Full Throttle(27)
He came for me! I knew he would!
“Not r-really,” she told him, her tongue still thick. “B-but I’ll l-live.”
“That’s my girl.” And as if the wink wasn’t crazy enough, now he had to gall to flash that smile of his. It deepened the dimple in his left cheek, the one she’d always thought was sweet enough to launch a thousand lady boners—it’d certainly launched a thousand of hers and—
Son of a silverback gorilla! Get it together, Abby! You’re not out of trouble, yet!
And that was evidenced by the fact that Carlos, never taking the shiny edge of his blade away from Shadow Man’s throat—did it make her a heartless shrew to feel a zing of delight when she saw a drop of blood?—grabbed the syringe the terrorist had been seconds away from using on her. Shadow Man opened his mouth, probably to call to his compatriots, but in an instant, Carlos twisted his arm behind his back, wrenching it so hard the militant was forced to his tiptoes. Now, the tip of Carlos’s blade was digging into the corner of Shadow Man’s mouth.
“Ah-ah-ah,” he admonished. “Let’s not make things worse than they already are. You do understand English, don’t you, cabrón?”
Shadow Man nodded, his eyes swinging wildly. The fear in them was crystal clear and Abby wanted to yell, Right on! How does it feel to be the one taken hostage? You like that, you evil mothersucker? Seriously, if karma was real, Shadow Man was due a terrible case of genital warts. Of course, not only would so many words be impossible with her mostly useless tongue, but they’d also be a distraction Carlos didn’t need. She satisfied herself with simply watching the terrorist squirm.
And squirm he did. Especially when Carlos whispered in his ear. “That’s good that you understand me, pendejo. Because while I’m itching for a fight—Did I mention I have enough ammunition on me to kill you and your friends every day for the next ten years?—the truth is Abby here isn’t much accustomed to gunplay. So, I’ll save her ears and delicate sensibilities and simply give you a little taste of what you’ve been giving her.”
Moving quicker than a Venus flytrap snapping closed on an unsuspecting insect, Steady spun Shadow Man and plunged the syringe into the guy’s throat with so much force it was a wonder the needle didn’t break in half.
Huzzah! she silently cheered.
“And I’ll leave you with this warning,” Carlos continued as the militant sagged in his arms. “You try to come after Abby again, and I will kill you. That’s a promise. I’ll put you in the ground so fast you won’t have time to make your peace with Allah.”
Uh… can you say, wow?
Carefully, almost gently, he lowered Shadow Man to the dirt floor of the hut. Then he was by her side, using his knife to cut away her bonds. The blood returned to her hands and feet in a rush of pins and needles. And a second later, bliss…
Because she was pulled tight against Carlos’s chest and his strong arms were wrapped around her, making her feel safe for the first time in hours. Seriously, she was so happy to see him that had he not been holding her down, she may have levitated up to the hut’s grass ceiling. And maybe it was the elation that accounted for the hard shimmy-shake her numb body was now in the middle of completing.
“It’s okay, cariño,” he murmured in her ear, his breath moist against the side of her face. Man, he smelled good. Like native jasmine, faint aftershave, and the open road. Like health and heroics—if heroics had a smell, that is. Like everything strong and wonderful and capable. “It’s okay. I got you, now. I got you.”
He was rocking her back and forth, one of his big hands gently patting her back. She noticed something poking into her lower belly, about to cause her full bladder to burst wide open. “Is th-that an extra magazine in y-your pocket?” she asked. “Or are you j-just happy to see me?”
Carlos wrapped his hands around her shoulders and leaned back, staring at her with one dark brow raised. He reached into his hip pocket and pulled out an extra magazine. “Good to see that drug didn’t affect your winsome wit.”
“Figures about the clip,” she feigned a pout. “You always did consider me nothing more than a pesky kid sister.”
For a moment, he appeared startled and maybe a little bit…speculative? But then he shook his head. “Look, we’re working on a short clock here. This dickhead’s”—he hooked a thumb at Shadow Man’s inert form sprawled in the packed dirt—“friends are a few huts over in the middle of breakfast and distracted by some kind of Malaysian soap opera playing on an old tube television. But if he doesn’t return soon, they’ll send someone to check on him. We need to be long gone by then.”