Chapter 31: Escape from Sin City

I heard a wet cough and imagined Natashya on the floor, blood gurgling from her lips and painting the cold concrete floor in dark crimson. Fuck ... the last thing I wanted to do was have that image burned into my brain, but I couldn’t help myself. With my head turned away from the gruesome scene, I opened my eyes just enough to peer out of the corner and see ... something wholly unexpected.

The man holding the gun to Natashya’s was clutching his throat as blood spilled around his fingers and from the corners of his mouth. The gun dangled from one limp finger a moment longer before it slipped free and clattered across the floor. He dropped like a sack of potatoes, giving me a clear view of the doorway and the person who stood in it, gun pointed at the body of Natashya’s would-be killer. Chloe. She had an unarmed man a couple of inches taller than her in some kind of hold, the entire half of his lower face a bloody mess; one arm hung limply at his side.

I wasn’t the only one looking around in confusion. Two guards had been flanking their leader on the left and two on the right. While I was processing everything that had just happened, they were doing the same. One dropped to a knee beside his leader, and two began swinging their weapons around wildly. The remaining one was a touch quicker than the others. He turned his slick-bald head toward the door and brought his weapon to bear on the intruder.

Chloe reacted in the same moment, kicking the man she was holding and sending stumbling into Baldy. It momentarily prevented him from training his rifle on her as it got caught on the torso of the man thrown at him. The movement caught the attention of the other guards, who trained their weapons on my bodyguard, and she took a shot at the third guard who had been standing just to the right of his commander - a blonde man with close-cropped hair.

Blondie’s ear exploded in a geyser of pink mist as three of them opened fire at Chloe’s head just as she disappeared around the corner of the doorway. The gunshots were deafening in the mostly empty concrete storage room, and I could barely hear Natashya screaming as she dove to the ground, her hands over her head.

Baldy shoved Chloe’s victim aside so he could take precise aim, and the new, bloodied guard dove over Natashya’s prone form and on top of Leader’s body, scrambling for sidearm with his remaining functional arm. The woman with the glasses who stood off to the side threw her arms over her head and dashed away from the firefight, disappearing from view somewhere behind me. I heard her shout something I couldn’t quite make out, and the man who had wanted to kill me replied with something equally unintelligible.

The chair hung from my bloody wrists as I struggled to stand, unwilling to sit there and be collateral damage. None of them were paying any attention to me ... maybe I could get the drop on them or provide some sort of distraction to make it easier for Chloe. At the very least, I could dive on top of Natashya and give some kind of cover for her. She’d been through enough.

The four guards fired several more shots at the edge of the door and the wall next to it, shredding the metal frame where Chloe’s head had been only moments ago. Then, someone peered around the other side of the frame. Crouched low, Shea fired two rounds at the goon to the farthest right, who looked like the oldest of the bunch. She hit him in the thigh with the first shot and the side with the second one. Her head disappeared around the edge of the frame just before the remaining three mercenaries changed their focus on her.

The older merc dropped to a knee as he screamed out in pain, reflexively grabbing his leg as he cursed. Chloe peered around the door and fired a single shot, catching him above the left eyebrow and sending his lifeless body the rest of the way to the floor. At the same time, I saw Jon round the corner of Shea’s side of the door and put two bullets in Baldy’s chest before disappearing. Chloe ducked back as well. Three goons down. Two left. Well, two and a half if you counted the plus-one Chloe had brought to the party.

The plus-one rolled onto his back and sat halfway up with his gun trained at the door as Shea peeked around the corner. She took a bullet to the shoulder as she fired three shots, putting the half-dead man out of his misery. I had just managed to fully right myself and nearly toppled over out of concern when she’d been shot, but she merely vanished from sight, leaving a smear of blood on the doorframe where she’d been just moments ago. She disappeared just in time to miss a bullet that instead carved a chunk of concrete where she’d just been. Jon tried to peer around the same corner a second later and nearly got his head blown off, ducking back before he managed to fire a shot.

One ankle was still bound firmly to my chair leg, but I managed to shake the other one loose; the cuff had been latched to the underside of the chair’s stretcher instead of over it like the other, allowing it to slip free now that the entire thing hung a few inches off the ground as it dangled off my wrists. It wasn’t much, but at least I could semi-walk.

The first guard to the left, who appeared to have burn scars on his face, ran up to the wall next to the door, pressing himself flat against it while holding his rifle at the ready. Blondie, who’d been the one to nearly take Jon’s head off, backed up a couple of feet, crouched down, grabbed Natashya by the hair, and hauled her to her feet. He held her in front of him and pressed the barrel of the gun to her head. Natashya struggled against his grip until she felt the cold steel press into the side of her face. A half-scream-half-sob escaped her lips.

“Fucking drop it!” he demanded. “Drop your guns now, or I’ll kill the fucking bitch!”

“You kill her,” Chloe called out coldly, “and you won’t leave here alive.”

I stepped forward as quietly as possible, watching warily as the man pressed against the wall inched near the door. My wrists burned so badly I wanted to scream as the cold metal bit into my raw, bleeding flesh. I did my best to ignore it as I stepped forward until I was within a few feet of the man. I thought I’d lost Natashya; I wasn’t going to lose her again.

“You forgetting ab-”

I lept at the man and crashed into him, aiming for his gun in hopes that it would be enough to move the barrel away from Natashya. I felt my head slam into the gun as my body connected with his, and I let out a wordless yell that was drowned by the sound of gunfire as we both crashed to the floor.

With my hands still bound behind the chair, there wasn’t much else I could do at this point. I simply tried to wriggle my body on top of him and slam my head into his face. My first stroke caught him on his cheekbone; there was enough force behind my strike that I bounced his head off the concrete like a basketball. I heard more gunshots go off behind me, but all I could do was hope that they were from the good guys and not the bad guys.

Blondie kicked me off him and rolled on top of me as the fingers of one hand closed around my windpipe, and he began to squeeze. I flailed my one free leg, trying to knee him in the back ... doing anything to get him off me.

Then Natashya’s face appeared over his shoulder as her arms wrapped around his neck, and she screamed. I watched in horror as she brought her mouth to his remaining ear and sunk her teeth into the tender pink flesh and cartilage. The man began to scream, loosening his grip on my throat as he started to stand, taking Natashya with him, clinging to his back like a spider monkey.

Coughing and enjoying breathing again, I watched as he spun around and thrashed at the dancer, but she just wouldn’t let go; she pulled her head back, and blood began gushing down his neck as part of his ear tore free from his skull. Then Chloe stepped in front of him, grabbed him by the face, pulled it back, and buried the entire blade of a large knife under his chin and up into his head. The reaction was immediate; the mercenary dropped to the ground, and Natashya fell with him. She released her grip on his ear and let out a scream, pounding on his back with her fists and cursing in a language I didn’t understand.

Jon stepped past the three of us, ignoring us soundly as he made his way to the back of the large room where supposedly the other two were. Meanwhile, Shea had walked into the room and put two bullets into Baldy, ending his life. She quickly moved over the other corpses but seemed satisfied that they were dead enough until she came to Leader. Apparently, he wasn’t completely dead yet, so she put one in his head.

“All clear,” she called out.

A moment later, Emily cautiously peered into the room, looked around, and slipped in, followed by John. Emily looked unscathed, but John had one arm in a sling. He joined Chloe near Natashya, and the pair took some time to calm the beaten dancer down while Emily rushed over to kneel next to me.

“Marcus!” She looked me up and down and then inspected the handcuffs. She looked over her shoulder at the others, “Do any of you see keys? He has handcuffs on!”

“Natashya,” I wheezed, my throat still sore from nearly having the life choked out of me, as well as all the screaming I’d done.

“She’s okay,” Emily said, looking back down at me. She gave me her sweet smile, her kind, red-rimmed eyes brimming with unshed tears. An involuntary sob escaped her, and she nodded. “You’re both gonna be okay.”

“What did they do to her?” I asked. “She looked rough.”

Emily chewed on her bottom lip and looked back at Natashya. I could tell she was torn between taking care of me and wanting to better understand how her new friend was actually doing. She looked back down at me and tried in vain to stifle another sob. “You both do, Marcus.”

I could feel tears stinging my own eyes and attempted to blink them away. A few escaped, and I could feel them sliding down my cheeks - a testament to the grief over almost losing Natashya and the relief of seeing that my sister hadn’t suffered the same fate.

“Thank god she’s not dead,” I breathed and laid my head back down on the concrete. “I thought they killed her. They said they had you. Em ... I was so scared they had you.” All that work Emily had done over the past year hadn’t been undone in a single night. She was safe.

“Here,” Shea called out. Emily looked at her just in time to see the masseuse tossing a small set of silver keys. My sister caught them in one hand and immediately set to work, freeing me of my chains. Bless her ... getting those cuffs off my wrists felt better than sex. I held up one hand and examined the oozing ring of raw, red flesh. The lack of metal around my wrist didn’t mean the pain was immediately gone. Both of them felt like they’d been held against a stove burner.

“We have to get moving,” Chloe said and looked toward the back of the warehouse. “Sound off!”

“Clear back here,” Jon said from behind a small stack of boxes. He appeared a moment later, gun still in hand. “That other door’s unblocked now. Looks like they took advantage of it.”

“Shit,” Chloe said. “I was counting on questioning the woman.”

“Who was she?” I asked.

“Let’s get you back to the plane,” Chloe said without answering my question. “We’ll tell you what we know as soon as we get back there.”

“What’s the hurry?” I asked as John approached me and traded off with Emily, helping me to my feet while my sister did the same for Natashya. I groaned as John slid his shoulder under my arm and felt every single one of my ribs. Something in my shoulder popped, and any pressure I put on my right leg was met with severe pain. I tried to put on a brave face, but any significant pressure on the injured leg elicited an involuntary hiss of pain. I really hoped it wasn’t broken; the last thing I needed was three months of walking around on crutches ... it wouldn’t do much good for the intimidating businessman image I wanted to cultivate.

I heard Emily muttering to Natashya as she helped her upright. The dancer snaked an arm around my sister’s shoulders and buried her face in the crook of Emily’s neck, and I could hear quiet sobbing. My sister just held her tight and took a few moments to console her.

“You alright?” John asked, looking at me.

“Yeah,” I said. “I’m fine. I just got several hours of the GITMO treatment. That’s all.”

“You’re lucky,” John said as we walked toward the door. Well, he walked. I hobbled. “You could have ended up in much worse shape.”

I guess,” I said. “A couple of them really seemed to have it in for me. Much more than a day, and I would’ve been done for.”

Chloe, Jon, and Shea had stepped into the hall and made sure it was clear as we approached the door. My bodyguard was barking orders like some black ops commando in a movie, Shea seemed to be completely ignoring the wound in her shoulder, and Jon had slung a couple of the rifles over his shoulder and confiscated Leader’s gun before falling in line behind them.

“What do you mean?” John asked as we approached the doorway. “You’ve been gone nearly three days?”

“Wait ... what?” I asked, my head snapping up.

“Three days,” John repeated as he peered through the doorway. Our three armed companions were down the hall, and Jon motioned behind us to give the ‘all clear.’ We followed them down the hall with Emily and Natashya on our heels.

“Em,” I said, “what day is it?” I don’t know why I asked her as if

hadn’t known.

“Monday morning. Why?” Emily said, only a little breathless despite doing half of Natashya’s walking. She had several inches on Natashya, and even though she wasn’t quite as in shape as the dancer, it didn’t seem to be much of an issue.

“Jesus,” I muttered. “Three days?”

It felt like I’d been down there less than a day. How long had I been unconscious? What had they done to me to make me so disoriented that three days felt closer to one? It didn’t make sense.

“I can’t remember much of it,” I admitted, my head sagging as I felt defeated. It was bad enough that I’d been captured and beaten around like a pinata, but to not be able to trust my own mind to keep up with the time? This whole thing was a hell of a wake-up call. Most guys think they have some kind of strategy in case they get in a situation like this. I hadn’t been prepared for what happened to me, and here John was telling me I had gotten off light. I felt like a weak, naive fool.

Gunfire amplified by the smooth, concrete hallways interrupted any other thoughts of self-pity, and Chloe backed around one corner as we approached her. “Get back!” she yelled at us, bringing John and me to an abrupt halt. John leaned me against the wall and pulled Leader’s pistol from Jon’s back pocket. He flipped off the safety and checked behind us as the other three fired down the hallway in some sort of well-practiced pattern.

Emily brought Natashya next to me, and the three of us flattened against the wall to keep out of the way of the professionals. John walked past us, his sights trained in the other direction for any hint of danger while the other three dealt with the immediate threat. I got a better look at Natashya; her mouth and chin were coated in fresh blood as well as a healthy amount of dried blood, but aside from a split lip and severe bruising on the right side of her face, I didn’t see anything that would have caused that kind of bleeding.

“Is all that blood yours?” I asked.

Her shoulders were stooped, and her face appeared grave. She met my gaze and shook her head. I watched as a fresh tear slipped from her eyes. She tried to blink it away, and she looked away from me. God ... what had this poor woman suffered just because she’d been associated with me?

Despite the sadness and hurt in her eyes, a smoldering fire behind that mask of pain reminded me of Natashya’s strength. The dancer had been damaged in what was obviously some horrific ways, but she was a fighter, and I suspected she was far from broken. I placed a hand on her shoulder and gently squeezed her; I felt her flinch ever so slightly under my touch and immediately removed my hand. Right then, I made a promise to myself that I would do whatever it took to help Natashya recover from this.

“All clear,” Chloe called out.

“Still clear,” John responded.

“Let’s move!” Chloe said and disappeared around the corner. Jon waited around the other corner while John backed up to us again and ducked under me again. We started hobbling down the hall and passed two fresh bodies; one of them had a hole in his head just above the right temple, while the other looked like he’d suffered several shots to the chest. The second one stared up at me with lifeless eyes as we passed by, and it suddenly dawned on me that before this trip, I’d never seen a dead body outside of a funeral. Now, I’d seen ... what ... eight ten? Losing count of something like that wasn’t a good sign.

Just behind us, we heard someone shout, “Hey! Stop!” When we didn’t, there were a few shots fired.

“Fuck!” Chloe swore. “Move it!”

We did just that. I hobbled along beside John as quickly as I could, glancing behind us when I saw two men open fire just as we turned another corner. Drywall exploded as the bullets ripped it into sheds, sending plumes of fine dust through the air behind us.

Ahead, I could see a set of double doors up ahead and what looked like a pool of crimson spread across the floor in front of it.

“John! Pick him up! Move!” Chloe said. “Emily, can you carry her?”

“Yes!” Emily exclaimed, looking panicked.

“Then fucking carry her!”

John let out a frustrated groan and said, “Get on my back, sir!”

“Oh, Christ!” I said but didn’t hesitate to do as he suggested. I could barely walk, let alone run.

I glanced over my shoulder to see Emily taking a page out of John’s book and hauling Natashya over her shoulders before following on our heels. In the low light, my sister’s startlingly light grey eyes almost seemed to reflect the moonlight, wide with fear as she raced behind us.

Chloe and Shea were running behind us, but at a slower pace, taking time to look behind them. Sure enough, a man peered around the corner a few moments later, and Shea fired off a couple of rounds. Then she tossed down the gun and said, “I’m out!”

Chloe tossed her a gun and fired off another round at someone else. That was all I saw as John hit the glass double doors and sprinted toward a dark SUV. As soon as he reached it, he threw open the back door, tossed me in like a duffel bag, and then disappeared around the driver’s side.

Treating Natashya with more care, Emily ran past me, opened the back passenger door, and helped her friend gingerly crawl into the back seat before climbing in after her. She spun around and gripped the back headrest as she stared at the doors of the building where we’d just escaped, waiting for the others.

The engine fired to life, and John called out, “I have my orders! We’ve got ten seconds. Twenty tops. If they aren’t in here by then, we’re leaving!”

“What!?” Emily said.

“What!?” I exclaimed.

John didn’t respond. We all waited in silence, listening to the sound of the motor purr and several more shots from within the building.

And then the gunfire stopped.

A heartbeat or two passed, and John said, “We have to leave, sir!”

“The fuck we are,” I called from the back, eyes fixed on the double doors. “I’m not-”

The doors opened, revealing Chloe, Shea, and Jon as they sprinted toward us.

A silhouette appeared behind them, and Jon took a shot, forcing whoever it was out of sight.

“Get in!” Chloe bellowed, her blonde hair flying wildly behind her as she closed in on the SUV. Jon passed the back of the SUV and jumped in the front passenger seat. As soon as Shea and Chloe dove into the back with me, John floored it. The back wheels flung gravel high into the air as our getaway car quickly picked up speed and moved out of the warehouse parking lot.

“Gun!” Chloe barked, reaching out one arm as Jon handed her one of the rifles he confiscated. She turned around and brought the weapon to bear just as three more men ran out the front door, looking like they were about to open fire. Chloe fired several shots, causing them to dive for cover.

After leaving the drive and disappearing behind a fence, we heard a few more shots go off, but nothing hit us, and in a few moments, we left them far behind. Chloe reached up and shut the door to the back of the SUV, leaving the interior eerily quiet after being subjected to so much chaos.

I’d propped myself up on my elbows, watching the entire affair, and as soon as it seemed safe, I dropped back and inadvertently found my head in Shea’s lap. She leaned against the back of the rear seat, gingerly pulling the collar of her shirt down her shoulder to examine her bullet wound, and I looked up at her.