Jordan’s senses spiked, flooding her mind with the fight or flight instinct. She knew that running was the best option to save her own hide. First, she had to gain some advantage. Adrenaline coursed through her system, activating her sympathetic nervous system. Her heart beat faster, diverting blood to her muscles and away from her gut.
I’ll be damned if I run without causing some damage to these fuckwits!
She kicked backward, hitting him in the tender spot where the sternum ended, paralyzing his diaphragm. He bent over, gasping for breath. With a new boost of unchecked energy, it was time to throttle up balls to the wall. Years of training guided her every thought and move.
“Get some, motherfucker.” Jordan rapidly closed quarters with her adversary. With lightning reflexes, she clapped onto the back of his head with both hands and slammed it down to meet the forceful, upward thrust of her knee, effectively driving the cartilage of his nasal septum backward into his brain. It was lights out. Permanently.
“What the fuck!” The second guard spun clockwise to meet a savage left hook. The impact dropped him hard onto his knees. Now lifeless as a ragdoll, Jordan drove both her thumbs into his eye sockets to mash them against his cranial vault.
“You bitch! Now you’re dead!” The third guard’s warning came ahead of his large body charging at her.
“Jordan down!”
The graveled voice slammed inside her mind with the demand for immediate abeyance. She hit the deck. The popping sound of a silencer zinged in her ears. The guard’s big body flung backward against the wall. The surprised look on his face was supplemented by the round bullet hole between his eyes.
“Let’s go, Sutton.”
Hard hands hauled her to her feet and dragged her along. She stubbornly dug in her heels.
“I’m not going anywhere. There’s one bastard I need to take care of.”
Brock Carter turned on her like a raging bull. She could swear steam rose off the top of his head.
“There’s no time.” His eyes searched her bloodied and torn clothes. Cursing, he pushed a gun into her hands. “Fuck,” he growled as he took off his camo shirt and handed it to her. “Put it on.”
“What are you doing here?” Jordan finally managed to wrap her mind around the fact that the second-in-command and co-owner of The Cobras Black Ops Group had come to her rescue. It was a relief but knowing them, they’d hightail her ass out of Iraq to safety without any thought of letting her complete the mission. Knowing what Ali Mohammed Fadhil was capable of, she had to do what she came here for. “How did you even know where to find me?”
“We have to get out of here, Jordan. Leave the questions for later.”
“I told you, I have something to—”
She swallowed her words as he stepped closer with eyes of cold fury.
“Do the fucking math, Sutton. Including you, there are only eight of us. There’s over a hundred of them.” His voice sliced into her thoughts. “We’re leaving … NOW.”
“Eight? Don’t tell me—”
“Yes, the Cobra team and the Red kitties are also here.” He smirked at the sharp look she cast for calling the Red Reign PI team, kitties. “Let’s go. You can rip into me once I get you to safety.”
“Not before I do what I came here—”
“I don’t have time for this shit,” he mumbled.
Jordan’s eyes rolled back in their sockets as Brock snapped the side of his palm in a Dim Mak move against her carotid baroreceptor, the sensitive area at her lower neck, with just enough force to render her unconscious.
His expression was grim as he caught her in his arms. Knowing her, she was going to give him a proper tongue-lashing once she came to.
“Shit.” Brock’s curse echoed through the atmosphere as movement from a doorway down the hallway drew his attention.
“Stop! Who the fuck are you?”
He ignored the three men charging towards him as he lifted Jordan over his shoulder and sprinted down the hallway, zig-zagging to avoid the spray of rounds exploding past his head. He tapped his ear twice to activate the comms.
“Coming in hot. I need some suppressing fire asap! Be ready for extraction in five minutes. Don’t be fucking late!”
Jordan came to with fists flying. She found great pleasure when one connected with a strong jaw. If the bastard terrorist leader thought she was easy meat, he was in for a surprise.
“Jesus, woman! I expected a different form of appreciation for saving your ass, however cute it might be.”