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It All Hits the Fan

Tommaso

Stan looked at me. I looked back at him. My heart pounded in my ears. Marino knew exactly what we were going to try to do. He was ready.

And forty or fifty women sat in cages in his basement, to be sold to God-only-knew-who if I didn’t save them. I unholstered my gun and kicked open the door.

A hail of gunfire split the air before I took another step, and I dove out of the doorway. Something squelched as I landed in Hal’s blood. Stan took position on the other side of the door, and as one, we leaned in to divide the target and fired.

Half a dozen men in the room beyond the door, all armed and standing in front of a second door. The room in question looked like a goddamn mudroom, except for the blood and automatic weapons. I clipped a man leaning out from behind a shoe rack in the shoulder, and Stan landed a headshot on the one behind the sink. We ducked back out.

I tightened my bulletproof vest and whispered a prayer that I’d make it home to Paige as I leaned into the doorway
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