Beyond the Breaking Point - Lori Sjoberg Page 0,110

he gripped the rim of one of the metal garbage cans at the curb and hurled it at the men from the car. A satisfying thud filled the air as the can flattened two guys and sent the others scattering. Wade spun to the left, drew his pistol from the waistband of his jeans, and dropped the thugs who’d been tailing them. He ducked behind the corner as one of the other men opened fire, and bullets ricocheted off the wall he’d stood in front of a second ago.

The sound of retreating footsteps down the alley was music to his ears.

More shots, the rapid fire of an automatic weapon, and plumes of concrete dust kicked into the air. Wade heard movement around the corner; he grabbed the barrel of a gun as it came into view, the hard yank throwing its owner off-balance. A punch, two bullets, and the man fell lifeless to the ground.

Three down, three to go.

Scratch that—another car screeched to a stop at the curb, and four more men poured out.

Peeking around the corner, Wade fired several rounds that sent men diving for cover behind one of the cars. Running low on ammo, he reached into his back pocket, only to realize he hadn’t bothered to carry an extra clip today.

Wade snatched the dead man’s gun and retreated farther into the alley, checking each door as he passed, but all of them were locked. He took a half step back and kicked the last door with everything he had, and the wood cracked away from the frame. Another kick and the door flew open as bullets rained from the entrance of the alley.

Pain tore through his right leg as he staggered into the building. Glancing down, he cursed—bullet to the thigh, though the wound didn’t look too bad. Putting weight on it hurt like a motherfucker, but it wasn’t as if he had a hell of a lot of choice in the matter.

Teeth gritted, he raced across what looked like a stock room, the crudely built wooden shelves packed with boxes of assorted sizes. At the exit, he switched off the lights and crouched by the doorway, his pulse pounding in his ears.

In the darkness, he willed his breathing to steady as he listened to the pound of approaching footsteps. Moments later, three men charged into the room, their gun muzzles flashing in the dark as bullets sprayed the walls. Still in a crouch, Wade returned fire, hitting one in the neck, another in the chest, while the third hid behind a shelf.

More men stormed the room, forcing Wade to retreat into what appeared to be a small grocery store. Bullets flew all over the damn place as he exchanged gunfire with his attackers. Two customers screamed and dove for safety, while an elderly woman at the register disappeared behind the counter.

The gun Wade had taken from the dead man clicked empty, and he threw it at the shooter closest to him, smacking him upside the head. Wade drew his other gun, put a bullet in the man’s chest, and then fired two rounds to drop another guy who’d pointed his gun at Wade.

He checked the clip; only two bullets left. If his count was correct, there were three more men to contend with.

No sooner had the thought entered his mind when a man barreled around the corner, armed with an automatic rifle. Wade grabbed the weapon and yanked to the right, slamming the man into a drink display and spilling cans all over the floor.

The gun went off; bullets tore into the ceiling, knocking out a row of lights and sending down a shower of debris. Kicking and shoving, they fought for control of the rifle. Using size and strength to his advantage, Wade flipped the man over his shoulder and against a row of metal shelves filled with baked goods. The impact knocked the man’s breath from his lungs, and before he had a chance to recover, Wade gripped his head with both hands and twisted hard until he heard the crunch of bone.

As he paused to catch his breath, Wade took stock of the situation. Aside from the bullet wound to his leg, most of his injuries consisted of superficial scrapes and bruises. Not too bad, and now, thanks to the guy he just killed, he was armed with an automatic weapon.

For the first time since this clusterfuck started, he was beginning to think he might actually make it out of this alive. All