Page 111 of Ricochet

What the fuck?

I couldn’t move my head, but my hand had been released, and I raised it to my forehead in an attempt undo to the bindings there. A deep gash along my index finger exposed the bone, but I ignored it, and using my other working fingers, I pushed off the leather strap and went to work on untying my left hand.

Gunfire reverberated through the building. My body flinched with each thunderclap that bounced off the walls, as bullets pinged off the metal all around me. A clink hit the mill, and my muscles seized as the bullet deflected.

A gunfight had broken out, and I lay helplessly fucking strapped to the machine.

With a useless index finger, and the sprawling numbness, working the knot free with one hand proved difficult. I couldn’t lift my head for fear of stabbing myself with the drill above me. Digging my fingers into the thick weave of the knot, I slipped, unable to slacken the loop.

“C’mon!” Frustration wound in my gut the longer I toyed with it, my hands still trembling from both the torture and the explosion a minute ago. Gasoline burned my nose and the smell of gun smoke filled the room, like firecrackers on the fourth of July.

Seconds ticked by, and the gunfire lessened, until two guns dueled back and forth with lengthy pauses in between.

One final shot, and the room fell to an eerie silence.

Abandoning my work at the knot, I rolled my head back, looking for signs of activity with the world turned upside down. A patrol car sat in the middle of the opened floor. It must’ve crashed through the rolling door of the loading dock. In the driver’s seat, I could barely make out the figure of a man slumped over, a black mask covering his face. The same mask I wore.

Tinkering at my ankle had my head snapping downward.

Aubree stood, untying my binds, an AK-47 strapped to her arm—perhaps the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.

Relief and anger pounded through my body, as it occurred to me she was the only other person in the room with a pulse.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I rolled my head around again, taking in the body count lying in pools of blood all around me. “And did you just take out four gangstas in a matter of minutes?”

A smile lifted the corner of her mouth as she freed my right leg and tossed the rope onto my body. “Did I forget to tell you? I know how to use a gun. My dad taught me. Shot a thirty aught six at five years old. At targets, mostly.”

“You’re a damn good shot.” My attention turned back on my bound wrist. “Any chance you could work on my arm? It’s that … gravity thing.”

The smirk turned into a full-blown smile, but it quickly disappeared when she lifted her gun, aiming like a goddamn ninja sniper, and shot at something behind me.

I craned my neck to see yet another body crumpled to the floor. “You, uh … want tell me what the fuck is going on here?”

“Later.” Still toiling away at my binds, her brows pinched together, a whole lot of pain clouding her eyes. “I’ve never killed anyone before. I’m trying not to think too much about it right now.”

Within minutes, all four of my limbs were freed, and I slid out from beneath the drill, cradling my mangled hand for a moment as she rounded the machine and strode up to me. A blow to my cheek knocked my head to the side. I turned back to her in complete and utter fucking confusion.

“That’s for drugging me again.” Gripping my nape, she pulled me to her face and crushed her lips to mine, her tongue darting into my mouth. “That’s for leaving the gun on the nightstand.”

“You wanna ditch this party and find a dark corner somewhere?”

“I want to find Michael.”

A tearing sound drew my attention downward, to where she tore away part of my shirt and wrapped my hand tight. “If you’re so good at being badass, how did you remain a prisoner all those years?”

“Asshole never gave me a gun.” She made a final knot, pinching the flow of blood from the wound. “I’m not so hot with hand to hand fighting, so you’re gonna have to watch my ass.”

My brow kicked up at that.

“Let’s go find this bastard and end him.”

I gripped her arm. “Aubree, I can’t let you get hurt in this. I’ll find him. I’ll end him.”

She rolled her eyes, tugging her wrist. “Not happening.”

“I’m serious.” My grip tightened around her forearm. “No fucking around.”

She twisted her wrist, wrenching her arm free. “I’ll be fine.”