Page 108 of Under His Guard

He comes quick enough, and I tag the gas mask he’s wearing. Clearly, they know better than to enter without one for a while.

I’d like that, please.

The floor creaks right at the threshold—like it always does—and I suck in a breath as the guy steps forward.

When I have a clear shot, I swing the bat with everything I have, landing the wood right in the fucker’s neck.

He goes down hard, sputtering for air. I steal the mask off his face, securing it on my own.

The gas hasn’t flooded this area yet, so he’ll have a bit of time before it gets him, but I’m not taking any chances.

Hell, they could still be pumping the shit in if they have masks.

“Over there!”

“Shit.” I keep my voice low, but I know the guy’s fall wasn’t exactly quiet.

I’m not surprised they pegged a location, so I hurry into the hall before they can round the corner and see me.

Ducking into the laundry room, I hope to keep playing this hide-and-go-smack game of tag.

The newest asshole in my view is also wearing a gas mask. And he’s got on thicker body armor and a set of goggles.

He’s clearly more prepared than the last guy was. He might be a higher rank judging from that, too.

The Cobras appear to have better resources than I expected. Worse, this attire and the gas usage speak to either stolen or bargained supplies from the authorities.

My heart rate is up, but I’m keeping my body still, relying on those old military skills as I wait for this guy to walk past.

The smell on the inside of this mask is fucking terrible, too. It’s old rubber and the previous owner’s aftershave.

Nausea crawls up the back of my throat at the combination, and then something hits me.

If these assholes are here, they’re looking for Clara, too. Dammit, I don’t know where she is.

A heavy footfall pulls me out of my head, and I flick my eyes back up to see the guy standing right at the laundry room door.

He isn’t passing by. He’s standing there and peering into the master room, calling out for his damn partner.

“Rodrigo! Report!”

Even if the asshole is still conscious, this Rodrigo fella isn’t answering. Too much throat trauma.

Go on, go check on him.

The guy takes another step forward and then another. When I can finally get behind him, I sneak out, deadly silent.

I wrap the baseball bat around the guy’s neck in a flash of movement.

Speed is the most crucial asset I have right now. That and stealth.

Squeezing the bat against him with everything I have, the guy tries to free himself. He shuffles us backward until my back hits the wall.

He tries to slam me into the drywall over and over, hoping to dislodge me.

I keep that bat pressed tight to his neck, suffocating him until he finally passes out, and I can drop him to the floor.

Quieter this time, I kneel at the downed assailant, pulling off his mask and goggles.

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