Full Throttle (Black Knights Inc. #7)(27)
“Ah-ah-ah,” he admonished. “Let’s not make things worse than they already are. You do understand English, don’t you, cabrón?”
Shadow Man nodded, his eyes swinging wildly. The fear in them was crystal clear and Abby wanted to yell, Right on! How does it feel to be the one taken hostage? You like that, you evil mothersucker? Seriously, if karma was real, Shadow Man was due a terrible case of genital warts. Of course, not only would so many words be impossible with her mostly useless tongue, but they’d also be a distraction Carlos didn’t need. She satisfied herself with simply watching the terrorist squirm.
And squirm he did. Especially when Carlos whispered in his ear. “That’s good that you understand me, pendejo. Because while I’m itching for a fight—Did I mention I have enough ammunition on me to kill you and your friends every day for the next ten years?—the truth is Abby here isn’t much accustomed to gunplay. So, I’ll save her ears and delicate sensibilities and simply give you a little taste of what you’ve been giving her.”
Moving quicker than a Venus flytrap snapping closed on an unsuspecting insect, Steady spun Shadow Man and plunged the syringe into the guy’s throat with so much force it was a wonder the needle didn’t break in half.
Huzzah! she silently cheered.
“And I’ll leave you with this warning,” Carlos continued as the militant sagged in his arms. “You try to come after Abby again, and I will kill you. That’s a promise. I’ll put you in the ground so fast you won’t have time to make your peace with Allah.”
Uh… can you say, wow?
Carefully, almost gently, he lowered Shadow Man to the dirt floor of the hut. Then he was by her side, using his knife to cut away her bonds. The blood returned to her hands and feet in a rush of pins and needles. And a second later, bliss…
Because she was pulled tight against Carlos’s chest and his strong arms were wrapped around her, making her feel safe for the first time in hours. Seriously, she was so happy to see him that had he not been holding her down, she may have levitated up to the hut’s grass ceiling. And maybe it was the elation that accounted for the hard shimmy-shake her numb body was now in the middle of completing.
“It’s okay, cari?o,” he murmured in her ear, his breath moist against the side of her face. Man, he smelled good. Like native jasmine, faint aftershave, and the open road. Like health and heroics—if heroics had a smell, that is. Like everything strong and wonderful and capable. “It’s okay. I got you, now. I got you.”
He was rocking her back and forth, one of his big hands gently patting her back. She noticed something poking into her lower belly, about to cause her full bladder to burst wide open. “Is th-that an extra magazine in y-your pocket?” she asked. “Or are you j-just happy to see me?”
Carlos wrapped his hands around her shoulders and leaned back, staring at her with one dark brow raised. He reached into his hip pocket and pulled out an extra magazine. “Good to see that drug didn’t affect your winsome wit.”
“Figures about the clip,” she feigned a pout. “You always did consider me nothing more than a pesky kid sister.”
For a moment, he appeared startled and maybe a little bit…speculative? But then he shook his head. “Look, we’re working on a short clock here. This dickhead’s”—he hooked a thumb at Shadow Man’s inert form sprawled in the packed dirt—“friends are a few huts over in the middle of breakfast and distracted by some kind of Malaysian soap opera playing on an old tube television. But if he doesn’t return soon, they’ll send someone to check on him. We need to be long gone by then.”
“We?” she stressed, her relief taking an instant hit. “As in, you and me? There’s not an entire platoon of Rangers waiting for us outside?” And would you look at that? She wasn’t stumbling over her words because her tongue was no longer twice its usual size. The drug may be fast-acting, but it was also short-lived. Praise be to Merlin’s beard!
“That was the original plan.” He shoved the clip back into his pocket. “But as you know, shit happens. And now you’re stuck with little ol’ me.”
Well, she could think of many worse people to be stuck with. Just about anyone else was worse when compared to Carlos, in fact. But in the same breath, and not to be ungrateful or anything, she sure would feel better about this little rescue mission if there were fifty or so armed servicemen waiting outside.
“We’re going to move QQS.” He turned his back to her and pulled her arms around his neck. Standing, he took her weight against his back, then realized the drug’s effects still prohibited her from wrapping her legs around his waist.
Yep. She was beginning to get the impression this rescue plan had been made on the fly.
“What’s QQS?” she whispered when he sat back down on the bed, supporting her weight as he removed the army-green belt from the loops of his cargo pants.
“Quick, quiet, and small.” He pushed up her long skirt and wrapped her legs around his waist so he could cinch his belt tight around her calves. This time when he stood, manacling her wrists over his shoulders with one strong hand and holding his weapon at the ready with the other, she was the human version of a backpack.
To say the position was humiliating would be an understatement. And her complete and utter uselessness infuriated her. Here he was, risking life and limb to save her, and she could do nothing to help him. She wanted to scream. Instead, she turned her head—hallelujah, her neck muscles appeared to be working—to murmur in his ear. “In case I forget later, thank you for coming for me.”