Page 142 of Devil's Claim

A soldier jumped into the passenger seat, catching my eye a split second before he slammed the door. The driver didn’t hesitate, flooring the accelerator, tires squealing in the process.

As I rushed forward, I issued a sharp cry coming from deep within my gut and ran with everything I had inside of me.

Everything around me was a blur. All I could think about was saving her life. Fuck. If the asshole made the turn before I made additional ground, I’d lose them. While emitting a primal roar, I put everything I had into chasing after them, cutting through traffic, almost hit before jumping onto the sidewalk.

As the driver cut the corner, I raced toward them, throwing myself into the air. I came down hard, instantly wrapping myarm around the side mirror on the passenger side. Goddamn it. I was right-handed.

The driver tried to swerve as the passenger jerked his weapon into view. The jerk of the vehicle interfered with his aim. He blew the glass out on the side of me just as I grabbed a second gun with my left hand.

With no time to waste, I fired off two shots, almost knocked off when the driver raced around another corner. The soldier in the passenger seat slumped over. The driver tried to grab a weapon and I reached through the broken glass, firing off a shot in closer range.

Everything happened so quickly. The driver lost control, slumping over the wheel, the vehicle veering toward a parked car. As soon as it smashed into the side, I was pitched off.

People were screaming.

Running.

Sirens roared above the chaos.

Traffic didn’t slow, zooming by.

All I could think about was getting inside the van. Steam rose from the crumpled front. Panting, I wiped blood from my brow and rushed toward the side door just as it was thrown open.

With his arm around Christine’s neck, Fassi yanked her toward the edge of the van.

I straightened to my full height, staring at the worthless son of a bitch we’d been hunting. He wasn’t the massive figure he made himself out to be, barely five foot eight. It didn’t matter. He had a weapon pointed at her head.

I kept my hands wrapped around the weapon, doing my best to keep my cool.

Her face was ashen, the gag in her mouth enough to piss me off. Seeing movement, I reacted instantly, firing off a shot to the enemy soldier also in the cargo hold.

There was no time for conversation. I could tell by the look in Fassi’s eyes he had no intention of allowing my beautiful wife to live.

When I cocked my head and locked eyes with the woman I’d accidentally fallen in love with, it was as if she’d read my mind.

Her sharp elbow jab into his stomach was enough to break his hold. Christine lunged forward, but not before kicking him in the groin. Just as she went down, both Fassi and I reacted at the same time.

Only instead of turning his weapon on me, he pointed the barrel of the gun toward my wife.

And the fucker laughed.

Pop! Pop! Pop!

The force of the gunshots drove him backward. He stumbled, twisting in a macabre dance before spiraling directly into traffic.

A hard thud was followed by a screech of tires, another thump a split second later.

I rushed forward, dropping to the sidewalk and gathering Christine into my arms.

“Baby. Oh, fuck, baby.” I jerked at the gag, hissing when I couldn’t get it off right away.

Her eyes peered up at me, a single tear slipping down the side of her face.

As soon as the gag was off, she gasped for air and gripped my hand.

“Oh, baby. I love you,” I told her.

“You love me?” she repeated, a wicked look in her eyes.