Everything around him went silent and into slow motion. The door opened and three men ran in. He had the advantage of surprise on the first intruder and shot him straight in the chest. The impact caused him to stumble backward, and he crashed into the second intruder, who moved so quickly that the bullet Six fired at him went through his shoulder instead of his heart. The latter would have killed him, like his buddy, instantly, but it was enough of a strike to have him dropping down for cover. Before he could take aim at the third intruder, pain ripped through his side, the force of which jerked him sideways. The bullet didn't knock Six off his feet-gunshots rarely did-but he managed to keep hold of his gun as he pressed his hand to his wound. A second bullet hit the floor next to him, and Six scrambled around the corner. Footsteps told him that the guy he'd hit in the shoulder was on the move, likely going around the living space to come at him from the other side. There was no way he could help Lou if he was dead, so he pulled himself to his feet. He stared at a painting on his hallway wall. The streetlights outside of his home had caused it to be reflective, and in the glass he could see the third assailant, who was as yet uninjured, moving closer. Anticipating his next move, Six aimed his gun around the corner and fired four bullets in quick succession, feeling nothing but relief as he heard a body fall to the floor with a thud.
His side throbbed like an absolute bitch, and he could feel blood running down his leg, but he ignored both. Pain was fleeting, which he'd learned at BUD/S, and what he was fighting for, Lou's safety, was far more important.
Six turned to listen for the second assailant but was too late. He turned face-first into the barrel of a gun. His training fired to life and he pushed the barrel upward, gripping the assailant's hand and hearing the satisfying crack as he broke the guy's trigger finger. It was damn near impossible for a guy to make a kill shot when he couldn't fire his gun.
A gunshot rang out down the hallway, and he looked around for a fourth assailant. Shit, he'd screwed up. There must be someone else in the house. Another point of entry maybe. All he had to do was keep them alive long enough for the police to arrive. The man he'd been fighting slumped against the hallway wall and released his gun into Six's control as he slid to the ground. A red bloodstain smeared the old wallpaper.
"Did I kill him?" Louisa said, her voice shaking. She stood there in aqua pajamas and bright pink sneakers, gun in one hand, his phone in the other, a detail he took in as she looked right and screamed. A bullet missed her by inches, sending glass flying as it hit the mirror on the wall. "There are more of them," she yelled as she hurried toward him.
"Let's go," he yelled, quickly formulating a plan that involved getting out of the house. They were most certainly outnumbered, and he had no idea how many of them there actually were. If they left via the front door, they'd be exposed to anybody keeping watch outside. The garage might be safer if the three men they'd already dealt with were the only assailants, especially if they could get into the truck.
Gripping his gun, he reached for her hand as she crossed the distance between them. He hurried them through the kitchen, where he picked up his keys and wallet and she grabbed her purse and phone off the counter. They moved quickly over the two bodies in the kitchen and down the steps to the garage. Shot or not, he needed to get them out of there, and for the first time in his life, he felt fear. Not for him, but for Louisa. He pulled the truck door open and hurried her inside before racing to his side of the vehicle. Once inside, he raised the garage door and gunned the engine. In the rearview mirror, he saw two more men run out of the house and begin to fire at them.
"Duck," he ordered Louisa, relieved she did as he instructed immediately. She stood a better chance of not getting shot if she was protected by metal rather than glass. He could feel her fear and hear the way her breath was coming in nervous pants as the metallic ping of bullets hitting the truck reverberated around them. Panic wasn't going to help either of them.
He charged the truck out of the driveway, noticing the dark van parked on the opposite side of the street, and immediately took the first left he could. "Do you still have my phone?" he asked calmly as he looked behind them. A couple of men ran across the street and jumped into the other vehicle.
"Yes," she said.
"Okay, call Cabe. Tell him what happened, and tell him we are going to Eagle Securities. Tell him I'm shot."