Things were looking up. Sean’s wrists were once again tied behind his back, but with rope, which provided more pull. The lethal weapon presently at his disposal was his geekiness. Pair that with the element of surprise and it was lights out for the three men leading them down the narrow staircase. Underestimating him would be their demise.

A simple dropkick in this enclosed space and the two men in front of him would tumble like dominos. Unfortunately, Gretch was directly in front of them. She’d end up at the bottom of the broken-necked heap.

Sean’s heart beat steadily despite the Dead Man Walking journey they were on. All he had to do was keep a sharp eye out for the next opportunity.

One by one, they rounded the tight landing leading to the ground floor where the bakery was located. Out the window the sun had set, and a lamppost shone weakly. Sean paused, searching for anyone out there, but the back alley was empty. Victor prodded him from behind, and Sean descended the last set of stairs. Enticing aromas of buttery cake, cinnamon, and nutmeg drifted up. He was thirsty and famished enough to sell his vegan soul for any of it. In the distance, a television played a news channel loudly.

“…updating our breaking story. A pipe bomb went off in the warehouse district. There are an unknown number of casualties at this time…”

The hair on Sean’s neck prickled. They’d both heard and felt an explosion a few hours ago in the attic. Clearly the FBI had shaken trees, and Adyton was carrying out his threat. But a warehouse? Adyton had made it sound like the bombs would target areas with potential mass casualties, like a theater or a park.

Gretch reached the bottom and stumbled, hitting the wall with her shoulder. Sean turned his head to the side and spoke to the nephew. “She needs to eat and drink.”

“She won’t be hungry or thirty for long. Don’t be giving me no orders, homie.”

Homie. Victor had grown up in the belly of America, yet taught to hate the customs and culture he took from willingly. It was all so fucking senseless.

They reached the bottom and clustered near the back entrance, where they’d come in this morning. Victor pointed to the doors. “When we open these, you’ll walk directly to the minivan. If either of you draws any attention, we’ll kill you out there. Which would suck for my family’s businesses, and I’ll make sure you suffer. Got it?”

Gretch nodded. Sean stayed silent and alert. One of the men stupidly had his gun stashed in the back of his jeans. The other guy, Black Hoodie, held his too loosely. Victor, however, gripped his 9mm tight as he pushed on the door. Cool air blanketed the crowded space. A car horn blared in the distance, answered by a longer, high-pitched one.

“Move out.”

The two men flanked him and Gretch closely, and Victor brought up the rear. Anyone looking out the window wouldn’t notice two of the cluster had their hands tied behind them.

A dark minivan’s passenger doors stood open, displaying two rows of tan back seats. Victor guided Gretch up front and loomed in her doorway, buckling her so slowly Sean caught the clear stiffening in her shoulders.

“Don’t you worry, sweetheart.” Victor tugged on the seatbelt. “You’re not dying anytime soon. We plan on having a whole lotta fun with you first.”

“Fucker!” Gretch tried to head-butt him, but he lurched to the side. She got a fumbling kick off, which caught him in the thigh. Victor whispered an obscenity, and a resounding slap rent the air. Gretch cried out in fury. The two other men pushed Sean toward the side door.

He gritted his teeth. Now! He reverse-pivoted, sweeping the knees out from Black Hoodie, who went down with a surprised oof and a heavy thud.

Sean kneed the second man in the groin, then used the man’s crouched-over position for more momentum to finish him with a front-snap kick to the chin. The man flew backward, bashing the back of his head into the side of the van. He went down in a heap.

Click. Cold steel pressed into Sean’s temple. Victor gripped the back of his t-shirt and slammed him into the van, profanities streaming from him. “Get. The fuck. In!”

Sean stumbled into the van, only to be hauled out, repositioned, and shoved in the far back row. He fell sideways onto the seat. By the time he’d righted himself, Victor was helping Hoodie up. “Where’s your gun?”

The guy wiped his bloody lip. “It slid under the van.”

“Shit. We’re wasting time!” Victor handed off his 9mm. “Sit in the middle,” he spat. “If either of them move, blow their heads off!” He bent over the man retching on the ground. “Sayid! Let’s go.” Sayid waved him off.

Victor spun around, cocked a finger gun at Sean, and pulled the trigger. “You’re so fucking dead.”

Sean grinned, adrenalin pumping energy and focus. He was so ready for this to end. So ready to defend Gretch from gang rape until his dying breath. “Bring it,” he said through his teeth. “Right now.”

Instead, Victor yanked the door handle. As the side door automatically lumbered closed, he jogged around the van.

Black Hoodie gaped at Sean with wide eyes that held a healthy degree of fear. Blood still leaked from the right corner of his mouth. He leaned back against the driver’s seat, the 9mm shakily aimed at Sean. When the driver’s-side door slammed shut and the van light went out, he said in a trembling voice, “Victor, anyone could have seen or heard us.”

“Shut up, Nizar.” Victor peeled out, but when he reached the busier city streets, he drove cautiously, his gaze in the rearview mirror switching between Sean and Nizar.

Minutes passed into miles. At each traffic light, Gretch leaned against her door and stared out the window. Sean fought a smile. Play to your strengths, babe. Ever the magnet for men’s attention, she was clearly trying to signal someone, anyone they passed. Very few pedestrians were out, and the ones who were looked shell-shocked. The bomb… How many people had died? Had the FBI backed off Adyton and the investigation to flock to the scene?

The van turned onto State and picked up speed. Victor blew through a yellow light, and Nizar gasped. “Do you want cops breathing down our necks?”

“We’re on the other side of town now,” Victor scoffed. “The cops are over by the bombing. I could kill these two on the sidewalk and not have a pig anywhere near here.”

Sean’s heart rate picked up. No lucky breaks tonight. The city had been terrorized by a no-name group, and Adyton was counting on ISIS to take the credit.

The van plowed down Milwaukee, only blocks away from the Chinese restaurant he’d brought Gretch to yesterday. God, yesterday!

Sean worked the wrist binds, which quickly broke through the scabs again. But this rope was looser and more pliable than the zip tie, and he was gaining momentum. Not enough for freedom. Enough to slip his arms under his tucked body and have the distinct advantage of being bound in the front. This would open up blocks, chops, and strangulation options.

Struggling into the tuck under watchful eyes and a pointed gun, however, wasn’t optimal. The bench seat between him and Nizar was the only visual protection he was going to get, and Sean steadily slumped down, working his overly stretched arms around the soles of his sneakers. Where he got stuck. He hid the grimace of pain. If his arms gave another millimeter, his shoulders would pop out of their sockets. He broke out in a sweat and gasped air.

Under the streetlights streaming past, Nizar kept the gun trained on him, but the metal quivered, as did his voice. “You’re doing it, right, Victor?”

No answer. Victor flashed his brights at someone and swerved into an empty lot filled with rows of dumpsters and surrounded by a chain-link fence. A dark form held the gate open and closed it after they’d passed through. Back to three men; two now knew Sean could fight.

The van screeched to a halt. In Sean’s compromised tuck, he rolled off the seat. Using the momentum of his fall, he wrenched his arms the final bit, grunting from the shock of pain in his shoulders. His left knee smashed something metal on the floor, and stars burst before his eyes. He snaked his stiff arms up the front of his body.

“Where’d he go?” Victor’s voice held deep suspicion.

Before Nizar could glance over the seatback, Sean hauled himself up enough to stick his chin between the headrests. “Learn how to drive, douche.” His voice was weary with pain. The hunger and thirst made his muscles quivery and weak. He had no time for this!

Victor snapped his gaze to his friend, jaw twitching. “Yes. To answer your question. You better fucking believe I’m doing this.”

The guy outside yanked the passenger-side handle, and the heavy door lumbered open. The interior light blinked on. The overpowering stench of refuse and mildew wafted in. Sean swallowed his revulsion and braced his aching shoulders. His glance skimmed the three terrorists and landed on Gretch, awkwardly turned in her seat to see if he was okay. He quirked a brow, something that usually annoyed the hell out of her, and her eyes filled with tears.

“Leave her here. She can watch.” Victor unbelted himself and slammed out of the vehicle.

This was it. Adrenalin kicked in. Before two men became three, Sean dove forward, knocking the barrel of the gun with his bound wrists. It clattered to the floor. He encircled Nizar’s head and yanked him into the headrest dividing them, then heard and felt the man’s nose crack, followed by a shrieking howl. Using the momentum of his grip, he swung his right heel up, connecting to the new guy’s Adam’s apple as he leaned in the doorway. The guy flew out into the night.

“Squirm out of the seatbelt, Gretch,” Sean said, panting. “We’re about to book.” He squeezed to the open door and launched himself at Victor, coming around the backside. The surprise on the bodybuilder’s face was priceless. Sean body-slammed him to the ground. Victor’s breath wooshed out just as Sean’s injured kneecap struck asphalt. He roared in pain and gasped breaths, trying to regroup from the white-hot agony. The stench of putrefying refuse and Victor’s body wash were all over him now too. Sean’s stomach heaved. He squeezed his eyes shut, but the stink was overwhelming. His brain went on overload, dissecting the layers, strongest first. Sour milk. Decomposing rodent. Mildew…

“Sean!” Gretch screamed. “Sean, get up!”

He rolled off Victor and opened his eyes. Stars twinkled. Feces. Hopefully dog. He had precious seconds left to get up. Rotting fish. Standing meant he could strike, block, or kick. If he lay here obsessing about smells, he’d end up in a wrestling match with useless hands and a bum knee. Victor’s sweet-woodsy wash…no. More syrupy than sweet. And a hint of something dark, like tobacco. No. More like…

“Sean!”

Shut. It. Down. Gretch’s life is on the line!

Sean sat up and shook his head violently. Clarity prevailed. No way would he allow himself to die here in a lot filled with decaying garbage. He scrambled to his feet, and his leg buckled, knifing pain through him. “Shit.” Shifting his weight onto his right leg, he limped toward the open passenger door. The 9mm lay on the floor.

Two feet away, Nizar sprawled across the middle row, wailing and wiping the gushing blood from his swollen nostrils. He silenced when he registered Sean’s focus on the gun. Victor rolled onto his knees. The new guy remained on the ground, back heaving as he gasped for breath. A sedan slowly drove by, but turned the corner.

Fighting fair was out the window. Just as Nizar reached for the pistol Sean lunged and grabbed him off the seat, hurling him, WWE-style, into Victor. They both collapsed in a heap. Sean hobbled over and opened Gretch’s door. Thankfully, she was out of the seatbelt as instructed, but her hands were still behind her; she wouldn’t be able to defend herself or hold the gun if need be.

Sean whipped the 9mm off the floor and aimed it at the bodies on the asphalt. “Get up,” he snarled. Victor climbed slowly to his feet. The other two remained conscious but were clearly down for the count.

Sean felt more than saw Gretch’s presence by his left shoulder. “Untie her,” he ordered, limping over to Victor and sticking the barrel to his temple.

Within seconds, Gretch’s rope fell off, and she untied Sean.

“You think you’ll get away with this?” Victor sneered. “My great-uncle will burn this city down.”

“I’m betting his blood tie is stronger than his mission. Your life for millions of Chicagoans? He’ll trade.” Sean waved the gun at the three men. “Gretch, get one of their phones and call nine-one-one.”

“Let me just do this one thing,” Gretch answered, turning to Victor, lips curled into a snarl. “This is for Dwayne.” She hauled off and slapped the bodybuilder so hard he staggered. Before he could recover, she grabbed his arm and snapped him over her shoulder. His body thudded onto the asphalt. He let out a long groan and lay still.

“That was beautiful,” Sean said. Victor had over a hundred pounds of muscle on her, and she’d taken him down like a pro. “Great form.”

She bowed with a smile. “Thank you, Sensei.” A quiet confidence came to her eyes. A true sense of control. No man would ever successfully mess with her again.