about to apologize, he heard the sound. The snick of metal against metal on the door. Someone was trying to enter their room.
Without a thought, he half-turned to the woman tucked below him, catching her wide eyed stare from underneath him. God, she was beautiful.
"Bag. Bathroom. Now," he'd ordered as he pushed her with his left hand. His right hand was reaching underneath his pillow for his Glock 19, as he, too, rolled off to her side of the bed. As soon as his peripheral vision confirmed she was out of sight, he'd moved quickly, as silently as possible to the side of the door. His back to the wall, he braced a foot to increase his stability, watching as the door inched open. In the seconds between her leaving the room and the door bumping open, he wondered about their tactics.
Always by night, under the cover of darkness.
But not today and he could barely get his mind to accept it.
He knew the Milosevics inside and out. They had been his business for so long, had been under his microscope, studied, learned and absorbed. This daylight breach was not one of their known attack methods. Known or not, though, he still had to battle them. Protect her.
He heard a tickle of glass from back and behind him before, at the fissure of the door, he saw a gun lead an arm. He held his breath, shifting his body as he grabbed the exposed wrist and yanked. The hand released as soon as Brand's elbow caught the man full in the face before he twisted back to see the other man pause in the doorway.
Two.
In every instance before, the Milosevics only sent men in one at a time. This duo, at this time of day, was a new twist in Brand's on-going war with the people from his country who had settled in this new place. And who had, in just a few short years, established their own criminal hierarchy here in America just as they had in the land of his birth.
They'd killed his family. Raped his mother, sisters and female cousins in full view of the village back in the old country. Shot his father, grandfather and uncles at point blank range.
All in full view of the six year old version of him.
Then they'd murdered Nadia and her remaining family here in the new country that they'd tried to call home.
Including his unborn child.
To say that he hated them didn't give justice to the word.
And justice was all he wanted.
Knowing who they were, what they had done, he had no emotion as he turned to fully face the other man, whipping his gun to connect at the temple. The man began to drop and Brand helped him in to do so, catching the man's face with his knee, his elbow striking between his shoulder blades. Brand heard the squeal of tires from the car outside knowing the driver had seen the drop of the two bodies.
Grabbing their ankles, he pulled their heavy forms more fully inside the room, one at a time. He stood and shrugged to release some of the tension within him even as he moved to around the bed dressing quickly, snagging his own bag and draped it over his head.
He stuck his head in the bathroom, not surprised in the least at the blinking shards of glass that covered the vanity's countertop and floor.
She'd escaped, using the window as the only opening provided.
Brand closed the bathroom door and crossed the main portion of the room, stepping over the still breathing carcasses on the floor before making his way outside.
His body now in the small alley behind the motel, noted the broken window in the unit that had been theirs before he yanked on the dumpster and backed the bike out from behind it.
He smiled at the broken shards of glass seated in the grass hugging the stucco of the building as he stepped by. She'd gotten away.
So where was she?
She'd escaped, that much he'd figured out. But he had no indication, no inkling of where she'd gone to hide. He hit the ignition and rumbled to the far side of the parking lot, almost too wired from the residual adrenaline to think
Without a thought, he half-turned to the woman tucked below him, catching her wide eyed stare from underneath him. God, she was beautiful.
"Bag. Bathroom. Now," he'd ordered as he pushed her with his left hand. His right hand was reaching underneath his pillow for his Glock 19, as he, too, rolled off to her side of the bed. As soon as his peripheral vision confirmed she was out of sight, he'd moved quickly, as silently as possible to the side of the door. His back to the wall, he braced a foot to increase his stability, watching as the door inched open. In the seconds between her leaving the room and the door bumping open, he wondered about their tactics.
Always by night, under the cover of darkness.
But not today and he could barely get his mind to accept it.
He knew the Milosevics inside and out. They had been his business for so long, had been under his microscope, studied, learned and absorbed. This daylight breach was not one of their known attack methods. Known or not, though, he still had to battle them. Protect her.
He heard a tickle of glass from back and behind him before, at the fissure of the door, he saw a gun lead an arm. He held his breath, shifting his body as he grabbed the exposed wrist and yanked. The hand released as soon as Brand's elbow caught the man full in the face before he twisted back to see the other man pause in the doorway.
Two.
In every instance before, the Milosevics only sent men in one at a time. This duo, at this time of day, was a new twist in Brand's on-going war with the people from his country who had settled in this new place. And who had, in just a few short years, established their own criminal hierarchy here in America just as they had in the land of his birth.
They'd killed his family. Raped his mother, sisters and female cousins in full view of the village back in the old country. Shot his father, grandfather and uncles at point blank range.
All in full view of the six year old version of him.
Then they'd murdered Nadia and her remaining family here in the new country that they'd tried to call home.
Including his unborn child.
To say that he hated them didn't give justice to the word.
And justice was all he wanted.
Knowing who they were, what they had done, he had no emotion as he turned to fully face the other man, whipping his gun to connect at the temple. The man began to drop and Brand helped him in to do so, catching the man's face with his knee, his elbow striking between his shoulder blades. Brand heard the squeal of tires from the car outside knowing the driver had seen the drop of the two bodies.
Grabbing their ankles, he pulled their heavy forms more fully inside the room, one at a time. He stood and shrugged to release some of the tension within him even as he moved to around the bed dressing quickly, snagging his own bag and draped it over his head.
He stuck his head in the bathroom, not surprised in the least at the blinking shards of glass that covered the vanity's countertop and floor.
She'd escaped, using the window as the only opening provided.
Brand closed the bathroom door and crossed the main portion of the room, stepping over the still breathing carcasses on the floor before making his way outside.
His body now in the small alley behind the motel, noted the broken window in the unit that had been theirs before he yanked on the dumpster and backed the bike out from behind it.
He smiled at the broken shards of glass seated in the grass hugging the stucco of the building as he stepped by. She'd gotten away.
So where was she?
She'd escaped, that much he'd figured out. But he had no indication, no inkling of where she'd gone to hide. He hit the ignition and rumbled to the far side of the parking lot, almost too wired from the residual adrenaline to think
Similar Books
