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When Ivanovich took a step closer and raised his gun, Teag was ready. He flung himself forward, his head connecting solidly with the assassin’s gut. The two of them toppled over backward. The gun went off, then went flying from Ivanovich’s hands.
With his hands cuffed, Teag was at a disadvantage. He’d also lost a few pounds over the last couple weeks. The gunshot wound had definitely fucked with his workout routine. Ivanovich had been injured too, although Teag wasn’t sure how badly, but he hoped that might even the score a little.
Ivanovich grunted from the impact but recovered quickly and heaved Teag off of him. Teag scrambled to his side, ready to reengage, and instead got a fist to the face. He landed flat on his back. The assassin was on him in an instant. Teag could only hold up his cuffed wrists and try his best to ward off the blows.
When Ivanovich was satisfied that he’d rendered Teag immobile, he moved for the gun. Teag mustered every bit of energy he had left and launched himself at the man’s back. Flinging his cuffed wrists over Ivanovich’s head, Teag pulled the man into a choke hold. Again, the two tumbled to the ground.
Teag heard the man’s labored breathing, felt him struggling, prayed he would run out of air and pass out very soon. Ivanovich leaned hard to the left and then flailed back to the right, his elbow connecting with Teag’s ribs.
The pain echoed through Teag’s damaged chest, the searing intensity leaving him breathless. Ivanovich rolled out from beneath Teag’s slackened grasp and crawled toward the gun. Teag rolled and grabbed hold of the man’s foot.
“Stop!” a voice yelled.
Teag and Ivanovich froze. A red dot appeared on the assassin’s back, but even better, when Teag looked up, Maria stood there like an avenging angel. In the soft glow of the camp light, he could see the fierce expression on her face, the dark strands of hair plastered to her forehead, and best of all, the gun clutched confidently in her hands.
“Please, reach for it,” she said, sneering at Ivanovich. The assassin didn’t so much as twitch.
Teag attempted a laugh, but spewed blood from his mouth instead.
The noise of stomping feet and shouting voices hummed in the background of his mind. He let go of Ivanovich’s leg and carefully rolled to the side, groaning with the effort.
“He’s secure,” Cam Taylor said.
Maria was on her knees next to Teag, touching him, prodding him gently around the chest and ribs. “How badly are you hurt?” she asked.
He blinked up at her. “I’ll be okay,” he promised.
A tear leaked from her eye, and she wiped it away furiously. “Why would you do this? You could be dead! You should be dead!” The tone of her voice rose an octave.
“I’m sorry. This was what I could live with,” he said honestly.
“I’m so mad at you,” she said, choking on a sob.
“I’ll spend the rest of my life apologizing,” he promised.
“Yes, you will.”
“We need to go,” Cam said, interrupting. “Teag, can you move?”
“Yeah.”
Maria tugged him to his feet, tucking herself against him and practically holding up his battered body.
“Fuck me twice on Tuesday,” he hissed, as a fresh round of agony speared through his body.
“Maybe when we get home, if you’re lucky,” Maria whispered, soft enough that only he could hear.
This time Teag was able to wheeze out a laugh. Through his one open eye, he could see Cam and Marco on either side of Ivanovich. The assassin’s hands were bound behind his back, and he stumbled when they shoved him toward the door.
“Annabelle? Is she okay?” Teag asked, as he and Maria trudged slowly behind the rest of the team.
“Tank’s got her. She seems shaken up, but not injured,” Maria assured him.
“Good. That’s good,” he wheezed.
“It’s back to the hospital for you,” Maria said, as they left the broken-down lobby.
When they stepped outside, Teag felt Maria stiffen next to him.
