HANS: Alliance Series Book Four(47)
CHAPTER 58
Hans
Fucking idiots.
I pull the trigger again, this bullet sinking through the skull of the man behind the wheel of the van.
They’re all fucking idiots.
The morons trying to steal a bus full of people.
The morons who organized this idiotic trip.
A man groans from the back seat, and I turn my aim to put another bullet into his torso. The first two didn’t work fast enough.
Two dead on the bus. Two more that I shot out on the sidewalk. And these two, trying to get away.
Shoving the driver to the side, I reach into the van and put it into neutral.
I toss the empty gun onto the floorboard and take the assault rifle the driver dropped on his lap.
Jogging, I circle back to the bus. I’ve only been off it for thirty seconds, and this ground crew is dead, but more could be coming.
I bound up the blood-stained stairs and lock eyes with Cassandra. The only person who’s standing rather than hunched down.
Did she not hear the fucking gunshots?
From the front of the bus, I point a finger at her. “Sit. Down.”
I don’t have to work to make my tone angry and intense.
I am angry.
I’m fucking pissed that she was this close to violence.
This fucking close to being taken.
Rage boils inside me.
I want to drag her off this bus and leave everyone else to their own fate.
But she probably wouldn’t like that. And since I escalated the situation, I’ll finish it.
Needing to clear the aisle, I grab the dead asshole by his feet and drag him to the top of the stairs, then shove him down them, his body landing on top of his dead asshole friend.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see one of the corporate yuppies reach for a pistol lying on the floor between the seats.
I yank my third throwing knife from my belt and toss it so it lands buried in the floor between the man’s outstretched fingers and the firearm.
“Don’t be fucking stupid,” I snap at him, and he cowers back into his seat.
Now to get everyone to safety.
The bus driver is dead, and he deserves more than me pushing him to the floor, but it’s the best I can do under the circumstances.
Stepping over his body, I climb into the driver’s seat.
The bus is still in drive, and with the van in front of us in neutral, I’m able to depress the gas and push it out of the way.
Now that the gunshots have stopped, people are starting to gather around. And I probably have about two more seconds before someone starts to live stream this shit.
I take a hard right at the light and speed up for a dozen yards before slamming on the brakes.
The people in the seats behind me shout in alarm, but the motion forces the rear door to slam closed.
Nothing about this piece of shit bus is bulletproof, but I don’t need an open back door inviting fucking trouble.
My foot moves back to the gas, and after we’ve gone a few blocks, I turn again.
Toward the US Consulate.
CHAPTER 59
Cassie
Suzanne is wailing loudly in her seat across from me.
I should probably try to comfort her or Bob—who is rocking and crying in the seat ahead of me. But I can’t look away from the man driving our bus.
His head and face are still covered with the ski mask, but the more I stare at him, the more I try to catch another glimpse of his eyes in the oversized rearview mirror, and the more I’m convinced that the man who just killed several people is Hans.
I swallow.
But how would that even be possible?
Okay, so I’ve felt his muscles. I’ve sensed that edge of danger that surrounds him. Maybe I can believe the how.
But why?
Why would he be here? In Mexico. Specifically in the exact location as me.
The bus rocks around a turn, and a car horn blares, but the man behind the wheel never loses control. He just keeps driving.
I can’t wait anymore.
I need to know.
And I need to… move.
I feel too hot.
Too… flustered.
Too—
Oh god, am I turned on right now?
I start to stand, intending to just walk right up to the front, but the bus swerves, making me sway hard enough that I sit back down.
When I look up, I swear I can see the man under the mask glaring at me through the mirror.
I narrow my eyes, trying to make out the color again. But I’m too far away.
We make another turn, but this time, it’s wide, and we’re driving the wrong way down the street.
A few people let out screams, and I’m tempted to roll my eyes at them. Clearly this man is a good guy—or at least good in the sense that he just saved us. Even if he did do it by killing a bunch of people. He’s not kidnapping us from the kidnappers; he’s rescuing us.
Two of the wheels bump up onto the curb, and then we’re screeching to a stop in front of a large building surrounded by a large fence—I look out my window—with a large American flag flying in the courtyard between the gate and building.
The moment the bus comes to a complete stop, the man behind the wheel rises. “Get inside the fence.” He’s talking to the VP sitting in the front seat. “Tell them who you are.”