right, she let him tug her forward and together they sprinted. They ran past sculptures and priceless works of art, glass cabinets showcasing rare pieces of ancient jewellery and weapons of war. She ignored them all, focused purely on their escape.
“Halt!” a deep voice boomed from in front of them. Chelsea sighed, knowing it would have been too much to hope that they wouldn’t be confronted. David stood beside her, his gun raised. Their shoulders pressed together as they faced off against the four men.
“Lower your weapons,” the guard insisted.
“We can’t do that, mate,” David replied coolly.
Chelsea remained silent, assessing the four security men. Two appeared hardened, determined. She was shocked that they had guns. Part of her mind decided they must be some of the newer recruits after the false alarm this morning. Mercenaries, perhaps. Their postures and shooting stance indicated they’d been in the military.
They’d be problematic.
The other two were younger, clearly new to the job, and possibly in their first confrontation. Neither held weapons, only batons. Unless directly confronted in close quarters Chelsea didn’t see either man being a problem.
It rubbed her the wrong way to kill or seriously injure such men. They were all merely doing their job, responding to a breech in security. She and David were doing their jobs, trying to fight the good fight, but she couldn’t find it in her to kill these men.
“Lower your weapons or you’ll force our hands,” one of the military men snapped out insistently.
“Older guy’s thighs,” Chelsea whispered to David. There was a pause of about a second while he seemed to think about her request. Then with a single nod of his head they both fired.
Chelsea started with one of the more seasoned men. She shot once, catching her target in the upper thigh on her second round. It was undoubtedly painful, but in the fleshy part of his leg. While the wound bled, it didn’t gush and she breathed a sigh of relief.
He went down with a grunt, hit, but nothing vital or not easily repaired. David had only needed the one shot. Both the military men were on the floor, effectively disarmed. Both the younger guards had instantly raised their hands in the global gesture of surrender the moment they’d fired.
David waved his gun, indicating for the men to step aside, which they did with haste.
“Throw your communications into the corner over here,” David shouted harshly. “Walkie-talkies, earpieces, the lot. Now, or the next lot won’t be in your thighs.”
There was a pregnant pause. David and Chelsea simultaneously cocked their weapons, the sound echoing clearly across the room. The other men obeyed, the equipment hitting the parquet floor with a clank.
David and Chelsea edged around the chamber, placing as much distance as possible between themselves and the guards. David dropped and picked up some of the units in a quick motion. Just as they reached the doorway another shot rang out. Chelsea’s heart leapt to her throat, fear pounding in her veins.
One of the ex-military men had lifted himself onto his shoulder, his face twisted in pain and his black pants soaked with wetness. His gun was lifted and directed at David. Her shoulder was grabbed, David held her tightly. He growled in her ear.
“Run, now!”
Chelsea reached out her free hand and gripped David’s shirt, refusing to let him go.
“How bad are you?” she snapped out, fear causing adrenaline to surge and her tone to sound far harsher than she intended. They both ran full tilt for the front entrance and escape.
“What?” David said, his attention clearly diverted. “Just hold on, we’re almost there.”
Everything became confusing. Chelsea felt that she was missing something. David’s words didn’t make sense to her. Was he delirious?
Puffing now, she was surprised how draining she found their run, coupled with the fear and heart-pounding surge of adrenaline.
The columns of the
“Halt!” a deep voice boomed from in front of them. Chelsea sighed, knowing it would have been too much to hope that they wouldn’t be confronted. David stood beside her, his gun raised. Their shoulders pressed together as they faced off against the four men.
“Lower your weapons,” the guard insisted.
“We can’t do that, mate,” David replied coolly.
Chelsea remained silent, assessing the four security men. Two appeared hardened, determined. She was shocked that they had guns. Part of her mind decided they must be some of the newer recruits after the false alarm this morning. Mercenaries, perhaps. Their postures and shooting stance indicated they’d been in the military.
They’d be problematic.
The other two were younger, clearly new to the job, and possibly in their first confrontation. Neither held weapons, only batons. Unless directly confronted in close quarters Chelsea didn’t see either man being a problem.
It rubbed her the wrong way to kill or seriously injure such men. They were all merely doing their job, responding to a breech in security. She and David were doing their jobs, trying to fight the good fight, but she couldn’t find it in her to kill these men.
“Lower your weapons or you’ll force our hands,” one of the military men snapped out insistently.
“Older guy’s thighs,” Chelsea whispered to David. There was a pause of about a second while he seemed to think about her request. Then with a single nod of his head they both fired.
Chelsea started with one of the more seasoned men. She shot once, catching her target in the upper thigh on her second round. It was undoubtedly painful, but in the fleshy part of his leg. While the wound bled, it didn’t gush and she breathed a sigh of relief.
He went down with a grunt, hit, but nothing vital or not easily repaired. David had only needed the one shot. Both the military men were on the floor, effectively disarmed. Both the younger guards had instantly raised their hands in the global gesture of surrender the moment they’d fired.
David waved his gun, indicating for the men to step aside, which they did with haste.
“Throw your communications into the corner over here,” David shouted harshly. “Walkie-talkies, earpieces, the lot. Now, or the next lot won’t be in your thighs.”
There was a pregnant pause. David and Chelsea simultaneously cocked their weapons, the sound echoing clearly across the room. The other men obeyed, the equipment hitting the parquet floor with a clank.
David and Chelsea edged around the chamber, placing as much distance as possible between themselves and the guards. David dropped and picked up some of the units in a quick motion. Just as they reached the doorway another shot rang out. Chelsea’s heart leapt to her throat, fear pounding in her veins.
One of the ex-military men had lifted himself onto his shoulder, his face twisted in pain and his black pants soaked with wetness. His gun was lifted and directed at David. Her shoulder was grabbed, David held her tightly. He growled in her ear.
“Run, now!”
Chelsea reached out her free hand and gripped David’s shirt, refusing to let him go.
“How bad are you?” she snapped out, fear causing adrenaline to surge and her tone to sound far harsher than she intended. They both ran full tilt for the front entrance and escape.
“What?” David said, his attention clearly diverted. “Just hold on, we’re almost there.”
Everything became confusing. Chelsea felt that she was missing something. David’s words didn’t make sense to her. Was he delirious?
Puffing now, she was surprised how draining she found their run, coupled with the fear and heart-pounding surge of adrenaline.
The columns of the
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