His own shot flashed past her, missing her. And her shot hit him.
But not how and where she'd hoped.
Because Rodic, too, had started to move aside to evade her bullet. He'd started to twist and duck to get out of the path of her shot.
And because of that, the bullet that had been meant for his shoulder caught him squarely in the head.
In an instant, it punched into his forehead. In an instant, eyes still open, he slumped to the floor even as Cora leaped forward.
"No!" she hissed. What kind of bad luck was that? She hadn't meant to kill him. Her plan was to get some answers. But now, it was too late. He’d jumped directly into the path of her damned bullet. She couldn't undo what had already happened.
She didn't even bother checking for a pulse. This gun was powerful, and it had blown an exit hole the size of her fist. He was gone, slumped half off his chair, collapsed against the wall in a pool of his own blood.
Cora took a deep breath, her mind racing. She needed to find something, anything that could help her in her mission. And she needed to do it fast because there were others in the house, and although they’d made a plan to try to delay the inevitable, she knew there would be people arriving up here soon.
Cora slammed the door. Threw the latch.
She bent down and picked up Rodic’s gun, which was on the floor near his body. She stuck it into her belt. Now she was all the way back up to two stolen guns.
Then, she waited for the diversion.
She knew that Gabe would have heard the shots and would be ready to create a distraction, to divide the forces so that not everyone came rushing upstairs after the gunshots. That would buy Cora some time.
One, two, three. She counted the seconds off in her mind.
And then, the explosion of glass came from below. Gabe had thrown a rock through one of those mirrored downstairs windows. He worked as hard as he could to cause maximum shock value so that everyone in there would now think that downstairs was as big a priority. That someone was breaking in.
Now, Gabe needed to get away, to lay low. That was the plan.
She had Rodic’s laptop. Was there anything else in the room that could help? She looked around. A cardboard folder on a shelf. She'd take that. And in these drawers? She yanked the top drawer open. It was locked, but the lock was flimsy, and it ripped away under her grasp. Inside was a wad of hundred-Euro notes. Spoils of war, which she'd give to any women she found imprisoned here. She shoved them into her pocket. Then, while the laptop was open, she quickly deactivated the security. This wasn't her area of expertise, and she needed to move fast because already there were feet on the stairs and shouting voices coming her way. They'd realized the downstairs noise was a distraction, and now they were coming back up. Coming for her. Well, now she was ready to face them.
She closed the laptop, shoved it into the bag by the desk, zipped it up, slung it over her shoulders.
Then, she moved to the door, a gun in each hand. She was going to shoot to kill, and she was going to take down as many of these lowlifes as she could.
She threw back the latch, burst out, and took the first man straight in the chest, just as he raised his own gun. He fired, but the shot went wide, thudding into the wall, sending a shower of plaster down. And then, he folded down onto the floor. The second one was behind him, and he got a bullet in the head just as his own shot crashed into the ceiling. The third one was behind both of them, on the narrow stairs. He didn't wait around but turned and ran.
Cora shot, but he'd already vanished, and only his frantically retreating footsteps could be heard. There might be security outside, people lurking nearby undercover. They would now be homing in on the place.
Rushing downstairs, she checked every door, slamming them open, kicking them wide. There were several rooms with beds, but none were occupied. No women were here. They were obviously all elsewhere, all at the brothels, being forced into their working job by these monsters.
And no other men were here. They'd caught this hellhole on a quiet night. The one who'd run had gone.
Cora stormed downstairs and burst out of the front door.
She nearly tripped over an unconscious guard, lying face down on the ground, with Gabe standing over him.
She felt a flare of pride and appreciation for her partner's quick-thinking tactics.
"You okay?" he asked her. "This guy was on his way in. Thought I'd stop him."
"You did great, and I'm okay," she said. "Let's get the hell out and see what we can find."
They rushed down the alleyway, but as they went, the strangeness of the scenario was nagging at Cora's mind.
The lack of women, the lack of personnel. The feeling that this operation was not running at full speed, that something was amiss. She'd gotten that strong impression while she was in there, but there hadn't been time to think about it.
And the way Rodic said to her, "You, again?"
