for a second, a rush of simultaneous hot-and-cold electricity licked all over her body.
“We weren't planning on flying, boys,” the masked gunman purred. Stella's eyes widened as her ears caught the sound of a roaring engine in the distance. Instantly, her body jerked, her legs kicking out as she attempted to wrench her arms from the two men.
“Hold her still!” Someone roared as her abductors struggled against her sudden influx of struggles.
The group drew close to Stella, everyone intending to grab onto a part of her. Their second-long distraction was enough to for the Seven Tribesmen to advance. Near the entrance of the parking lot, a dark blue van barreled over the gravel.
Bishop charged at the group, his fist slamming into the gunman's face while his attention was diverted. The man jolted and went to swing his pistol into Bishop. A kick from Coyote's boot sent the gun slamming to the ground, discharging the chamber. The masked gunman hissed an obscenity, his hand procuring a switchblade from seemingly mid-air. He jabbed at Bishop, who grabbed the man forcefully by the arm and slammed it back at an awkward angle. A crack thundered through the air, followed by a howl of pain.
Gun shots rang out, pinging against the vehicles in the lot. Glass cracked and shattered, metal reverberated as bullets struck it solidly, rubber tore and tires screeched. Everything exploded into chaos, roaring metal, battle cries. The sounds of a brawl – flesh slamming across flesh, grunts, groans, cusses – weaved through the air. Chaos and confusion filled her eyes, losing sight of Bishop among the bodies.
Stella screamed, heaving forward to duck down as bullets and fists flew. Her captors still held tight, bruising her arms with their vice-like hold. They began to drag her backwards, to where the van rumbled over the gravel.
A yowl lit through the air, and a body fell heavily to the ground. One of her abductors stiffened before releasing Stella and whipping out his own gun from his waistband. He charged into the fray, spitting obscenities as he popped off two shots. The single abductor got his wits about him before Stella managed to wriggle free. He looped both arms around her middle, pinning her arms to her sides.
“No!” The woman screamed, her heels dragged against the rocks. She craned her neck, attempting to bite the man anywhere. She raised her legs up, using her whole mass as dead weight. The man grunted and heaved the woman along, ignoring all of her attempts to break free.
Stella's scream drove Bishop further. His knuckles smashed into faces and ribs. Bones cracked beneath his hands as he fought to protect not just himself, but his club and – hopefully – the agent. The thought swarmed his consciousness, and thrust him further and further in the throng of assailants.
She heard a van door slide open and another car door click open. Unless the van was automated, there were at least two more people to fend off. Stella swallowed heavily at that thought as her actions became more desperate, more violent.
The clambering of boots onto the van stilled her captor. Together, Stella and the man craned their necks to see the Seven Tribesmen member with the pool cue inside the van, slamming the wooden pole into the back of the driver's head. The driver's head slapped against the steering column, blood gushing from his nose. Newb spun around on his heel, slicing the cue through the air. The other man on the van caught the cue by the end, struggling to gain control of the weapon.
Hope clawed up Stella's throat. She slammed her heel into her captor's groin. A yowl of pain erupted from the man and she broke out of his hold. She didn't get far before his foot slammed into her back, toppling her to the ground.
At the same time, a gunshot rang out from the van and the sound of a body thumping to the van's floor. Bishop's head snapped up, his eyes widening as he watched Newb fall
“We weren't planning on flying, boys,” the masked gunman purred. Stella's eyes widened as her ears caught the sound of a roaring engine in the distance. Instantly, her body jerked, her legs kicking out as she attempted to wrench her arms from the two men.
“Hold her still!” Someone roared as her abductors struggled against her sudden influx of struggles.
The group drew close to Stella, everyone intending to grab onto a part of her. Their second-long distraction was enough to for the Seven Tribesmen to advance. Near the entrance of the parking lot, a dark blue van barreled over the gravel.
Bishop charged at the group, his fist slamming into the gunman's face while his attention was diverted. The man jolted and went to swing his pistol into Bishop. A kick from Coyote's boot sent the gun slamming to the ground, discharging the chamber. The masked gunman hissed an obscenity, his hand procuring a switchblade from seemingly mid-air. He jabbed at Bishop, who grabbed the man forcefully by the arm and slammed it back at an awkward angle. A crack thundered through the air, followed by a howl of pain.
Gun shots rang out, pinging against the vehicles in the lot. Glass cracked and shattered, metal reverberated as bullets struck it solidly, rubber tore and tires screeched. Everything exploded into chaos, roaring metal, battle cries. The sounds of a brawl – flesh slamming across flesh, grunts, groans, cusses – weaved through the air. Chaos and confusion filled her eyes, losing sight of Bishop among the bodies.
Stella screamed, heaving forward to duck down as bullets and fists flew. Her captors still held tight, bruising her arms with their vice-like hold. They began to drag her backwards, to where the van rumbled over the gravel.
A yowl lit through the air, and a body fell heavily to the ground. One of her abductors stiffened before releasing Stella and whipping out his own gun from his waistband. He charged into the fray, spitting obscenities as he popped off two shots. The single abductor got his wits about him before Stella managed to wriggle free. He looped both arms around her middle, pinning her arms to her sides.
“No!” The woman screamed, her heels dragged against the rocks. She craned her neck, attempting to bite the man anywhere. She raised her legs up, using her whole mass as dead weight. The man grunted and heaved the woman along, ignoring all of her attempts to break free.
Stella's scream drove Bishop further. His knuckles smashed into faces and ribs. Bones cracked beneath his hands as he fought to protect not just himself, but his club and – hopefully – the agent. The thought swarmed his consciousness, and thrust him further and further in the throng of assailants.
She heard a van door slide open and another car door click open. Unless the van was automated, there were at least two more people to fend off. Stella swallowed heavily at that thought as her actions became more desperate, more violent.
The clambering of boots onto the van stilled her captor. Together, Stella and the man craned their necks to see the Seven Tribesmen member with the pool cue inside the van, slamming the wooden pole into the back of the driver's head. The driver's head slapped against the steering column, blood gushing from his nose. Newb spun around on his heel, slicing the cue through the air. The other man on the van caught the cue by the end, struggling to gain control of the weapon.
Hope clawed up Stella's throat. She slammed her heel into her captor's groin. A yowl of pain erupted from the man and she broke out of his hold. She didn't get far before his foot slammed into her back, toppling her to the ground.
At the same time, a gunshot rang out from the van and the sound of a body thumping to the van's floor. Bishop's head snapped up, his eyes widening as he watched Newb fall
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