Page 32 of Breached

“All done. Ready to go?” Prescott drew me back to the present as she rounded the hood and slipped into the driver’s seat. I opened the door and hopped inside and saw the sky starting to brighten at the crest. In this part of New Mexico, it was flat as far as the eye could see. “Are you okay, Nicole?”

“Yeah,” I tried to smile and shake off my worries, “my mind is just spinning.” I clicked my seatbelt in, and we headed back onto the dark road. “How long have you been at this base?” I figured I should make small talk since I’d been so quiet.

“Two years now. At first, I hated it, being from Wisconsin. I loved the snow and season changes, but the people won me over, and I can’t imagine working anywhere else.” She smiled. “It must be a shock for you being back in the States after living and working in Mexico for so many years.”

“It’s been an adjustment,” I let out a heavy sigh, “but I’ve put my life on hold for so long chasing the next story that I’m ready for a change of pace.”

“I’m sure working with those hot special ops guys helps with that decision.” Her grin glowed as headlights lit up her face. My chest warmed when I thought of Paul and the way his touch made my body come alive. “And the fact you just said nothing just told me everything.” She laughed—then suddenly we were weightless and everything flew around us in slow motion. I hadn’t felt any impact. Had I? I blinked hard as I realized we were upside down, and it was as if gravity suddenly returned in that instant. The sound of metal dragging along pavement pierced my ears. Sparks licked around the blown-out windshield, and then we stopped in a cloud of smoke and dust.

Prescott called, “Nicole?”

“I’m good.” I took a moment to catch my breath. “Did we hit something?”

“No idea.” She unclipped her seatbelt and fell out of her seat. I did the same and landed awkwardly on my barely healed side, thanks to that bullet at Zack’s.

The sound of shots being fired along with squealing tires and bright headlights had us scrambling out through the windshield. I had just ducked below the bumper when a round of bullets flew my way.

Prescott retrieved her weapon and got into position. She fired off some shots. “Nicole, keep low and head back to the others!”

Others? I didn’t see any others! Where were the guys who came with us?

“Over there!” She pointed to a broken old truck that was half in a ditch. “Get behind that before it gets any brighter!” She was right. It was still dark, but there was just enough light to make things out. I pushed off my feet and raced across the pavement, nearly falling on my face as I tripped over the debris from the accident.

So many things raced through my mind as the shooting continued. Did Bruno know I was here? How? Where were the others? I still didn’t see anyone. Were they still alive? And how was I going to contact Blackstone?

I didn’t have a weapon, and I had no idea how close we were to the base. Once I reached the cover of the truck, I dropped to the ground and flattened myself behind a wheel. My heart and lungs both fought for space in my chest. Shots rang out, and I covered my ears and drew in my legs, trying to make myself small. My foot hit something, and I felt some kind of metal pipe—I snagged it and held it close. The odds weren’t in my favor, but I’d never go down without a fight.

It was oddly comforting when I heard the single bullets coming from where Prescott was—it meant she was still alive—for now.

Footsteps raced toward me, and I knew this was my moment. Keeping low, I balanced on the balls of my feet with the pipe ready to swing once the person got close enough. I jumped up ready to let it fly, only to be slammed against the truck door and had a hand slapped over my mouth. Then the gates of hell opened as I realized I was face to face with Eric Noah.

Zip! Zip! Zip! Bullets drove their way into the side of the truck. I was pushed to the ground, and Eric’s body landed on top of mine. I didn’t have time to freak out as he started shooting back under the vehicle. I used the sleeve of my sweater to act as a mask from the dust and dirt and squeezed my eyes shut as I tried not to consider his motives for why he’d saved me.

Suddenly, he was off me, and I opened my eyes to see Eric Noah in a full-out brawl with someone. Fists were thrown, and he drilled the guy he fought with in the chin. More bullets smacked into the ground around them, and as he ducked, his gun fell from his waistband next to me. His gaze shot to mine, then back at the man who was about to charge him again. I went for the weapon at the same time he did, but I beat him to it. I raised it high and shot his attacker in the neck, even though I was aiming for his chest.

I held the gun with both hands, still pointing it in the air. He reached over and removed it from my hand before I had a chance to turn it on him. I didn’t think I wanted to shoot him—after all, he did just save me—but I would if I got the sense that he was going to take me to Bruno.

Eric got to his feet and checked if the coast was clear. My chest heaved as I tried to catch my breath.

“Up,” he grunted, and when I didn’t move quickly enough, he lifted me to my feet effortlessly, and in a numb state of mind, I started to walk toward the front of the truck. It was a little brighter now, just enough to make out the shapes around us.

Normally, I handled tense situations well, but my head was fuzzy and my thoughts scrambled. Lord, I hope I don’t have a concussion.

Bang! Bang!

A shotgun blew the mirror off inches from me, and I almost dropped to my knees.

“Back.” He tapped my hip twice, and I froze as my mind spun in confusion.

With both of us once again on the ground, he directed me behind him, he then lined up the gun and waited. Nothing.

“Pipe,” he grunted over his shoulder. I squinted, trying to locate it. When I did, I handed it to him, and he tossed it a few yards away, drawing attention away from us.

The shotgun rang out again, and Eric fired twice. A groan could be heard and the shots stopped.

“Stay.” He stood then waited a beat before he raced toward Prescott’s upside-down vehicle. On all fours, I moved around the back of the truck and watched as he pulled Prescott from the back seat, checked her pulse, and, to my relief, helped her to sit upright.

He then grabbed a shotgun from the ground, checked to see if it was loaded, and then went to each man who lay on the ground and kicked their weapons away. Once he finished and I felt safe that the area was secure—I raced toward Prescott.