There was a flash of annoyance as Rico threw himself into the curtains, out of the guards’ sightlines. The stop and start of the conveyer belt had bought him some time, but he estimated he had less than a minute to get to Jett before the blade sliced him in two. He knew he hadn’t loosened the ropes enough to free Jett.

His shoulder hit the ground, rolling until he popped to his feet. He came face to face with the strange ladder he’d seen backstage, the mirrors flashing in the lights from on stage. In its reflection, he could see the security men racing through the tall curtains, mouths working as they tried to hear one another.

Rico knew he had to deal with the men quickly. Every second he spent trying to get rid of the guards was a second less he had to free Jett. They were civilians, which meant their training was nowhere near as good as his, but he ran the risk of injuring them. For a moment, he considered the risks and decided injury was better than killing them. If injuring them meant saving Jett’s life, Rico would consider it a fair trade.

The first man came through the line of objects and Rico caught him in his outstretched arms. He swung the man around and sent him flying into the nearest prop. The prop turned out to be one of the boxes Jett was locked in, and it was far harder than Rico remembered it being. He didn’t need to hear the sound of the guard’s faceplant into the box, feeling the sudden jarring stop of his body run up Rico’s arm. That was apparently all it took, as the man slumped limply to the floor in an unconscious heap.

The remaining two guards, who Rico recognized as the original pair, came through the gap together. Their arms were up, stun guns aimed for Rico. Their eyes darted down to the third guard, out cold on the floor beside Rico, and they began shouting. Rico snorted, unable to hear their words but knowing exactly what they wanted. His eyes shifted over their shoulders and he watched the box making its slow but inevitable way closer to the saw.

Rico darted his attention between the two of them, making a quick assessment of which of them was the most trigger happy. Before they could advance, Rico rushed toward one of them, feinting in the opposite direction toward the second guard. His prediction had been spot on, and the initial guard fired the stun gun in a sudden panic to keep Rico off him. The second guard had been steadier, but his hesitation cost him as Rico barreled into him, hand closing over the gun, ripping it out of the guard’s grasp.

With both guards unarmed, Rico took a moment to take hold of the guard beneath him by the head. Rico pushed, taking the unbalanced guard down to the ground. As they came down, Rico brought the guard’s head up and slammed it down sharply. His motion was quick but measured, knowing what amount of force to use to disable the man for a few minutes without causing any long-term damage. Rico felt a wash of pity and regret as the man’s eyes rolled back and he slumped, unmoving beneath him.

Without hesitating, Rico brought the unused stun gun up and aimed it at the remaining guard. It was easy to feel bad for the poor man as he looked at both of his companions, brought down in a matter of seconds despite the odds being in their favor. Rico made a mental note to get the names of the men later, if only to buy them a few drinks for their trouble.

Knowing he wouldn’t be heard over the thunderous music, Rico jerked the stun gun in the direction away from the stage. The guard glanced, first in the direction Rico motioned, and then at the stun gun. Rico shifted the gun, making his point as he curled his finger around the trigger. It was all it took to make up the guard’s mind and he took off, hopping over the unconscious bodies of his friends and out of sight.

Rico thought about tossing the gun aside, but his mind flashed to Riley and he took it with him as he hurried back onto the stage. The blades were still whirling and the box with Jett in it was even closer than Rico had expected. His steps forward froze when he spotted Riley standing beside the box, staring Rico down. She was positioned beside the box in such a way no one in the audience could see her, but Rico could very clearly see the gun in her hand.

Riley cocked her hip, the gun held at her midsection, finger resting comfortably over the trigger. Rico looked between her and the box, quickly trying to find a way to eliminate her while not losing any more of the precious seconds he had left. The smirk on Riley’s face widened into a malicious grin as she nodded, gesturing with the gun for him to step back.

Rico considered how good of a shot she might be. At best, she might be able to get him somewhere in center mass, but he’d been shot before. He could take the bullet and keep moving. The only way she would stop him would be if she got off a lucky shot and brought him down swiftly.

As he stepped forward, a pair of cuffed hands shot out from between the box and its lid. They wrapped themselves up in Riley’s hair and gave a hard yank. Rico couldn’t hear it, but he watched her mouth drop open with a surprised scream. The hand holding the gun flew up, pulling the trigger with a roar Rico could hear even over the music. The shot had gone wide however, and glass rained down as the bullet struck one of the overhead lights.

Seeing his chance, Rico leapt forward, intent on saving Jett before he reached the saw.