Duke: Alpha One Security: Book 3 by Jasinda Wilder

Author:Jasinda Wilder [Wilder, Jasinda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-12-06T18:30:00+00:00

7: YOU DON’T KNOW SHIT

Well…fuck.

Again.

I felt myself coming to, but this time it happened all at once, and in a blinding flash of pain. Then I was hit with the sudden realization that I was upside down, and that something was wrong.

Everything was wrong, but something big and important and specific was very, very wrong.

I forced my eyes open, struggling to focus past the crushing pain in my skull and the blood rushing to my head and the blood dripping down my chin and into my eyes and off my nose. Glancing to my right, I could see Temple, dangling limp, suspended by her seatbelt, passed out. She was a mess. Blood was matted in her hair from a cut along her hairline and another dripping slice across her chest, right across that perfect cleavage of hers.

What happened?

I was in pain, but nothing felt too fucked up. A headache, whiplash, aches and bruises—

I glanced to the left, out the window. We’d been knockoff the highway and had rolled down a steep embankment, through a fence, and were upside down in a field. This was the middle of nowhere, a desolate stretch of highway that saw little traffic, which made it not an accident.

Confirming my suspicions I saw, a quarter mile away, the hoods of two big black Wranglers parked side by side, angled in toward each other. They were kitted for off-road duty with big knobby tires, heavy duty brush guards, LED light bars, winches, and snorkels. Each Jeep was in the process of disgorging four men each armed with HK MP5s, and what looked like body armor. They were walking, single file, in our direction in a neat, precise line, all eight of them. Submachine guns up, butts to shoulders, laser sights on me.

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.

I braced my hand against the roof below me, and popped open the seatbelt buckle. I toppled clumsily to the floor…ceiling, whatever. The shotgun, thank god, had stayed in the vehicle with me, so I grabbed that and tossed it out the window on the opposite side of the car. Positioning myself beneath Temple, I unbuckled her, caught her as best I could, which meant letting her lower half hit the floor/ceiling and catching her head and shoulders with one arm. I checked for shards of glass in the shattered passenger window, kicked out a few remaining jagged spots, heaved Temple’s limp weight out as far as I could, then scrambled out the rear window, already broken in the previous firefight. I pulled Temple the rest of the way out, and left her passed out behind the crumpled wreckage of the SUV. Peeking over the Tahoe, I could see that the mercenaries were only a couple hundred feet away.

I snagged the strap of the Mossberg, leaned into the trunk compartment and snagged a box of shells and one of the AR-15s. I dumped the shotgun shells in a pocket, tossed the box aside, and pumped the charging handle of the AR-15. Checked the magazine—full.

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