Locked and Loaded. HelenKay Dimon
only enough to get an unobstructed view of her house, when the snapping of a twig registered in her brain. A green light sliced across her yard to land on her stomach. Shock stopped her steps.
“Get down!”
Adam’s voice barely registered. She saw his eyes widen and his mouth open on a shout. Everything else moved in slow motion. A figured appeared in front of her, clad all in black and aiming a weapon right at her head. She tried to see his face, but a helmet and mask covered him.
Her brain clicked to life just as a huge weight knocked into her from behind. Her knees buckled and the ground inched closer. Arms wrapped around her chest, banding and confining her, half cushioning her fall and half pushing her deeper into the dirt.
The thud and bounce against the hard earth pushed a grunt up her throat as her bones rattled. Every muscle screamed in agony from the force of the fall.
Her legs wrapped around something and kept her locked in a deadman’s position. The shove could have taken five seconds or five days. She couldn’t tell. Time slowed until the whoosh of the air around her became a moaning call.
That fast the weight lifted. One minute she saw the attacker stalking toward her, the next her face pressed into Adam’s back. Flat on her stomach with leaves scratching her cheek, she found her body shielded by Adam as soft pings echoed around her. His body kicked back against her as he fired his weapon.
She lifted her head in time to see the commando at her back door drop to his knees then fall face-first down the short steps. He hit the bush she’d always hated and meant to remove. Another man lay off to her right, facedown. She hadn’t even seen that one coming.
Then the world stopped tilting. She dared to hope they were safe. “Is it over?”
“Not for you.” The stranger’s voice came from behind her.
Before she could turn around, a beefy hand grabbed her arm and yanked her hard to her feet. Her muscles seemed to tear as if she were made of paper. Blinding pain shot up to her shoulder and pounded there.
The pressure of the attacker’s hand on her elbow made her vision blur. Nausea rolled over her, but she bit it back. She wanted to reach up and slap the man’s gun away. It hovered right in front of her face, pointed at the dead center of Adam’s chest.
Adam stood now, facing down the remaining gunman with his own weapon drawn. It was a standoff and suddenly it hurt just to stay on her feet.
“Let her go.” Adam’s voice dipped to a gravelly octave she’d never heard before.
A dark covering hid the gunman’s face, but she could see the white teeth in his feral smile. “You messed up. You only counted two.”
Adam’s gaze never wavered. He stared the attacker down, looking every bit as terrifying as the man in battle gear. “I’m guessing there were three of you.”
“Lower your weapon or I’ll kill her.”
“No.”
The pain took her breath away as the dizziness assaulted her brain. “Adam—”
The attacker chuckled in a deep grumble that promised an unending nightmare of anguish. “Listen to her panic. Now imagine what I’ll do to her before she dies.”
“You need her alive.”
“We’re not negotiating.”
She tried to focus on Adam, to send him a silent message that she was about to drop. But every time she blinked he shifted. It was subtle and the move so slight, but he now stood off to the left instead of directly in front of her.
And he kept talking. “That’s the plan, right? You need to take her back to your boss.”
“You don’t have to worry about it since you’ll be dead.”
Adam shook his head, then shot the attacker a patronizing grin. “No.”
She felt the gunman jerk. “What?”
Adam’s smile grew wider. “Your turn.”
“What are you—” With the gun blast the question turned to a gurgle. Blood spurted out of the man’s neck as his hands dropped and his body fell right after.
Shock and disgust knocked her speechless. Not that this was her first body or even her first bloodbath. No, she’d earned her ticket into witness protection the hard way, through the deaths of others. Still, she stood there held together by nothing more than a bit of adrenaline and watched the red puddle inch closer to her once white sneakers.
Adam reached out but didn’t touch her. “Maddie?”
“You could have killed me by accident.”
“I’ve got good aim.” Adam glanced around. “I think we’re clear here.”
Anger flooded through her and exploded, spewing with enough strength to break her. She clenched her jaw to keep from screaming him deaf. “You are supposed to be a computer guy.”
“Sometimes I am.”
His shrug just made her more furious. “What are you the rest of the time?”
“An agent with the Recovery Project.”
“What the heck is that?”
“I work for Rod Lehman.”
Just like that her anger evaporated. Melted right out of her. “Rod?”
“There are three things you need to know right now. Ready?” He didn’t wait for a reply. “Rod’s missing. You’re in trouble. We have to go.”
The pieces floated around in her mind, but she couldn’t put them together. “I don’t—”
“But first I have to fix your shoulder.” Adam tucked his gun in his waistband. “This is going to hurt.”
“What is?”
Before she could pull back or process what he planned to do, he bent her elbow at a ninety-degree angle then rotated her arm to the left then right. Each movement shot red-hot pain through her body. She cried out for him to stop as tears filled her eyes. When she couldn’t take one more turn, something popped in her shoulder and the ruthless agony stopped.
She tried to catch her breath, but she could only pant and glare as she rubbed the spreading soreness. “What was that?”
“I fixed your dislocated shoulder.”
She thought about strangling him with her good arm. “You killed two men—”
“Three.”
She shifted to her right and glanced around him. The third body lay just feet away from the spot where Adam had curled up around her on the ground.
She stared at him again. “Were you shot?”
He looked offended by the question. “Of course not.”
Massaging her injured shoulder made it throb even harder, so she stopped. “Right. How silly of me.”
“And it’s Wright.”
She looked him over for signs of blood, wondering how a guy could take out three obviously trained killers and not suffer anything more than a wrinkled shirt. “Do you have a head injury or something?”
“The name is Adam Wright, not Wallace.”
That little tidbit ticked her off. “And I’m just supposed to believe you?”
“Yes.”
Her fury was ridiculous. She knew that. She lived under an assumed name with a life she never wanted and certainly didn’t earn. She had no right to judge him. But now she understood she couldn’t trust him and that ticked her off. He’d taken out a trio of guys with guns, but she still didn’t know who was on what side.
And