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Yanking his wrists free with a quick snap, Gray reached over, swiped up one of Camille’s knives and swiftly slit the plastic ties around his ankles. Pushing up, he yanked the flash bang out of his pocket, pulled the pin and whipped it toward the Mercier twins.
A blinding flash of light and loud crack filled the room, followed by smoke. Hoping to use the distraction to find his Glock, Gray spotted it and launched himself forward. He landed on his belly and deftly switched the knife for the gun. Then, he rolled, fired off a couple of shots and managed to hit Julien.
The bullet knocked Julien sideways and blood spurted from his neck, pumping out bright red with each beat of his shocked and floundering heart. Gray knew he’d hit an artery and the man would bleed out in mere minutes.
Nearby, Camille gave an inhuman cry then pinned Gray with a rage-fueled stare through the smoke. She had one knife clutched in her fist, but she hesitated. Julien dropped to the floor and choked out her name in a garble of blood and confusion.
Fucking twin of death sure hadn’t expected that.
While a distraught Camille dropped down beside her dying brother, Gray bolted over to Saint. He grabbed his Ka-Bar out of his boot, slicing through one zip tie while Saint snapped the other one. Then he cut the ones around Saint’s ankles.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Saint rumbled.
Out of the corner of his eye, Gray caught movement through the smoky haze and belatedly realized Camille was back on her feet. She released a slew of presumably French curse words and let her single knife fly. The blade skimmed Gray’s cheek, leaving a neat slice, then landed squarely in Saint’s shoulder.
“Goddamit,” Saint swore and yanked the blade out. Blood poured from the wound as quickly as the profanities from Saint’s mouth.
Gray tossed him the cover from one of the aquariums, ordering, “Keep pressure on it,” before turning his attention to Camille.
The woman didn’t hesitate, just launched herself at him. Wrapping her arms and legs around him like an octopus, she knocked him off balance as her well-placed chop struck the gun from his hand.
Gray fell sideways and they slammed into the desk. Even though the woman was a fraction of his size and weight, she was scrappy as hell. She also knew mixed martial arts—Gray was guessing Krav Maga—and she didn’t hesitate to flip him onto his back, drop down and straddle him while punching her fists repeatedly into his kidney.
Ow, fuck.No doubt about it, he’d be pissing blood for days.
With an unholy screech, Camille was yanked backwards by her ponytail as Saint swung and tossed her across the room. She landed hard in an unceremonious heap with a pained whimper, clutching her scalp.
Saint dropped a chunk of her dark hair, kicking it away and wiping his hand on his shirt like he’d just accidentally touched a dead rodent.
Time to end this.Gray pulled himself up and assessed the situation. Julien was on his back, hand over his bloody chest, eyes rolled back in his head. He was dead. Camille, on the other hand, was still huddled over, facing away from them.
He figured she was hurting, but he didn’t expect the bitch was playing possum.
Gray saw the flash of the muzzle a second too late.
In a fit of fury, she fired the gun over and over, several slugs hitting Gray in the chest. It felt like a bulldozer to his sternum. But when a bullet hit his shoulder, his entire world tilted and a fiery pain tore through him, radiating down his arm and throughout his chest.
With a grunt, Gray staggered, his knees hitting the couch and he sank down.Fuck, it hurts.His vision blurred and he heard the repeated pull of a trigger. Not sure who was shooting, he braced for impact. The realization that it was Saint firing at Camille forced him to refocus and get his shit together. He squeezed his eyes closed for a moment, shook off the pain, and opened them in time to see the remaining terror twin running from the room.
Saint hurried over and snapped, “Let’s go, Demon.”
Clamping a hand over his shoulder, Gray fought through the pain and they both ran for the window Gray shot out earlier. After taking a quick look outside, they swung over the windowsill and headed straight for the jungle’s edge.
Their comms kicked in the moment they cleared the wall of Mesa’s home.
“Saint? Demon? Report.”
Braxton’s voice echoed over his earpiece and Gray focused on the foliage ahead, forcing himself to keep moving, while Saint responded. “On our way to the rendezvous point. Demon has a gunshot wound to the shoulder and is losing blood fast. Tell Aubrey she might have to dig out a bullet.”
“Shit. Copy. You guys need to haul ass. The Zodiac is ready and we need to launch ASAP.”
“We’re coming,” Saint grunted then grabbed Gray who staggered. He slid an arm under his shoulder and they hustled through the jungle.
Dizziness washed over Gray and he leaned on Saint, aware of the chaos coming from the burning warehouse. “Mesa,” he grumbled, trying to cut over to the warehouse.
“Fuck no.” Saint pulled him in the opposite direction. “You heard Pharaoh. We need to go.”
Gray wanted to argue, was desperate to put a bullet in Mesa, but he knew they were right. Even so, he hesitated. “My team deserves justice…”
