Pitón pulled her down a hallway, his pistol drawn.
As soon as they were out of sight of the others, she let her rage out, drawing on her combatives training and hitting Pitón squarely in the gut with her elbow.
Taken by surprise, he grunted, doubled over.
“Malparido!” She laced her fingers together and struck him on the back of the neck then tried to kick the pistol from his hands. But her damned skirt was too narrow, stopping her and almost making her fall over.
Fury on his face, Pitón slammed her in the chest with his shoulder, forced her back against an iron pillar, and shoved the pistol against her cheek. “Do that again,puta, and I’ll put a bullet through your brain!”
“You won’t get away, Eduardo. They’ll kill you. You should surrender.”
“Shut up!” He dragged her around a corner, pushed open a side door, and ran outside, only to find the two men who’d been guarding it dead on the ground. “Malparidos!”
“You can’t escape.”
Panicked, he looked up and down the dark, silent street—then put the pistol to her head and used her as a shield as he made his way to a parked car. “If they try to stop me, you’re dead.”
Come on, guys! Stop this asshole!
And then he was there—a man in full combat dress and night vision goggles, his rifle raised and pointed straight at Pitón. He moved forward with the grace of a predator, step by step. He shouted to Pitón in Spanish. “Let her go!”
Gabriela recognized his voice. It was the one who’d pretended to be Cuban. Swamped with relief, she almost smiled.
Pitón froze. He tightened his grip on Gabriela, one arm around her throat, the barrel of his pistol pressing painfully against her temple. “I’ll kill herright nowif you don’t drop your rifle.”
Gabriella spoke in English. “Pull the trigger.”
* * *
That’s notwhat Dylan had expected Sister María to say, but he didn’t need her encouragement. He exhaled—and fired.
Pop!
The bastard was dead before he hit the ground.
Dylan reached for his hand mic. “Cobra Actual, this is Cruz. The last tango is down. I’ve retrieved the hostage and am heading toward extract.”
He jogged over to Sister María, still speaking Spanish. “Are you okay,Hermana?”
“Sí.” She wiped blood spatter off her cheek, her lip split and swollen. “Let’s get out of here.”
That sounded good to him. He didn’t like being separated from the others. “Can you run? We need to get up to the roof.”
“Yes. Where are the other hostages?”
He was touched by her selflessness. A lot of people in this situation would be concerned only with saving their own asses. But, of course, she was a nun. “They’re already on the roof, waiting for a helicopter. Come. We must hurry.”
They had run just a few feet when Dylan heard the roar of truck engines.
Tower’s voice came over his earpiece. “Cruz, this is Cobra Actual. Take cover! You’ve got enemy QRF pushing your position, coming in fast from the north.”
What the fuck?
He made a split-second decision. “This way,Hermana. More bad guys are coming to join the party.”
They ducked inside the open doorway of an apartment building across from the warehouse. Dylan shut the door, watching through a window as three big troop transports rounded the corner and stopped in the middle of the street. “Get down!”
Dozens of armed men jumped to the ground and rushed into the warehouse.