken fingers and the other with a crooked, bloody nose.
“C’mon!” I call and grab DeLazzer. “We need to get Maddox and get out of here!”
“They went that way,” DeLazzer says and points down a long, narrow hall.
We hurry forward and, right as we catch up to them, I spot Maddox throwing a punch into the guy’s face. I rush over to help him, racing across the threshold into the smaller room, and hear DeLazzer call out to me, “Don’t break them!”
I’m so intent on helping Maddox that I don’t pay any attention to DeLazzer. Right as I’m about to jump into the fray, Maddox and the guy go down hard and I hear glass crunch. Whatever he was trying to steal just got crushed beneath their fighting bodies. As they roll sideways, I look down and see liquid and shattered test tubes and vials.
Maddox gets the upperhand, grabs the guy by his shirt and slams a massive fist into the man’s face. It’s a TKO and the guy drops like a bag of potatoes.
