“Still feel like investigating?” she snapped. He cursed in what sounded like Portuguese and pulled a gun out of his ankle holster.
“That butler has been with me for five years,” he growled, and they both glanced over the edge of the table. Sure enough, the butler was standing behind a column, aiming a small .22 pistol at them.
“Should've paid him better. Are you guys hearing this!?” she shouted, cupping her hand over her ear.
“Can't get a sight on him. De Sant is on his way in,” Kingsley's voice was calm in her ear.
“Nothing to worry about, reenforcements of my own are on the way,” Damiano assured her as a door at the back of the courtyard opened up.
Lily looked behind her, and sure enough, several large men in suits were rushing out of a doorway. Several aimed their guns at the butler. But several aimed their weapons at Lily and Damiano.
This time, they both cursed in English.
He grabbed her arm and she was shocked when he forced her behind him. She held onto his waist while he moved them backwards, all while firing back at their attackers. They wound up behind a column as well, and he fired a couple more shots to keep the gunmen at bay.
“Chivalry, I'm shocked!” she yelled, dropping to a crouch and rolling up her right pant leg.
“You saved my life, I save yours. Now we're even,” he informed her. She snorted and pulled a butterfly knife out of a secret holster that was sewn into the side of her boot.
“You threatened to kill me and broke two of my fingers. I think you still owe me,” she pointed out.
“You know, I think I left my phone on that table. Would you care to take a stroll out there and get it for me?” he asked. Lily chuckled.
I actually kinda like this guy.
“Back up would be fucking super!” she yelled. Her earpiece popped and hissed for a moment before someone answered her.
“I'm on my way. De Sant is coming in the back, they've got the front surrounded.”
“Where are you?” she asked.
He didn't answer. A war between loyal and traitorous bodyguards waged in the courtyard behind them. Chunks of plaster flew everywhere and from somwehere, she could hear a woman screaming.
“This house belonged to my grandmother,” Damiano cursed, reloading his gun. “They are destroying my home!”
“Hey, at least we're alive,” Lily reminded him, peering between his legs, trying to count how many men were on the other side of them.
“I will kill all of them, and then find out where their families live, and burn them all alive,” he growled.
Jesus, okay, maybe I don't like him.
There was a crashing sound in the room down the corridor from them. Lily opened her blade while Damiano moved to stand in front of her again. The door to the room opened, and a very familiar rifle barrel appeared around the door jam. Kingsley Law was very particular about his weapons, he only used ones he'd personally bought.
“Looks like we warned you just in time, Mr. Ledo!” Kingsley's voice called out.
“Actually, I think it was your warning that set all this off,” Damiano replied.
“Best to get it out of the way, really. Can you make it in here? I've broken through a sky light, we could make our way onto the roof,” Kingsley suggested. Lily grimaced. The door was about thirty feet away.
“Can you lay down cover?” Lily asked.
Kingsley's head peeked out for a second, then disappeared as bullets peppered the door frame. They were lucky the bodyguards were busy with each other, but it wouldn't last forever, and their hiding spot wasn't very good. She felt horribly exposed. She could hear gun shots coming from inside the house, as well, and figured Marc wasn't having any easier of a time.
“Oh my, they are angry, aren't they!? C'mon, darling, let's get out of here!”
Three shots later, and two gun men went down. There was a bit of a struggle, with Damiano trying to get her to go ahead of him. She found it an interesting juxtaposition – that he could break her fingers and threaten to burn people alive, yet still tried to protect her and keep her safe. Almost sweet. Then she braced herself against the column and literally kicked him in the ass. He stumbled down the hall and fell into the room, bullets following him every step of the way.
“Ready!” she shouted.
“Got you covered!”
The rifle started firing, and she dashed from the column to the wall. She went to sprint the remaining distance, when there was another crash, this time from the back of the house.
“LILY!”
She froze for a second. Just a second. Should never hesitate, but she couldn't help it. She wasn't used to hearing her name in situations like that – she and Kingsley never used their real names. They had call signs. Of course, Marc didn't know that, because Marc had never worked with them before; didn't know they had a certain way of doing things. So hearing her name screamed out like that, in a place she'd never been before, she was startled.
Not as much, however, as she was a moment later when a very large man stepped out from around another column and pointed his shotgun directly at her. He pulled the trigger.
As she was knocked off her feet and thrown backwards from the force of the hit, all she could think was ...
Fuck me, De Sant really is bad luck.
Everything was muffled, like she was wearing headphones. She couldn't breathe. Or at least, it felt like she couldn't. She was laying on her back, but didn't quite remember hitting the ground. Her entire chest hurt, like she'd been struck by a gigantic fist. She wanted to move, wanted to feel her body, to assess the damage, but she couldn't lift an arm.
I can't die like this. How stupid. After everything I've been through.
A shadow fell across her, and as she gasped for air, she rolled her eyes around till she found the obstruction. The man who had shot her was leaning over her, grinning like an idiot. She winced and waited for him to point the shotgun at her head, but he didn't.
“One million dollars, holy shit,” the guy was laughing. “One million if I bring you in alive.”
The bounty. He's talking about the bounty. But if he wanted me alive, why did he shoot me?
It was right around then that Lily realized she wasn't bleeding. She coughed and finally managed to lift a hand to her chest. She felt around and discovered there were no bullet holes. What the hell? She had watched him fire the gun, she had felt the shot.
He grabbed her arm, obviously with the intention of picking her up, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Every tiny breath she took, it felt like her lungs were on fire. Her head was throbbing, and she was pretty sure she was crying. She could barely move, let alone fight back.
There was movement to her left, and before she could look, the fat man's head exploded. Then Damiano Ledo was leaning over her.
“I can't breathe,” she gasped, clawing at his arm as he wrapped it around her waist.
“You'll be okay, corazón, remain calm,” he said in a soft voice, hauling her to her feet. But she couldn't quite stand yet, her head was spinning because of the whole lack of oxygen thing she had going on, so Damiano simply picked her up.
She wasn't sure when it had happened, but Marc had joined their little party. A small fight ensued over who should carry her, but then a smattering of gunfire in their direction solved the problem. Kingsley and Marc laid down cover while Damiano ran towards the back of the house.
Lily's brain was having a huge argument with her body. She knew she should hold still, should calm down, should try to breathe. Her body, though, was having none of it. It squirmed and moved and panicked, worried that each breath was the last, nervous that she hadn't found her bullet wound yet.
There weren't many people in the house – the attack hadn't been premeditated, so there was no plan in effect. Everyone had just bumrushed the courtyard. Damiano kicked open a back door and they all ran into an alley.
They didn't stop running for about six blocks, winding their way through the neighborhood via
backyards and side streets. Behind one house there was an ancient looking detached garage, and Marc was able to get the door open. The guys went to do a recon of the house while Damiano took her into the garage and finally put her down, leaning her against a wall.
“How are you? You can breathe?” he asked, staring into her face. She gritted her teeth.
“Yes. Better, at least. What the fuck happened!?” she asked, pressing both her hands against the left side of her ribs. The pain was radiating from that area.
“It was a twelve gauge bean bag round. Used for riot control, I keep them in the house for ... interrogation purposes. May I lift your shirt?” he asked for permission even as his hands began to pull at the material. She nodded and lifted her arms as best she was able.
“A bean bag gun?” she wasn't even sure what that was.
“Yes. Instead of shells, that shot gun fired a bean bag. Same velocity. I'm very sorry,” he told her.
“For wha- oh my fucking god,” she groaned as his hand pressed on her ribs. She squeezed her eyes shut tight and spots danced across her eyelids.
“The good news is, I don't think any of your ribs are broken. You will have a very large bruise, be very sore for a while,” he warned her before pulling her shirt back into place.
“Awesome. I thought I'd been shot, I thought I was dead,” she sighed, dragging her fingers through her hair.
“You are very lucky.”
“I'm worth a lot of money. He was trying to collect the bounty.”
She realized he was staring at her, and she finally held still.
“You are a very brave woman,” he commented. She smiled.
“Just doing my job.”
“You have your truce. You were right about everything. Stankovski will no longer be welcome in any part of South or Central America. Whatever your goal is with him, I am at your service. Anything you need, I can get it for you,” he assured her.
“Good. Cause we're going to need a lot of stuff.”
Before she could elaborate, the door to the garage burst open. Kingsley strode across the room, heading straight for her. Marc came in behind him and slowly shut the door.
“Are you alright!?” the Brit demanded, but before she could answer, his hands were wandering over her torso.
“I'm alright, it was just a bean bag,” she assured him.
“Bean bag!?”
Damiano explained what that meant.
“I'm fine. Not even a broken rib. Hurts like a bitch,” she managed a laugh.
“I am so sorry, sweetheart.”
Lily had barely lifted her eyes to look at Marc when Kingsley swung around on him, his fist leading the way. He landed a solid right hook, right across Marc's jaw, and both men stumbled across the garage. They slammed into a wall, grabbing each other by their shirts.
“You almost got her killed, you bloody idiot!” Kingsley was shouting. Lily was stunned. She'd never seen him so upset before, she wasn't sure how to process it.
“I know that! But she's not dead, and you're the one who encourages her! You're the one who has been dragging her all over the goddamn world, shoving her into situations just like this! Exactly what I didn't want for her!” Marc yelled back, then kneed Kingsley in the stomach.
Kingsley was a more skilled fighter, but he was angry beyond being rational. Marc was heavier and hit harder, and seemed almost as angry, which actually made him more effective. It was a pretty even match. Any other time, and it would have been fun to watch them beat each other to a pulp, but Lily knew right then wasn't the time, and definitely not the place.
She went to move forward, to get in between them, but she took one step and was painfully reminded of her run in with the bean bag. She cried out and bent in half, holding onto her ribs. Damiano grabbed her arm, to steady her, then moved towards the pair of fighting mercenaries.
“Stop it! This is insanity! Do you have any idea the kind of noise you are making!? The kind of men who are probably looking for us!?” Damiano hissed, standing between them and forcing them to step apart. “I have heard rumors about both of you, about what professionals you are, how highly recommended you are. I'm certainly not seeing that right now.”
That seemed to work on Kingsley. He stepped back, his chest heaving while he wiped at a bloody lip. Marc didn't move a muscle, though he did keep his hand against his own ribs and his weight off his right knee.
“She should be dead, and that's on you,” Kingsley growled, before hocking spit and blood onto the ground.
“She shouldn't be here, and that's on you,” Marc snapped right back.
“You can both prove just how manly you are later, but for now, I'm alive and I'm relatively well, so can we please get the fuck out of here?” Lily hissed.
“I will make some calls. May I see your list of the people who are no longer my friends?” Damiano asked.
Lily handed over the list and Kingsley gave him a burner phone. When he went outside, the three of them stayed in the garage, mired in a beyond awkward silence. Lily finally leaned back against the wall, experimenting with taking deeper and deeper breaths.
“Alright, love?” Kingsley asked, heading over to her and pulling her shirt up.
“I will be. He checked, said nothing was broken,” Lily assured him. He was glaring at her rib cage, at the ugly red mark that was covering almost her entire left side. Then he looked into her eyes.
“I saw you on the ground, and I don't think I've ever been more afraid, darling,” he whispered. She smiled.
“Flirt. You're not scared of anything,” she teased, trying to make him feel better. He didn't say anything, just kept frowning down at her.
“Let me check her.”
Kingsley moved away and Marc took his spot. His touch was gentle, his fingers probing her individual ribs. He frowned as well, then swung his pack around to his front, digging around inside of it.
“They don't feel broken, but there could be a fracture. Definitely some swelling. I'm gonna wrap you up. It'll hurt at first, but it should help you breathe,” he told her, pressing the edge of an ace bandage against her skin. She exhaled as much as she could and held still as his arms went around her. She stared into his eyes as he made the first wrap, wincing when he pulled it tight.
He was right, it hurt while he wrapped. The pressure was excruciating. But when he was done, she stood up straight and took a couple of experimental breaths. It didn't hurt quite as much as it had before. She looked down her body and laughed. The bandage went from under her sports bra to just past her waistline, and was so tight that it squeezed an extra inch off her.
“At least I have a sexy figure again,” she tried to joke, tried to alleviate the tension in the room.
“Sweetheart, you're always sexy,” Marc sighed, then he smoothed her shirt back into place.
In the end, they called for a taxi. Damiano was too paranoid to trust anyone. Two yellow cars eventually pulled up in front of the house. Kingsley went out as point, his eyes peeled for any interference. Damiano helped Lily limp her way to the car, and Marc brought up the rear.
“I meant what I said. Anything you need, call me at this number,” Damiano said as he helped her into the backseat. He handed her back her piece of paper, with a long phone number scrawled across the back of it.
“You'll be hearing from us soon,” she assured him.
“Thank you, again. All of you. I would be dead, if it wasn't for you. I won't forget that.”
“We're counting on that,” Marc replied, then got into the back with Lily and shut the door. Kingsley slid into the front seat and Damiano pounded on the roof, telling the cabbie to go.
“Tell me something,” Lily sighed, struggling to find a position that wasn't painful.
“What?” Marc didn't look at her, just glared out the front of the vehicle.
“How come whenever we try to do something together, it always gets so fucked up?” she managed a laugh, though she really felt like crying.
“I think you were right
– we're just bad luck, sweetheart,” he replied, his voice low.
DAY TWO HUNDRED AND SEVENTEEN
They stopped at the apartment only long enough to get their stuff. Kingsley was still pissed off and barely spoke to her. He didn't say anything at all to Marc. Lily swallowed five extra strength tylenol and chugged an airplane bottle of gin, then packed up all her shit.
They wound up at a seedy motel, just off I-95 north. Kingsley got them a room with two twin beds; she wasn't sure how he was going to fit on his, he was around six-foot-four. Marc got his own room, several doors down. He hadn't spoken much, either, and Lily watched as he disappeared through his doorway.
“This was all a very big mistake. I'm terribly sorry, darling, but I can't allow this,” Kingsley started talking the moment she shut their door.
“Allow what?” Lily asked, laying flat on her back on her bed.
“De Sant is reckless. He's not himself. I've never seen him behave so unprofessionally. He almost got you killed. If you hadn't been there in that garage ...” his voice trailed off while he paced the length of his room.
“If I hadn't been there ... what would have happened?” she was curious.
“I would have shot him.”
She laughed.
“You're joking.”
“The fuck I am.”
“Law, he's your friend. You're friends,” she reminded him. He stopped pacing.
“He's dangerous. He wants to talk about the way things are handled in this business!? I promise you, anyone else would have a put a bullet in between his eyes for making a rookie mistake like that,” he growled. Lily finally sat up.
“I'm mad, too – I'm the one who got shot, after all. But you're upset because it was me. If it had been anyone else, you'd just laugh this off,” she pointed out. He glared at her.
“Of course I'm upset because it was you! If anything happened to you, Lily, I ... I don't know what I would do,” he said, before starting to pace again.
Out of Plans (The Mercenaries #2) Page 14
