Chapter 24 - The Protector
Laura didn't use the gun. She was too close, and the risk of the bullet passing through the mercenary and hitting Mateo was too high. She used the heavy steel kitchen knife she had tucked into her waistband.
She vaulted onto the squad leader’s back, wrapping her left arm tightly around his throat to choke his airway, driving the heavy steel blade deep into the vulnerable, unarmored space between his shoulder and his neck.
The massive mercenary let out a gargled, agonizing scream, dropping his rifle to claw frantically at the knife buried in his shoulder. He spun violently, throwing Laura off his back. She crashed hard into the refrigerator, the breath knocked entirely out of her lungs.
The leader, bleeding profusely but fueled by pure adrenaline, ripped the knife from his shoulder and raised it high, stalking furiously toward Laura as she struggled to stand.
"I'm going to carve you up," he hissed, his face twisted in a mask of homicidal rage.
Mateo, lying on the floor three feet away, grabbed the fallen shotgun. He didn't have time to stand. He rolled onto his back, aimed the barrel directly at the center of the mercenary’s mass, and pulled the trigger.
The thunderous blast illuminated the destroyed kitchen in a brilliant flash of orange light. The squad leader collapsed heavily to the floor, instantly dead, the kitchen knife clattering uselessly against the tiles.
The house plunged back into absolute silence, save for the ringing in their ears and the heavy, ragged sound of their own breathing.
Mateo dropped the shotgun and scrambled across the glass-covered floor, pulling Laura into his arms.
"Are you hit?" he gasped, frantically checking her for bullet wounds. "Laura, are you hit?"
"I'm okay," she choked out, holding him tightly, burying her face in his shoulder. "I'm okay. Are they all down?"
Mateo looked around the destroyed, smoking living room. Four highly trained cartel mercenaries lay dead or unconscious on his floor.
"They're down," Mateo said, kissing her forehead.
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But the victory was short-lived. Mateo’s burner phone suddenly buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, answering the call.
"I heard the gunshots over the radio frequency," Arturo’s raspy, mechanical voice echoed through the speaker. "You killed my strike team, Mateo. Impressive. But I am not a mercenary. I am the man who is going to burn your children alive. I am standing on your front lawn."
