by Kells, India
She didn’t have to ponder on the question since Smiley took a swing at her. The man was quick and she had to concentrate to make sure she didn’t let her guard down. One wrong move and she was over. The space was small and it was only a matter of time until someone saw what was going on from the other side of the window and called the cops.
A crash sounded from the back and distracted her enough to give an opening to Smiley, who punched her in the stomach and on the side of the head. She lost her rod and had trouble pushing back the pain to keep sight on him and avoid his foot aiming at her face. Gabrielle shook her head and tried to clear it as Smiley picked up her rod and examined it.
“So many ways to kill a human being, don’t you think? I would like to try a new one with this tool in my hand.”
Gabrielle braced and evaded the first swing. Unfortunately, she miscalculated where the unconscious cleaning man lay, and she stumbled. Smiley punched her in the ribs and she flew into the shelf, bags of dried food and cans falling on her like rubble. Pain blurred her vision while she tried to brace on her knees and feet to avoid another attack. As she evaded a kick to the head, she saw Smiley’s lost gun from the corner of her eye, hidden by a chair and now scattered bags of dog food. Smiley advanced, laughing with glee, an excited expression on his face. Gabrielle crawled out of reach, once again, but she wouldn’t be able to evade him much longer. Pushing her hair away from her face, she noticed that her hand came back bloody. Smiley swung his rod to strike, but something hit him from behind. He stumbled forward, but turned to face his attacker. Sully stood with the long metal rod from the coat hanger she had dropped earlier. He was covered with blood and she feared for his wounds. It was impossible to know who the blood belonged to, or if there was additional damage on him. Her heart twisted.
Smiley’s face turned into a rictus as he lunged forward at the SEAL, forcing Sully to drop his weapon. The two men wrestled for an instant and blows flew. Smiley was quick, but Sully hit hard and at strategic places each and every time. Smiley’s knees seemed less steady, but they couldn’t wait any longer. The threat needed to be taken care of. Gabrielle wiped at the blood trickling from her temple, reached for the gun, and aimed.
The two men were moving fast and it was impossible to fire without risking hitting Sully. Gabrielle was waiting until she could have a clear shot, which were endlessly long seconds, when she saw movement on her left. The cleaning man. Shit. First, he was dizzy, but when he saw the fight in front of him, he didn’t hesitate—he jumped onto Smiley’s back, digging his fingers into his eyes. It only destabilized the hit man for a second, but he used his extra weight to launch himself at Sully, who received the brunt of the momentum before falling down. Smiley pushed the cleaning man, hitting him with his elbow to his face, and straightened up to assess the situation. That’s when she shot two rounds at his head. His smile was gone when he fell to the floor.
Gun still in her hand, Gabrielle scrambled to Sully, who had pushed the cleaning man aside and was coughing while holding his side.
“Sully!” Gabrielle positioned herself to keep the cleaning man in her line of vision. She pushed apart the remains of his T-shirt and was glad to see that the dressing was still intact. The cleaning man moved and she instantly aimed at him. The man started to speak hurriedly in a language she didn’t understand, his hands in the air. She was seriously debating killing him. He had seen too much and could give a clear description of them both.
“He pleads to not kill him, which I think is a good idea, honey.” Sully’s voice was hoarse with pain.
Her gun didn’t lower. Not yet. “You speak Czech?”
Sully moved to a kneeling position. “He’s speaking a sort of Pakistani dialect. I’m a bit rusty, but I got the gist of it. He says we saved his life and he’s immensely grateful. He also tells us he has cash in his pocket for us, if we need it. Then, he repeats, pleads, for you not to kill him.”
Gabrielle took a long look at the man before her. She had to admit he attacked the right man, but could they trust him? Did they have a choice in the matter? Lowering her gun, she helped Sully to his feet. The cleaning man came to help and grabbed Sully’s hand before nodding to her. He mumbled many other incomprehensible words. Sully nodded and said something back. From a distance, sirens blared. Their time was up. With one hand around his waist, they left the man be behind, and rushed to the back store. The place seemed like a tornado had suddenly wreaked havoc.
She glanced up and Sully shrugged. “I had to redecorate.”
Gabrielle rolled her eyes when she saw two feet from under a fallen shelf. “Yeah, I can see that.”
One quick look in the back alley told them they had a minute before the place was swarmed with cops. Gabrielle was incredibly grateful when she spotted a car on the corner. He may hide it well, but she knew it was only a question of time before the SEAL collapsed from exhaustion and blood loss. Once behind the wheel, Gabrielle paced herself, unwilling to draw any attention. With luck, the owner of the car wouldn’t report it missing before morning.
Sully snaked his hand on her thigh and squeezed. “Go west. There is a cluster of warehouses and old plants. Some of them are no longer operating. We can lay low there for a while.”
“We can’t lay low, Sully, you need medical attention. Those bullets—”
“I’m fine for now.” Sully sat back and closed his eyes. His face was clammy, which meant internal bleeding and possible fever were setting in. They couldn’t trust anyone, but there had to be a solution …
At a light, she turned to the man resting on the passenger seat and one thing was clear: she had to save him. Whatever the cost.
Chapter 7
Sully couldn’t breathe. Each attempt sent pulsing pain through his side. Gabrielle had bound his bullet wound tightly, but he could feel blood seeping through the dressing and wetting his fingers. It seems that their earlier fight had consequences after all.
He felt defenseless and strangely, he wasn’t worried. Like watching a movie, he saw Gabrielle drag him into an empty warehouse and wait for the night to fall on Prague. He had never seen her like that before. She was in full SEAL mode, making sure he was safe and tending to him as much as she could, with the little she even had. She held her gun close; her eyes were glacial, except when she was checking up on him. Then, her gaze softened and her hands were warm on his skin.
He was no medic, but it wasn’t looking good. The bleeding had slowed down considerably. Nonetheless, two bullets tore through his flesh and had nicked some organs. They couldn’t go to the hospital; Simon would have them on watch. And what would happen next, he feared more than death itself. Gabrielle would go after that bastard. Alone. She would make sure he was safe, and do everything in her power to free Beatrice and the admiral. Knowing she would risk everything for them all while he lay powerless, maybe even dead, tore at his heart. Damn it! He loved her. He loved that foolish, stubborn, incredible woman. And if she couldn’t even think about protecting herself, he would have a word to say about it …
He must have zoned out, because when he woke up, he was in a car again. Gabrielle was driving through a maze of streets he didn’t recognize. Not that he had been in Prague often, but with his buzzing headache and pain in his side, he didn’t feel he could recognize anything at all.
“Where are we?” In his ears, his voice sounded raw and pasty.
Gabrielle took a quick look at him and grabbed his free hand. “Babe, you’re not doing well. I had to make a decision.”
Sully never liked those two sentences too close together. It meant trouble half the time.
“What kind of decision?” The more he talked, the more he sounded like a drunken twit.
Gabrielle stopped at a corner, glancing up at the name before taking a right. The streets seemed empty. Where were they?
“A long time ago, Bea and I were in a tight spot, here in Prague.”
Sully chuckled, but ground his teeth at the pain surging from his side. “No offense, but you l
adies are always in a tight spot.”
She squeezed his hand, but didn’t react to his taunt. “We had to split and Bea told me of a place I could take refuge if ever I needed it. At the end, I didn’t have to use the information, but I never forgot it.”
Sully tried to straighten up without success. “What kind of refuge?”
Gabrielle took another right and the cobbled road seemed to narrow considerably before she braked and cut off the engine at last.
“The religious kind.”
Sully looked up, discovering they had stopped in front of a fortress. Or something like it.
“I never used the refuge, but it’s the only place we can be safe for a while. And if we’re lucky, someone could check out your wounds.”
Gabrielle squeezed his hand again before exiting the car and coming around to open his door. Even if he tried to stand straight, she took the brunt of his weight. He could still walk, but his strength was fading fast. His head fell slightly to the side and he buried his nose in her hair. God, he would miss her scent, he would miss her. Her, most of all.
Then, they were in front of an ornate wooden door. Gabrielle stretched and rang the bell. Seconds passed and the world whirled. He kept steady, hanging on to Gabrielle. Another moment passed when he heard footsteps from the other side of the door. A small square opened.
A female voice asked a question, but he couldn’t understand. As he slipped in and out of consciousness, Gabrielle took hold of his belt before stepping closer to the trap.
“Do you speak English? We need help. We’re here to see Abbess Brigit. Is she here? My name of Gabrielle. I’m a friend of Beatrice Dante.”
Abbess Brigit? Holy shit, this is a nunnery?
The other woman closed the trap.
Sully leaned some more. “Is that a good or a bad sign?”
Gabrielle sighed. “I don’t know. Sully, this is my last option. If they don’t open that door, I’m bringing you to the hospital.”
He shook his head. “You know it’s not an option, honey. We will find a solution, we always do.”
Her laugh sounded more like a sob and he kissed her temple. As she turned her head and he saw her beautiful eyes glistening with tears, the wide doors creaked open. Several nuns approached them; one of them seemed strangely familiar.
“You’re very welcome to my convent. I’m Mother Abbess Brigit.”
He thought it was a hallucination as he saw Beatrice Dante, dressed as a nun in front of them.
Sully was still blinking many times and blamed it on the low light and high blood loss until Gabrielle spoke.
“You? Here?” Her voice couldn’t hide incredulity. Hours before, they had seen Beatrice and the admiral gagged and bound to chairs. Was this possible?
Smiling, Abbess Brigit—or was it her—shook her head. “This isn’t time for questions, my child. Let’s take care of your companion first. I will answer all of them in good time.”
The nuns surrounded him, pulling him away from Gabrielle. He resisted and tried to grab her hand, but the effort was too difficult. His head buzzed and blackness shut down his brain.
***
Calmness and warmth, and a pleasant sensation over his brow—those were the first things Sully noticed when he emerged.
The light was so low; he didn’t know if night had fallen or if the curtains were drawn. The room smelled of wax and incense. And Gabrielle. “Gabrielle.”
“I’m here, sailor.”
He didn’t know he had spoken her name, and was ridiculously relieved to hear her voice, to have her by his side, wherever he was.
Gabrielle tenderly caressed his forehead and cheek before she came into focus.
“Gabrielle, are you all right?”
Smiling, she shook her head. “And the hero never gives up. Even without half of your blood, and gaping wounds, you dare to ask me that question. You know I wasn’t the one who stopped bullets with my abdomen.”
Sully tried to smile and hoped it reached his face. “Well, honey, I prefer to get the patchwork, if I can help it. It looks more virile on a man.”
Gabrielle leaned forward, rubbing her cheek against his before kissing his lips lightly. Far too short in Sully’s opinion.
“We’ll argue about it later. Now, you need to rest.”
Sully glanced around at the tiny room. All stone walls with a slim window on one side, no light seeping through. He was on a cot. Apart from a chair on which Gabrielle had been sitting and a pile of blankets in the corner, the room looked like a cell.
“Where are we, honey? Details are sketchy after our little ride. It may sound kinky, but I started hallucinating when I saw Beatrice Dante dressed as a nun.”
Gabrielle laughed. “Well, if it was a naughty dream, I was in the same as one as you. But I didn’t see Abbess Brigit after we were ushered in.”
Tired, he laid back on his pillow. “Please, tell me what happened.”
Gabrielle resumed the soothing caress in his hair. “You fainted when we crossed the threshold.”
“I never faint, I lost consciousness …”
“If you want to play with semantics you must feel better. Nevertheless, as you collapsed, let’s say, the nuns helped me carry you to the infirmary. One of them, I can’t recall her name, was a war nurse in a past life. If I stopped praying long ago, I started again at that exact moment.”
Blindly, Sully reached for her knee and squeezed. He knew how close he had been to departing, and he wouldn’t have gone gladly. He understood how she felt. He heard her swallow before resuming.
“She removed the bullets, sewed you up, and gave you something for the infection as well as some fluids and blood. Hours later, when she was done, she simply stood up and told me she had completed half of the task and was now going to work on the other half, praying God and asking him to allow you to stay a little longer among us. When you stabilized, we carried you to this room.”
“How long?”
“A little more than ten hours.”
Twelve hours total out of the twenty-four they had to save Beatrice and the admiral, if he was calculating right, since they fled Simon’s infernal tower. That he didn’t forget.
“What are we going to do?” His throat was parched, but he needed to clear things up first.
“Pardon me?”
Sully opened his eyes to see the incredulity on her beautiful face. She hadn’t had the time to shower and blood still stained her cheek; her blonde hair was haphazardly tied into a ponytail.
“Gabrielle, don’t tell me you’re considering leaving Beatrice and the admiral in the hands of this psychopath. I wouldn’t believe you. In ten hours, it’s impossible your brain hasn’t come up with some sort of plan to rescue them.”
Gabrielle shook her head, straightened in her chair, and looked toward the window. “No rescue plan. How can I rescue anyone with you wounded? No Intel, no weapon, no help, no edge. How can I plan any sort of rescue?”
Sully tried to half sit on his bed, careful of his bandages and the ghost pain so close to the surface, ready to pounce if he dared moving too much. “Honey, I’m sorry.”
Gabrielle returned her gaze to him, angling her head. “For what?”
“I don’t know. I’m just sorry we can’t save your friend.”
Gabrielle covered his hand with hers. “We can’t save yours either.”
Sully nodded, pushing thoughts of the admiral to the back of his mind as someone knocked softly on the door.
“Am I interrupting something? I heard your voices; I assumed you were coherent again, my son.”
Sully blinked again as the hallucination walked inside the room.
That face! It was the same as Beatrice Dante’s … the same freckled cheekbones, slanted eyes, and reddish eyebrows he had seen hours before when they walked in on Simon Feander. However, this one was all wrapped up in a black cloak.
Gabrielle stood up, but stayed there frozen, observing, as if trying to solve a strange puzzle materializing before her eye
s.
“Children, I know what you may be thinking and even though you should both be resting, I believe it’s the time for some explanations.”
***
Gabrielle sat beside Sully on his cot and unconsciously grabbed his hand. She couldn’t turn away from the woman. A nun with the very same face she’d known for so long. However, the more she examined, the more she sensed a difference in the energy of the person in front of her. Where Bea showed a calm façade containing a powerful and violent energy, the nun had a kind and peaceful face with what Gabrielle would describe as a stubborn streak. She may appear soft, but she doubted it was reality.
The nun smiled, never flinching from her insistent gaze. “I look like her, don’t I?”
