The Muscle Part Three by Michelle St. James

quietly as he could and stepped inside.
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    I sabel tapped her fingers on the steering wheel, her gaze straying to the gun on the console. She was surprised to find that it made her feel better. She’d never shot a gun before, but she knew now that she could do it — would do it — to save her sister.
    Or Luca.
    She looked through the windshield at the house farther down the street. The house holding the two people who mattered more to her than life itself.
    She looked at the gun again. She could go. She could peek through the windows or stand outside, waiting to see if they needed help.
    She shook her head. It would only be a distraction to Luca if he were to see her, and she needed all his focus to be on saving Sofia and getting out alive.
    She settled back into her seat with a sigh and continued tapping her fingers.
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    L uca stepped onto a peeling linoleum floor and followed the sound of the TV to a room at the front of the house. He stopped outside the living room, instinctively raising his weapon when a figure moved into the shadows beyond the room.
    He lowered it when he realized the man was Farrell.
    He dared a glance around the door frame into the room and saw the back of someone’s head — dark hair, a little long — on the sofa. He leaned out and pointed to Farrell, then into the room. Then he pointed to himself and the long hall leading to the bedrooms.
    Farrell nodded and moved into position while Luca headed down the hall. The sound of the TV grew fainter as he got farther away from the living room. There were five doors — three on one side of the hall and two on the other. One of them was open — a bathroom. The others were closed.
    Bedrooms, he guessed. But which one was Sofia in?
    He slowly turned the knob of the first one, then raised his weapon as the door swung open.
    Empty.
    He kept his breathing steady as he moved down the hall, stepping carefully on the linoleum, trying not to make any noise. When he got to the next bedroom, he reached out and slowly tried the knob.
    Locked.
    Fuck.
    Now he’d have to make some noise. He wished they’d thought to use communications equipment so he could warn Farrell, but they’d been expecting more cooperation from Diego in getting them to Sofia. He’d have to kick down the door and trust that Farrell knew what to do from there. He counted down to three in his head, then gave the floor a kick hard enough to send it flying open on the first try.
    The room was dimly lit by one small lamp on the bedside table. It looked empty at first, but a moment later he heard a whimper from the other side of the stained, bare mattress. He kept his gun up, just in case, but when he rounded the end of the bed, he saw Sofia up against the corner, clutching the stuffed animal he’d seen in the video, eyes wide with terror. He wanted to soothe her, but he needed to keep them both alive first and foremost.
    “Is anyone else in this room?” he asked her.
    She hesitated, shook her head, then pointed behind him.
    It was almost too late. He was still turning to look when the first bullet flew over his head. He dove to the floor, crawling toward Sofia as more gunfire erupted around him. But it wasn’t just from the hall outside the bedroom, it was from the front of the house, too, which meant Farrell was dealing with the first man.
    He crawled to Sofia, and covered her body with his own. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. I’m going to get you back to Isa. Just stay down until I say to move.”
    As soon as the gunfire paused, he rose from the floor and returned fire just in time to see Eduardo duck behind the door jamb in the hall.
    That fucker.
    He fired anyway, just to keep him from entering the room. He was surprised when his fire wasn’t returned, but a few seconds lated he heard gunfire from the front yard, and then he understood.
    Farrell had dealt with the first man and come after Eduardo in the hall.
    Eduardo was on the run.
    He scooped Sofia into his arms. She was