Page 92 of Embrace the Darkness

“The fucker bit me,” I grumbled.

“No shit? Let me see?” He turned his body expectantly. I sighed and lifted my hair. He hissed, then chuckled. “He went all caveman on you. Good for him.”

“Hey!” I smacked him with the back of my hand on his shoulder. “I’m not—”

I didn’t get to finish chastising him. Loud popping and glass shattering startled us all. Blood exploded from the front seat, spraying on my face. There was a split second where Rourke’s green eyes met mine before hell ensued. His eyes moved from mine to look past me. Something made them widen and he went to reach for me, but a force slammed into the side of the car. Rourke’s handnever reached me. Not that he could prevent what was to come.

Time slowed down. I was thrown from my seat. The car felt like it was flying, suspending me in the air as if I were weightless. Then gravity happened. My body was tossed around like a rag doll, hitting and smacking everything hard. I tried to grab onto anything. Headrests, seatbelts, they all slipped through my fingers. My head slammed against a side window, breaking it, then everything went black. For how long, I didn’t know.

I came to face down on the ceiling in the trunk space. The Escalade was upside-down, windows shattered all around, leaving me lying on a bed of glass and debris. The whole world spun as my head redefined the word agony. The rest of me wasn’t any better off. That was my reality. Every inch of my body felt battered and bruised. I didn’t know where to start assessing the extent of my injuries.

“Maura!” someone called out to me.

A pathetic whimper was all I could respond with as words failed me.

“Damnit! Maura!” someone cursed. The sound of movement followed. I was rolled over, the pain forcingme to cry out. “It’s okay, cuz. I got you.” Rourke pulled my head and shoulders into his lap, eyes roaming over me in an assessing way. He looked like shit. Blood was splattered over his face. His cheek and ear were bleeding.

“Is she alive?!” Dean shouted, sounding panicked.

“Yeah!” Rourke yelled over his shoulder. “We’ve got to get out of here,” he said, staring down at me.

Rustling and glass crunching was followed by footsteps echoing outside the car. “Maura, can you grab my hand?”

I turned my head as much as I could, finding both Dean and Asher kneeling outside the car. Dean reached inside, hand held out for me. Thank fuck, they were alright. Gritting my teeth, I lifted my arm and grabbed his hand. Before he could start to pull me out, more popping came. Gunfire. Rourke threw his body on top of mine and we all hunkered down. Bullets flew around us. Loud thunks made the car shake. Rourke’s body jerked and he grunted above me. I knew I was hit when a sharp burning ignited on my side. I screamed into Rourke’s shoulder.

The squealing of tires and the sound of more gunfire seemed to cease the firing on our car. It was like we were in the middle of a war zone. Dean never let go of my hand and the moment the fire was taken off of us, he wasted no time in pulling me out of the car. I was grateful I waswearing a leather jacket because I could feel glass scraping underneath me. Once I was out, Asher took me from Dean and sat me up against the car. He put a gun in my hand, then stood guard while Dean reached back into the car to retrieve Rourke.

Watching them, I was shocked they were still standing. They were cut up, banged up, and covered in enough blood to cause concern. Asher’s nose was bleeding and he had a bunch of tiny cuts splashed across his face and neck. Blood was spilling like ribbons from a gash on Dean’s scalp, just above his left temple.

Looking around, I found we had crash landed at the edge of a parking garage. Peeking out at where the gunfire continued to go off, I saw the two guys in the utility van were giving us cover from what looked like an army of men. Three SUVs, similar to ours, were lined up like a wall for about twenty men to use for cover to shoot from. Our two guys weren’t going to be able to hold them off for long.

Dean dragged Rourke from the car, grunting from the exertion. Rourke wasn’t moving. With adrenaline numbing my pain, I helped roll him over onto his back. “Shit! Shit! Shit!” I cursed. His shirt was soaked with blood. He groaned and put a hand to his stomach. I liftedup his shirt. Blood was pooling from a small hole a few inches from his belly button.

“We’ve got to move,” Asher said and lifted Rourke to his feet. He took most of Rourke’s weight by slinging his arm over his shoulder. Dean took my gun and yanked me up by my arm, making me grunt. His arm snaked around my waist after seeing how unsteady I was on my feet and the four of us ventured deeper into the parking garage.

We moved as fast as we could with me hobbling and Asher dragging Rourke. We were approaching the other side that exited into the street when tires screeched in the distance. Looking back, I saw one of our attacker’s SUVs come into view. We weren’t going to make it on foot. As I searched around frantically, an elevator by the exit caught my eye.

“Elevator,” I pointed. Dean left me to run ahead and I limped on as quickly as I could without falling. He pressed the button to call the elevator about a million times. By the time we caught up to him, the doors opened, and we climbed in. Not really thinking, I pressed the button with the letter B that had a sticker next to it that read, Staff Only. The doors closed on the SUV coming to a screeching halt outside and the elevator made its descent.

The ride was short. Once the doors were open, I pushed the emergency stop button, preventing anyone from calling the elevator. We stepped into a mechanical room. On the far wall hung a bunch of electrical boxes with metal piping coming out of the top, traveling up the wall into the ceiling. On one side of the room there was a desk with a conference phone, walkie talkies, and a keyboard. The wall above it held six CCTVs, surveilling different areas of the parking garage. On the opposite wall was a couple bulletin boards, a mini fridge, a small table with a microwave on it, and a metal door with a tiny window that showed concrete stairs leading up.

Noticing a walkie talkie missing from the charging station, I could only assume the security guard had bolted the moment guns had started firing.

Eyeing the door leading to the stairs, I darted for it and turned the bolt, locking it. It wouldn’t be enough, especially if they started shooting through the window. “We need to block off the door,” I said out loud, looking around.

“We’ll do that. Take care of Rourke,” Asher ordered, laying Rourke on the floor. He was pale from losing too much blood. I looked around again for anything that might help stop his bleeding. A first aid kit hanging on the wall had me hobbling across the room.

Dean and Asher worked quickly, moving the large metal desk in front of the door, and as they were lifting the mini fridge on top of it to block the small window, Dean yelled out, “Incoming!”

“We need to call for help,” I stated, ripping the white plastic first aid kit off the wall.

The door handle jiggled before the sound of loud banging. I could barely hear Asher talking on his cell as I kneeled next to Rourke and started sifting through the kit. I came across a few packets of gauze. Tearing the paper packaging, I stacked the pieces and pressed them firmly over Rourke’s wound. He groaned loudly.

“If it hurts, it means you’re alive,” I said, reassuring him and myself. I released a shuddering breath. Now that I was finally sitting still, my aches and pains were quickly catching up to me. I wanted to throw up from the pounding pressure coming from my head. The side of my yellow shirt was soaked with blood and there was a sharpness intensifying on my side. With one hand, I lifted my shirt. Damnit. I'd been shot just above my hip. I was bleeding, but not as profusely as Rourke. Glancing back at the first aid kit, I saw Band-Aids, disinfectant, and an Ace bandage, all of which couldn’t help me.

“Maura.”

I quickly dropped my shirt. Asher stood behind me, holding out his phone.