That gets the others in motion, and in a matter of seconds, we’re right in the middle of a shootout. My heartbeat is just as loud in my ears as the gunshots, but I make myself focus. I’ve never done anything like this before. I grew up in a rough neighborhood, and my dad always taught me that if I heard gunshots, I should fucking sprint in the opposite direction.
But there’s no running away from this.
I’m right in the thick of it, and I have to be quick and on my guard.
Luckily, I’ve been training to be quick and on my guard for most of my life, so that part comes easily to me.
One of the Jackals runs at me, gun blazing, and I dodge to the side and trip him up, sending him sprawling to the ground. I dash away from him, moving to take cover behind another stack of abandoned wooden crates, and peer out in time to see him scrambling to his feet, only to get shot by Levi before he can do anything.
Rory engages with the other guy who was hurting Alex, trading shots with him from around a corner in the room. He leans out and fires three times, and the last two shots manage to take the guy down, even though he still seems to be alive.
Unfortunately, my momentary distraction allows another one of the Jackals to find me. I curse under my breath, pulling my gun up in time to fire first, while he’s still aiming for my crates. I miss the first shot, but then remember what Levi said about having a steady hand and let out a breath, trying to calm myself down.
Bullets fire into the crates near me, and I scramble back, watching the wood splinter. He aimed badly, a good three feet away from where I was, and I pop up quickly and take aim again, letting out four shots that mostly all hit.
He goes down with a groan, and Levi and Sloan take advantage of the chaos to go in and free Alex. Levi makes quick work of the ropes with a knife from his belt, and Sloan braces the sagging accountant with an arm around his waist.
“We’re out!” he yells, and that’s our cue to get the fuck out of here.
I glance around to make sure it’s safe enough, and make a run for it, sprinting toward the door with Rory and Levi not far behind.
There are only two or three of the Jackals left alive, and at least one of them is hurt too badly to be of any use anymore, so we’re hardly even pursued as we burst back through the hallway, still under a little bit of fire, and then out the back door and into the darkness of the night.
Sloan helps a hobbling Alex to the car and eases him into the front seat, while the rest of us pile into the back.
My adrenaline is still so high, and my hand shakes a little where I’m still gripping my gun tightly. I make myself release it, putting the safety back on so I don’t accidentally shoot myself with my nerves the way they are.
Sloan hops in the driver’s side and peels out with a squeal of tires, racing away from the building quickly.
“Everyone okay?” Levi asks.
“Just peachy,” Rory replies, shooting him a smile from where he sits in the back with his head tipped back against the headrest. “The day I let one of these Jackal assholes take me out is the day I… I don’t know. Die, I guess. But fuck that shit. I’m not done living.”
Levi snorts and turns to look at me, and I nod. I’m fine. Not hurt, just a little shaken up from being in my first gun fight like that.
“Anyone following?” Sloan asks, and I turn my head to look out the back window, squinting against the darkness to make sure I don’t see any headlights or anything. No one would be able to follow us on foot, at least.
“I don’t see anyone,” I report, surprised by how steady my voice sounds when the rest of me is practically vibrating.
Sloan nods in the rearview and then glances over at Alex. I lean up to check his condition myself. He’s barely conscious, slumped in the passenger seat. He’s breathing, and his eyelids flutter every now and then, proving he’s still alive. His skin looks clammy, and I can only imagine how much pain he has to be in.
I’m worried, but there’s relief there, too. We did it. We got him back. They might never get the money that the Jackals took back, but at least Alex can’t be used against the Black Roses now. That has to count for something.
6
We get Alex back to the house as quickly as we can, driving the long way around so that we don’t have to go back through Jackals territory, just in case they’re out looking for us.
“Are we sure we should be bringing him to the house?” I ask when we get close, worried that it seems like a good way to invite trouble we don’t really need.
But none of them seem all that concerned about it. Levi just shrugs. “It’s as good a place as any.”
It hits me as we pull into the garage that Alex is probably not considered a valuable enough target for the Jackals to risk openly attacking the home of the son of the head of the Black Roses. While they had him, they were willing to try to use him however they could, but now that he’s been taken, they probably won’t risk too much to get him back. That would be a pretty big declaration of war, more than likely, and grounds for Gavin and Sloan to retaliate in a big way. Bigger than the Jackals want, I’m sure.
And they still have most of the money they stole anyway, a massive haul that they wouldn’t have had otherwise. So really, they haven’t taken that much of a loss.
We get Alex inside, Sloan practically carrying him through the door at this point. Levi puts a blanket down on the couch and they lay Alex out on it, careful not to jostle him too much.
The florescent lighting of the building he was being held in made his injuries look garish and harsh, but they don’t look that much better now, even in the softer light of the living room.
His face is swelling, one eye already almost completely swollen shut. The edges of the gash on his cheek are ragged and dark, and the bruising seems to be getting darker as we stand here.
But Sloan gives him a once-over, checking for any hidden injuries we might have missed, and declares that Alex will live. He’s in pain and will probably be out of it for a good while, but none of his injuries are life threatening.
Whenever he shifts on the couch, he moans in pain, and my heart goes out to him.
“Broken fingers on the left hand,” Sloan says. “Possible concussion from that ham-fisted asshole hitting him so hard. Maybe a couple of cracked ribs. Aside from the broken bones, everything else is surface-level stuff.”
He pulls out his phone and makes a quick call, repeating all of that to the person on the other line, who I figure out quickly is someone who can come take a look at Alex and help him. Someone with more medical training than any of us have, hopefully. The broken fingers will need to be splinted or something so every time he tries to move they won’t just hurt him more.
While the guys talk downstairs, I slip away, going up to my room. I put the gun that I haven’t let go of since I pulled it out down on the top of the dresser, and peel off the vest that Levi put on me. I don’t remember taking any hits during the firefight, but I’m still very aware that the vest could have saved my life tonight.
All the same, I’m almost desperate to get it off of me.
The adrenaline that was pumping through me for most of the night is ebbing away, leaving the shaking remnants of the fear and the sickening memories of what I saw tonight.
I feel cold suddenly, and my stomach turns sharply, sending me running to the bathroom as fast as I can.