Page 69 of Rebel Protector

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, his heart aching at the sight of her bruised, swollen face.Carlos deserved everything he got.

Ghost picked her up, kicking Carlos in the ribs as he carried her out.

He made his way through the kitchen and out the back toward the garages. Shifting Becca’s weight over his shoulder, he grimaced as his injured left arm took the strain, but he needed his right free for the rifle. There were still guards on patrol and if they hadn’t heard the ruckus inside, they’d soon find Carlos’s body and the place would be shut down.

“Who are you?”

Ghost spun around, weapon poised. One of Carlos’s men was pointing a rifle at him.

“I’ve got to get her to a doctor,” he said, taking a chance and lowering the weapon. The man wouldn’t know he was rescuing her. “I work for Markov, this is his personal assistant.”

The man hesitated, his gaze wandering over Becca. From where he was standing, he couldn’t see her face.

“She’s hurt, there’s been an accident,” Dom insisted. “The boss wouldn’t want anything to happen to her while he’s away.”

The man nodded and pressed a remote, which raised the garage door. Dom ducked inside and laid Becca on the back seat of the SUV. He’d no more than closed the door before he heard shouting outside.

“Stop him!” came the cry in Spanish.

Shit.

They’d found Carlos’s body!

Ghost jumped into the driver’s seat and started the engine. Luckily, the keys were always kept in the ignition in case of emergencies. Markov’s orders. He never knew when he’d have to make a quick exit.

The garage door began to lower, but Ghost revved the SUV and took off, accelerating through it. The bottom half went flying.

The two guards jumped back as he roared past them down the driveway. The vegetation on either side flew by in a green blur. There was some incoming fire at the gate as the guards tried half-heartedly to stop him, but he blasted through with a crunch of twisted metal.

Becca was still unconscious on the back seat. This wasn’t good, she was in a bad way.

He pushed the SUV as hard as it would go, past the light aircraft that had been abandoned by the side of the road, skidding around corners and smoking on the worn tarmac until he reached the nearest village.

It was in darkness, having shut down for the night. He decreased his speed and cruised until he came across a tiny cantina, which was little more than a lit window in a wall.

Good enough.

He pulled over, giving the young couple making out in front a fright.

“Which way to the nearest doctor?” he asked, in Spanish.

When they just stared at him, he reiterated, “Doctor? Clinic? Hospital?”

“Ah, si,” said the young man and rattled off an address.

Ghost shook his head and pointed down the road. “Dónde?” Where?

The girl gave him directions. He nodded his thanks.

“The clinic will be shut,” she shouted after him, “but the doctor lives in the apartment above.”

Ghost put his foot down, leaving skid marks behind him.

CHAPTER 28

El Centro Médico, read the sign above the glass-fronted brick building.

Finally.