Page 16 of Rescuing Mia

“I’m not sure.” My voice is unsteady as a slight dizziness muddles my thoughts. “There was a scuffle… I think someone tried to…”

Drug me? I must be paranoid.

My words trail off as I pull my fingers from my neck, noticing a streak of blood smeared on them. The room shifts subtly, the drug’s effects not enough to overpower me but sufficient to make everything seem slightly off-kilter, as though I’m floating.

Spinning.

His expression hardens, and he slides out of the booth. He grips my arm tight and hauls me to my feet.

“We need to go. Now. It’s not safe.”

I turn toward the front door, but he yanks me back, his grip like iron.

“Not that way.”

He pulls me down a corridor toward the restrooms, bursting through a door leading to a back alley. The humid air slams into me like a slap, and I stumble, my head spinning.

My contact is already on his phone, barking orders for backup, but as we’re about to exit the alley, a figure steps into view at the other end.

Lena.

Time slows as she raises a gun, her gaze locks onto me. The crack of the shot is deafening in the narrow alley. Agent Torres grunts, jerking back as a blossom of red spreads across his shirt.

I gasp, stumbling backward as a spray of warm liquid splatters across my face. It takes me a moment to realize it’s blood—his blood—hot and sticky against my skin.

He returns fire, the gun bucking in his hand, and Lena doubles over, a scream of pain tearing from her throat as the bullet ripsinto her gut. She crumples to the ground, blood pooling beneath her.

But even as she falls, her gun comes up again, her face a mask of agony and rage. Another shot rings out, and Agent Torres staggers, a look of shocked disbelief on his face as a crimson stain blooms over his heart.

He’s dead before he hits the ground, his phone skittering from his hand and sliding under the dumpster.

My breath catches in my throat, and for a moment, I’m frozen, paralyzed by fear. The sight of Agent Torres lying in a pool of his own blood, the dark stain spreading beneath him, is seared into my mind.

I can’t move, can’t breathe, can’t think.

Lena is on her knees now, her gun shaking in her blood-slicked hands as she tries to bring it to bear on me.

Survival instincts kick in, and I move before I realize what I’m doing.

I lunge to the side as another shot rings out, the sound deafening in the narrow alley. The bullet ricochets off the wall behind me, sending a spray of brick and mortar into the air. The debris stings my skin, but I barely register the pain.

I lunge for Torres’s fallen wallet, stuffing it into my backpack along with the tablet. I need to contact the embassy and tell them what happened.

Do I leave him here? I can’t do that. It’s wrong, but I don’t dare stay where I am.

For a split second, my eyes dart to the dumpster, to the phone lying just out of reach.

But there’s no time.

Lena’s gun rises, her finger tightening on the trigger. I turn and run, bursting back through the café’s rear door just as another shot rings out. The bullet shatters the bricks mere inches from my head.

Back in the bar, disoriented by the sudden noise and light, the music is too loud, the laughter too sharp, and the colors too bright. For a moment, I’m blinded, stumbling, and disoriented.

But I don’t stop.

I can’t stop.

My legs move of their own accord, carrying me forward even as my mind struggles to keep up. I weave through the crowd, pushing past people, my elbows and shoulders colliding with strangers. Shouts of surprise and anger follow me, but I don’t slow down.