Gabe (Special Forces - Operation Alpha) - Riley Edwards Page 0,84

an hour. Good news is, I made a ruckus and no one came in to check.”

“Okay. I need you to promise—”

“No, Gabe. No more promises.”

“Evette—”

“No,” I hissed. “Just no. I did what you asked. I didn’t watch. I kept my eyes closed and I didn’t see a damn thing. But I will not ever do that again. I won’t run and leave you behind. I won’t stay quiet. I know you feel it is your responsibility to protect me but I want you to understand something—it is just as much my responsibility as it is yours. We’re in this together. I’m the only team member you have right now and I will not ever leave you behind to save myself. So don’t ask me to promise you because I won’t do it.”

“Evette—”

“Don’t ask me to promise,” I snapped.

I wouldn’t have thought it was possible for Gabe’s face to turn cherry red under all that nasty bruising, yet right before my very eyes, his face turned a glowing ruby color.

The sound of the front door slamming cut off any further argument.

“What’s our plan?”

“Fight.”

“Um… you care to elaborate?” I scuffed.

“Fight like hell, honey. Swing your baton, kick, punch, scratch, bite, scream, spit, claw. Whatever you have to do—do it. Just keep fighting until you can get out the door. Then run like hell and don’t stop.”

“Gabe—”

“If I go down, there’s not a damn thing you’re gonna be able to do. The only way you can help me is to run until you find someone to help you.”

Okay. Shit. He was right. I couldn’t carry him over my shoulder to safety.

Punctured lung.

If that happened he could die.

He’d been shot, beaten, and lost blood.

We needed help.

“Okay. I can do this.”

“Yeah, honey, you can.”

I was lying. I’d never punched anyone in my whole life, but to help Gabe I’d find a way.

“Go by the door,” he told me. “When it opens, swing that as hard as you can at his head. And don’t forget the end is jagged; use that to stab and slice.”

Stab and slice.

Slice and stab.

Oh. My. God.

This was happening.

I scrambled to my feet, picked up my support bar that was seconding as a baton, and moved to the door. Gabe stood much slower than I did and I now understood why I was at the door and he wasn’t. He needed to get his bearings and if someone came in before his head stopped swimming he’d be useless to defend himself.

I didn’t want to think what it cost him by asking me to be his shield.

As I heard the footsteps coming down the hall all I thought was that I wasn’t going to let him down.

Gabe trusted me.

Those were my thoughts when the door opened and I swung with all my might.

Chapter 26

The dickhead who was beating on me grunted and stumbled back but Evette didn’t let up. Blow after blow landed on his head and face yet she kept going.

So fucking brave.

Acid flooded through my veins at the sight.

My gut churned and it had nothing to do with my concussion and every goddamn thing to do with my woman putting herself out there to protect me.

All fucking wrong.

So wrong that when the fury built I used it to push aside the pain and dizziness.

With more effort than it should’ve taken I pushed off the wall and two sets of combatants danced in front of me. One pair was Evette and Dickhead, the second pair a ghosted double.

“Stop!” I shouted and Evette stepped to the side as my fist connected to Dickhead’s jaw.

Searing, red-hot, pain reverberated up my arm, pausing to swirl around my gunshot wound, then it continued to travel to my ribs where, in case I’d forgotten, I was reminded my ribs were broken. I pushed past the nausea and landed a left hook. Dickhead wobbled back out of my reach and my beautiful, brave warrior slammed her metal club into the back of his head and Dickhead crumbled.

“Check him for a gun.”

Through a blur, I saw her kneel. Her hands moved over his prone body until she waved a handgun around in front of her.

Jesus Christ.

“Finger away from the trigger.”

“Right. Here, you want it?”

I reached out and she placed the gun in my hand. I didn’t need to see it to know it was a Glock. I didn’t bother checking the magazine because I wouldn’t have been able to concentrate on counting ammo without vomiting.

It was getting worse.

We had to go.

“Check to see if he has a wallet, phone,

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