Page 38 of Benny

“Come now. It’ll make it easier for your comrades in the Police Department to identify him.”

His voice hadn’t shifted one iota even though he was basically promising Benny’s death. Jordan had no doubt he would deliver on that promise if he could.

Cursing the fact that her nanites had never activated, she gave Benny a quick hand signal she hoped he understood, then lunged sideways.

She fired at the gunman on the right, aiming for his thigh, and saw him go down, then ducked beneath the second man’s weapon as he swung it toward her. She fired again--another thigh shot--before whipping her weapon around and centering it on La Sombra.

Everything had happened in seconds. Both henchmen were on the ground, and Benny was using the delivery driver as a human shield.

Thank God he’d understood her signal.

La Sombra had used the time to draw his own weapon, leaving the two of them in a standoff.

A hot burn streaked down Jordan’s right side as her adrenaline began to leach away. The second gunman had gotten off a shot. The wound didn’t feel life-threatening, more like a painful inconvenience, but she could feel blood trickling down her side.

“Well, that was impressive,” the cartel leader said. “I don’t suppose you’d consider coming to work for me, since you’ve just dispatched two of my best bodyguards?” He quirked an eyebrow at her. “The compensation is quite lucrative. Much better than your time with the Police Department or the Air Force.”

“I’ll pass,” Jordan said.

She was close enough now to take the headshot and knew she was good enough to make it. But La Sombra had an uncanny confidence that told her his shot would land as well, and likely be fatal.

At her back, the delivery guy made a strangled sound, and then Benny charged forward.

Goddammit. He was going to get shot, and they had no idea if his nanites still worked. Hadn’t had the foresight to check.

But his charge pulled La Sombra’s gaze from her just long enough. It was nothing more than the flick of his eyes, but she took it.

Her weapon bucked in her hand just as his did, his shot aimed at Benny. She heard Benny’s gasp as the bullet hit him and watched La Sombra crumple into a heap, the hole her bullet had made centered in his forehead. Then she turned to her lover, who was clutching his shoulder.

“Fucker got me,” he said between gritted teeth.

Instead of berating him for being all heroic, Jordan thought fast as she kicked the cartel members’ weapons toward the kitchen, out of their reach, as well as that of the unconscious delivery guy. It was as much as she could secure the scene without screwing it up, and because it’d been her bullet that’d ended at least one life, and potentially three, she wanted it to stay as pristine as possible.

With that done, she turned her attention back to Benny. The unmuffled gunshots would alert the neighbors, who’d likely just been sitting down to dinner. They’d call 911. This was suburbia, for God’s sake. “Go to the bedroom. See if there’s a dark-colored jacket or windbreaker you can wear.”

“You’re bleeding too.” He glanced at his shoulder. “The nanites will probably heal me. You don’t have that luxury.”

“We don’t know that for sure.” She shook her head. “In fact, slip out the way they came in, but don’t touch anything. When they search the house and see your things, I’ll say you went to the grocery store.”

“Negative. There’s no way you can explain away the fact that you put down four people by yourself,” Benny said reasonably. “I’ll put the jacket on, but I can already feel the nanites working. By the time they get here, the wound will have closed.”

He lifted the edge of her shirt and examined her side. “It’s just a graze. Hold on.” He hurried into the kitchen and grabbed a clean towel. “Hold pressure on this. I’ll be right back.”

He bolted for the bedroom as sirens began to wail in the distance.

Jordan grabbed her phone and called 911.

“This is Officer Jordan Gonzalez.” She rattled off her badge number and the address. “Shots fired. I’ve been hit, but the wound isn’t life-threatening. Four assailants are down. The scene is as secure as I can make it. I’m with one houseguest, male, thirty-six years old, five-eleven, dark hair, wearing a dark blue windbreaker. I have my weapon and am placing it on the front porch railing. The assailants’ guns are near the entryway to the kitchen, but out of reach should they regain consciousness. I’m opening the front door, and we’ll be standing on the front stoop, but I’ll still have the suspects in sight until help arrives.”

Benny emerged from the back wearing a lightweight windbreaker that was, thankfully, dark blue. He’d washed his hands and removed the blood that had dripped down his arm. Any remaining smears could be attributed to him treating her wound.

As they headed for the door, Benny pulled out his phone and called Devin.

Jordan glanced back at the scene. The henchmen had either passed out from blood loss or were dead, and the unconscious delivery driver lay near the door.

Since La Sombra was most definitely dead, she let her gaze linger on him last, and stopped when she saw the tattoo on his exposed forearm.

She’d seen that tattoo before, but her short circuiting brain refused to place it. He was dead anyway, so it wasn’t exactly urgent. They had other priorities now, including the sirens blasting from just down the street.