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Nate and Mack stand with legs spread and rifles pointed at the cartel men seated on the sofa, coughing their lungs out with their hands in the air.
I hope they do.
“No girl,” Nathan says.
I make my way further into the house with small, careful sideways steps, keeping my rifle level with my sight. Step by step, I look for any doors that could lead into a room where Isabelle may be held.
If she is still here.
My trigger finger presses down a little harder and I have to force it back. If she is gone, I’m likely to shoot one of the fuckers. Or all of them.
I spot a door. One twist of the handle and I find it locked. Which means she could be in there with someone holding a gun to her head or a knife to her throat.
“Going in,” I mutter into the comms.
“Roger that,” Mack says. “Just give me a reason to shoot these assholes.”
I let myself take a second to smile and count my blessings I have these men in my life.
“Keep the fuck still,” Nate growls, and I hear a cry. “Stay down.”
Someone is going to have a sore head tomorrow. If we let them live.
I listen for a brief second with my head near the door, then point my gun and kick the thing open.
Boom.
It comes flying off the hinges, and I’d love to say I’m that strong, but the hinges were pathetic.
Smoke rushes inside the room, and I don’t get a good enough look before it fills up. I stand at the edge of the door with my rifle aimed and a potential target on me, hoping I see him first.
More importantly, I hope that Isabelle is still here.
I can’t wait a second longer.
I break every fucking rule and step inside, calling her name.
