The single round punched into his upper chest, above his heart. His eyes enlarged, mouth open. He fell to the floor, palming the hole from the flat of his back. The blade clattered on the ground at his side.
“Where’s Anna and Cindy?” I asked, training the rifle at his head.
Stocky writhed on the floor, raking the heel of his shoes across the tile. I kicked the knife away from his hand.
“Go to hell.” He lifted his head from the floor.
“Wrong answer.” I mashed my foot on top of his hand so it covered the wound. He howled in pain, squirming under me and kicking his legs. “Tell me now, or so help—”
A blood curdling, feminine scream sounded from the open doors.
Stocky grabbed at my ankle. I kicked his hand away, then popped off two more rounds in his chest. The discomfort on his face waned. He ceased moving. His eyes remained open—glassy and staring at the ceiling.
I shouldered the rifle and continued on. I focused on the panicked screams as I moved down the next hallway. Broken pieces of vases crunched under my feet. The bullet-ridden paintings on the walls hung at angles.
The door up ahead shuddered, then swung open. Cindy bolted from the room, panting and looking over her shoulder. She tripped over her feet, falling to the floor. Two men rushed out of the room after her with pistols drawn.
She backed away with her hand in the air as she faced the armed men. They closed in, surrounding her. I opened fire, cutting both down where they stood. The rifle clicked empty as they hit the floor around Cindy.
She looked my way. The tangled strands of brown hair framed her flushed face. The naked fear lingering in her eyes and the tremble in her lips held firm.
I rushed to her side, helping her off the floor. She threw her arms around my neck, squeezing so tight I couldn’t breathe.
“Thank God you’re still alive,” Cindy said, relieved. “I thought they’d killed you.”
I discarded the spent rifle, and patted her back. “Not for lack of trying.”
Cindy took a step back, and cleared her throat. “What’s going on here?”
I stooped between the guards and took one of their Glocks. “Long story. We need to track down Anna. They were taking her to see the big boss man, Mr. McCone.”
Cindy brushed the hair away from her face, turned, then pointed down the hallway. “I think they took her that way. I heard a bunch of noise and shouting through the walls earlier.”
I ejected the magazine, looked it over, then slapped it back into the well. I racked the slide, then handed the pistol to Cindy. “Take it.”
“Um.” She glanced at the weapon, then to me. “I’m not so—”
“It’ll be fine.” I shoved the gun in her hand, retrieved the other piece, then stood up. “It’s ready to fire. All you need to do is point at any bad guys that try to kill us and shoot.”
The Glock trembled in her hand. She stared at the weapon, then looked up at me with an uncertain gaze.
I walked past her, then nodded down the hall. “Come on, just don’t shoot me.”
A frown formed on her face. She held the pistol loose in her hand and followed alongside me. We moved down the hallway, then around the bend.
The gunfire ebbed with only a few reports sounding. We skirted past both Domingo’s and McCone’s men lying on the floor.
Cindy stayed glued to my back, mimicking every move I made. I swept the hallways and open doors we passed for any armed men waiting for an easy target.
The wide hallway we traveled down had more dead bodies sprawled out on the floor. I studied each for movement and for Anna’s white coat, but didn’t spot her.
A loud crashing noise sounded from the end of hall, followed by barking. Shadow.
I trained the Glock in the direction of the ruckus. Cindy peered around my waist, the pistol down at her side.
Anna tumbled around the corner, rolling end over end. She got to her feet, brought the piece she wielded to bear, and fired off two rounds.
A thud hit the floor.
She swung toward us.
I put my hands in the air. “Whoa. It’s just us.”
Her chest heaved. The white coat was stained with splotches of blood. She lowered the piece, then exhaled. “Good to see the both of you are still alive.”
Shadow ran to her side, walking with a slight limp on her front leg. She circled Anna, then stared at us.
“I could say the same thing about—”
Gunfire popped off behind Cindy and me. I flinched. Cindy gasped.
A round caught the side of my arm as I turned around. It tore through the jacket, grazing the skin.
Cindy squeezed the trigger of her Glock, firing at the gunman stalking us down the hallway. He ducked.
The bullets zipped toward him. One found its mark in his shoulder and the other through his chest. He hit the ground—dead.
“Are you all right?” I asked, standing behind her.
Cindy dropped the Glock and kicked it away. “Yeah. I’m–” She looked away from the man she’d just killed, then brushed past me. I turned and walked to her side.
Anna met us halfway with Shadow beside her. Her bottom lip was swollen, and she had a cut across her cheek. “Domingo went after McCone. I killed Blondie and a few of his men when the shit hit the fan. Wasn’t pretty.”
Shadow panted hard and looked up at us.
“I see you found her.” I looked Shadow over, finding a portion of her fur above her front right leg wet with blood.
