Harper reeled back a few steps as her nose stung and tears welled in her eyes. Running her tongue along her upper lip, she tasted blood, presumably trickling from her tingling nose.
Enough.
Planting her right leg firmly on the hard-packed dirt, she recalled some of her kickboxing training and hopped onto her left leg, twisting her right foot through the air to land a solid roundhouse kick to the head of the brute who hit her. He flailed backward, knocking his head against the wall, and then fell flat onto the ground.
And stayed there.
The crack of gunfire ripped throughout the shadows again. She whipped around, watching bodies fall. More close-range shots rang and more bodies fell.
Silence.
She realized after a cold moment that she was the only one still standing. A murky haze from the gunfire and upset earth veiled the area as she anxiously searched for Rome among the prone figures.
The leaden tang of blood swamped her senses. She could taste it with every breath. Smell its thick stench. See the dark stains mingle with the shadows on every surface.
She found Rome lying facedown. As she turned him over, she gasped at the blood covering his face and drenching his coat.
Was it his? Had he been shot?
A blinking light and hushed single beep came from her wrist. No. The system that Rome had shut off was about to come on. Her watch warned their sixty-five minutes were up in sixty seconds.
“Rome,” she whispered, shaking him gently. “Rome.”
No response. They needed to get out of there. Now. Before more people came. Panic bubbled in her stomach. Were you supposed to move gunshot victims?
Maybe a little louder. “Rome!” she screamed in true fright, afraid he might really be hurt.
A strong hand seized her wrist. She jumped back, but the ironclad grip held her steady before she fell over.
“Stop yelling, Harper,” Rome rasped, and groaned as he struggled to push himself up on his elbows.
“Sorry,” she spurted, relieved beyond belief that he was okay. She hadn’t started to think about what she’d do without him. She didn’t want to.
She reached under his arms to help him. He groaned even more, but allowed her to support him. That spoke volumes to her.
Smiling, she began to stand and heft him up with her. His arm clenched her slashed forearm, making her wince in the dimness as her wound seethed from his heavy touch.
“Let’s go before more come,” Rome grunted through heavy breaths. Great idea.
He braced against her as he stood, a bit wobbly. She flung her arm quickly around his lower back, trying to hold him up. He was solid muscle.
Walking to the bunker doorway, his sagging weight almost knocked her over. Leaving him to lean against the dirt wall, she hurled the door open.
The bright daylight nearly blinded her, but she grabbed Rome around his waist and hauled him up the uneven stairs and outside with her. Sucking in a lungful of cool air, she relished being in the fresh outdoors and out of that rank corridor.
Rome moaned, and she chanced a sideways glimpse at him as they staggered away. He looked as if he were about ready to keel over, but lurched forward to snap himself alert. Thank goodness her years of training had made her legs strong; otherwise his jerky motion might have pitched them both face-first onto the ground.
A beeping noise startled them both. Her watch alarm. Their sixty-five minutes were up. Good thing they’d scurried far enough away for cover where they were hidden from the outside surveillance, just beyond her original hideout. And close to Rome’s stashed motorbike.
He’d been the one to drive them here on the bike, but he was in no condition to drive now. They’d concealed the Bug about fifteen miles from this location and ridden over the uneven forested terrain to get here.
In other circumstances, she’d have been excited to drive the unusually quiet dirt bike, one of Rome’s many resources. He’d given her a basic tour of the machine and how to operate it, but right now, she just hoped she could get back to safety without killing either of them.
Reaching the bike, she propped Rome against a tree trunk. He was steadier now, but in definite pain, given his intermittent wincing and grunting. The slice in her arm was simply on fire, but she put the burning aside to pull the bike out of its camouflage of leafy brush.
She rolled it toward Rome and started it up just as he’d shown her. As soon as it rumbled to life, she pulled up next to him.
She helped him settle onto the back of the wet leather seat, and then quickly moved ahead of him to straddle the bike, grimacing at the sogginess that seeped into her jeans. About to reach behind to secure his hold, he did the job himself by wrapping his shaky arms snuggly around her torso.
“Rome, are you okay?” she asked softly, knowing she should’ve asked sooner, but also knowing she couldn’t have taken the time. They probably didn’t have the time now, either.
“Yeah. Okay,” he said with a sigh, and leaned forward against her back, his warm breath reassuring against her damp neck.
Harper took a moment to pull his arms tighter around her middle, and then put the bike into gear. The drizzly wind streaked through her hair and the hazy sun energized her exhausted body as they sped through the rough forest in a light drizzle.
Reluctant to take her eyes off the terrain, she chanced a glance over her shoulder at Rome. His eyes were squinted but alert as they raced along.
Turning her gaze forward, Harper was just in time to see a big black Hummer barreling through the trees, headed straight for them.
Harper yelped as bullets whizzed past her head. A man was standing through the sunroof, aiming a rifle at them while the huge vehicle continued on a head-on course toward their little motorbike.
“Holy shit!” Rome’s loud curse reached her ears as more gunfire rang out. “Turn!”
He didn’t need to tell her twice.
She veered the bike to the left, nearly skidding the machine out from under them on the loose, wet soil. The Hummer flew past them and slammed on the brakes to angle around.
Her knuckles strained white with tension as she gripped with all her strength, trying to control the fishtailing bike. Rome began leaning with the motions, which eventually helped her steady the wild twisting.
Sparing a quick glance over her shoulder, she saw the black monster tear up the earth with its spinning tires. Finally catching enough traction, it began to follow them.
Great. Just great. How was she going to lose them? She could barely manage this thing. Sure, she’d driven Jet Skis, but they were made to slide around. The bike needed solid footing. Something that was going to be difficult on the leafy, muddy ground.
Another round of bullets streamed past her as she turned back around. She had to focus on the jarring landscape.
“Weave, don’t keep a straight line,” Rome shouted.
One of his arms unwound from her waist. His hand shifted between them as though he was digging around for something. Something solid brushed against her lower back.
A gun. It was a little frightening that she was beginning to recognize it so easily.
“Keep it steady,” Rome instructed, and started to remove his other arm from around her.
“What are you doing?” Harper asked, worried about his stability. She was fighting hard against the rocks and muck to keep from dumping them off the bike while he was wiggling it.
“I’m going to shoot back while you lose them,” Rome explained simply.
Oh. Okay. No problem.
More rustling behind her was followed by a few grunts. She continued to wind across the terrain, zigzagging to keep from being hit by the bullets peppering the drizzly air and foliage around them.
Harper almost jumped out of the seat when Rome’s arms encircled her to tie his fleece coat around her middle. She looked down to see his hands twist the arms into a tight knot. He tugged on it, pulling her a little with it.