Debra Anastasia
USA Today Bestselling Author

GAGE

 

Gage cursed her in his head as she bit his hand—hard. She was half passed out and still fighting against him and the wild man with the bomb. She might be a big pain in the ass in the real world. She sure wasn’t helping here.

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He caught Sydney’s eye. The big bodyguard looked calm and sedate. Gage knew he was anything but. They locked eyes again, and Sydney scratched his head with four fingers. Gage knew they would move after a countdown of four. They were tensed and ready by the three. But Sydney was a liar. He took off by himself on two. Gage started after him immediately, but the big man was in the way. A gunshot didn’t stop Sydney’s forward movement, but the second shot took his leg out from under him. Gage tripped and fell on top of his friend’s body. He would have continued on, finishing what Sydney started, but the man was not pointing the pistol in Gage’s direction. He had it trained on Milla.

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Gage looked from the woman struggling to stay awake to the gun man man. This was a horrible stand off. He eased off of Sydney’s back and turned his attention to his friend. The bodyguard’s deep brown eyes fluttered open.

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“How bad?” Gage had to know.

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“Bad.” Sydney’s voice was flecked with pain.

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“I’m not losing you. Not today.” Gage’s mind cried at the blood pooling under his friend. He expected a smart-ass remark, but instead there was silence.

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The wild man started laughing. “God, that felt so good! I just love that!”

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The man turned his back on Milla and scrunched down so he was eye level with Gage. “Maybe I’ll just kill you guys and see how many more I can take out.”

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Gage was trying to decide when to lunge, praying the whole time that Sydney was still alive, when the air shifted. He kept his eyes still, but the girl was up and ready to do something. She was wobbly, but quiet. And really, really pissed. Gage focused on the bomb’s button. Just as the girl swung, he jumped, pressing on top of the crazy man’s finger. The gun was level with Gage’s face as he worked to place his own finger on the button. The girl rained punches on the gunman’s head.

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“Harder!” Gage screamed.

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With her last punch, the man went limp. She gasped and pulled the gun away from him.

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Staggering backward toward Sydney, Gage looked at his finger. He was pressing the button. All he had to do was not let go. “This must be a release trigger or a fake,” he said, mesmerized by it.

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“Don’t let go,” Milla suggested. She was bleeding from her foot again, but she was too busy checking on Sydney to care.

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“I won’t let go.” Gage tried to clear his mind of the worry, the concern.

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“Don’t let go,” the girl ordered again before checking for Sydney’s pulse. “He’s still got a heartbeat. Don’t let go.”

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“I won’t let go.” Gage hoped all his guitar playing gave him an exceptionally sturdy grip. “Is he breathing?”

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She laid her head on the man’s chest. “Yeah, it’s shallow, but it’s there. Don’t let go.”

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Gage felt grateful tears rim his eyes. “I won’t let go. Apply pressure.” He kept an eye on the gunman, making sure the man wasn’t coming to.

“Pressure hurts. Maybe you should kill the Devil’s Fart.” The girl scrambled for a blanket and held pressure to Sydney’s knee.

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“What did you just say?” Gage wondered if she was delusional.

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Through the broken door came a guy wearing a suit who looked pretty damn scary.

“Don’t let go, dude.” He busted through the rest of the door and made way for two more of his buddies to enter.

“Wasn’t planning on it.” Gage really didn’t want to die this close to some other guy’s nuts. “My friend has been shot. He needs help. And the girl has a toe wound.”

“Well, you hang on there for a minute while I figure this thing out, and we can all leave. I’m Brett. Nice to meet you.” The bomb guy wisely did not offer to shake hands.

The two other bomb squad members prepared Sydney to be moved.

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“Hey, Ms. Kierce, do you think you could make it over here?” A handsome police officer motioned to her.

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“What about that guy?” She pointed at Gage.

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He tried not to be angry. They had kissed, they had sweated together in this room for God knows how long. And she called him “that guy?”

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“I’m Detective Brun, Ms. Kierce, and my men will take good care of the singer.”

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He motioned for her to come through the door.

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“Call me Milla.” Her gaze caught Gage’s. “You okay?”

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“I’m fine. Go.” He tried not to feel jealous as Brun moved in and scooped her up in his arms.

“Sorry, Milla, but my men have to get through here with that victim. Best you don’t walk on that foot anyway.”

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Gage squeezed the button a little too hard as he heard their fading conversation.

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“Call me Rocco. You’re one hell of a brave chick. Ever think of joining the force?”

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A bomb squad member interrupted Gage’s eavesdropping when he shot the gunman in the neck with a needle. 

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He smiled at Gage through a clear mask. “Just making sure this guy stays down. Little tranquilizer never killed anyone.”

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They lifted Sydney through the remains of the door, and Gage took it as a good sign that no one was doing CPR on the bodyguard.

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“Too bad. This asshole could use a little death.” Gage tried to stretch his tense muscles.

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Another bomb squad member came in bearing protective clothing for Gage. They covered him as best they could while the lead man inspected the device.

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“So, am I going out with a bang or what?” Gage expected a smile from the little crowd.

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“Okay, Gage, I have some bad news and some really bad news. Which do you want first?”