Rising Hope by Edie James

25

Enzo jolted awake.His head spun like he was on a carnival ride. Everything was hazy and the edges of his vision blurred. He noticed a sharp pain in his head. He must have been knocked unconscious. As his vision cleared, he looked up to see Sarah seated across from him, shaking her head fiercely, her eyes wide and intense.

It was clear she was trying to warn him about something. He laid back, trying to get his bearings. The floor rumbled and moved beneath him, surging from side to side and back to front.

He was in a vehicle, on the floor. He raised his head again. A sharp pain ran through him. He laid back gingerly and glanced up. The van. Panetta and Munson’s undercover vehicle.

A dark head was visible above the top of the driver’s seat. Panetta.

The passenger seat had appeared empty. He studied Sarah.

If anyone had hurt her...

Blood rushed to his brain. He took a deep breath, forcing back the fury. If he was going to get them out of this, he had to stay calm.

He started to roll on his side to get up, but Sarah shook her head. Enzo nodded his understanding. Surprise was on their side. Maybe the only thing that was.

Panetta stopped the car and swore, the words echoing inside the metal walls.

Sarah smiled grimly.

Odd, until Enzo realized he hadn’t been restrained. Whatever happened next, this was his one chance.

He pretended he was still out, forcing his arms and legs to untense.

The blood in his mouth tasted of copper. The floor was hard. The ribs of the rubber mat cut into his cheek.

One punch. Just one punch. He lifted a prayer. Please, Lord, give me one good punch.

He’d done it before. Too many years ago to count, now, but one time, when he was almost as tall as Dante, he’d had enough of his brother’s cutting sarcasm and fired back. Put his big bro down with one shot to the jaw.

It ended the cruel teasing and gained him a measure of respect from all three brothers.

He waited, eyes closed, heart pounding in his ears, straining to picture Panetta’s position as the man moved toward him.

Panetta would have to crouch down to tie him up. He held his breath, listening over the rumble of the engine for the swish of fabric, or the squeak of a leather holster. Anything to indicate that Panetta was bending close.

An air current was his first indication. Then the hot, sour smell of Panetta’s breath. Sandwich meat, and the stink of sweat.

Now.

He rolled onto his left side, exploding upward with his fist. A vicious uppercut to Panetta’s jaw. The man’s head snapped back with an audible crack, his body carried up and back by the force of the blow.

The back of the agent’s head connected with the side of the door. An added bonus.

Enzo curled his legs underneath him and shoved himself to his feet, crouching beneath the low ceiling, fists ready.

Panetta sagged sideways.

“Get my gun!” Sarah yelled. “Left side.”

“Got it.” Enzo yanked the weapon from the holster beneath the man’s arm.

Panetta’s eyes rolled back in his head, but he wasn’t completely out.

Close quarters combat with a handgun and Sarah pinned in place would be a bad move. He shoved the groggy man out of the van.

Gun in hand, he jumped out after him. But the movement jarred his aching head. He dropped the weapon, pressing his hands into the sides of the doorway to keep himself upright.

His vision cleared. He scrambled and picked up the gun just as Panetta stumbled to his feet. Blood dripped from the corner of the man’s mouth. He raised his fists, swaying on his feet, but it was obvious the fight had gone out of him.

Careful to stay out of reach, Enzo aimed the gun at his chest. “On the ground. Hands above your head.”

Panetta gaped at him. He was already gathering his faculties. Enzo could see it in the hateful glare.

Sarah kicked her satchel toward the open door. “I have cuffs in my purse.”

Without taking his eyes off the agent, Enzo plunged his hand into her bag, rooting around until he felt the cold circles of steel. He debated freeing her before he secured Panetta.

Two guards would be better than one, but he didn’t want to give Panetta the slightest opening. But he’d have to set down the gun and get right up close to the man to secure the cuffs himself.

Unless he made Panetta do it for him.

Either way, they needed to move. They’d long since left the dirt side road for a winding two lane highway. Even in the dimming light, he recognized the area. An old farm road that wound along the edge of a steep canyon, running from the eastern side of the mountains down to the coast. Too long and winding, the crumbling road was unknown to most tourists. But that didn’t mean Panetta didn’t have help coming.

He tossed the cuffs at the other man. “Put them on. One wrist only.”

Panetta complied with Enzo’s request, glaring the entire time as if he wanted to rip Enzo’s heart straight out.

“Now the signpost.” Enzo gestured at the yellow road sign warning of an upcoming curve.

Panetta hesitated then, mumbling another curse, but Enzo blocked him out, listening only for the distinctive click that signaled the cuffs were securely fastened.

Satisfied, he climbed back into the van. Sarah did have an extra set of keys. He found them quickly, and with another look at Panetta, set the weapon down and freed her.

“You good?” he asked as she rubbed her raw wrists.

“I’m good.” She offered a brief smile before scooping up the gun and hopping out. Two hands on the grip, she sighted on Panetta, approaching cautiously. “What’s the next step?”

The agent grinned nastily, using his free hand to wipe the blood off his chin. “Doesn’t matter. You’ve changed things now.”

“What were you planning?” she insisted. The edge in her voice promised violence.

“He shot Munson,” she told Enzo. “Munson knocked you out. He was going to kill you, but Panetta stopped him. Then he killed Munson, left him at the landing site and took off with us in the van.”

Enzo’s brain was still too scrambled to make much sense of things. He pressed a hand to the back of his neck, hissing as his palm brushed the goose-egg at the base of his skull.

“Why?” he asked Panetta.

“You’ll figure it out. Eventually.” The man shrugged casually. “Won’t be in time to save yourselves, though. Things are in motion. You two are dead no matter what.”

Sarah tightened her grip on the gun. “Who’s behind this? Talk now and you might avoid the death penalty.”

Clearly, Panetta didn’t buy that line of reasoning. Metal scraped against metal as he sank down to the ground and crossed his legs.

She flashed Enzo a look. “We need to get out of here.”

“Copy that.” He backed toward the front of the van. “Let’s move.”

Sarah eyed the silent road, then Panetta, then Enzo. “What about him?”

The black part of Enzo’s heart wanted to hit Panetta again, to make him feel the same pain and rage and fear he and Munson had forced Enzo to feel. But Enzo was a Christian. Vengeance was not his to claim.

He stared the man down. “We’ll let someone know you’re here. Eventually.”

“Which is more than you deserve,” Sarah added. “By a lot.”

The man glared at them, shaking his head as if she and Enzo were too sorry for words. “Big mistake,” he said.

Yeah. Probably. But then this whole mission had been a mistake.