My phone ringing broke into my tormented thoughts. I glanced toward the screen. Kyle. An uneasy feeling pressed against my chest. Why would he be calling again? "Please don't let them be in trouble." I said under my breath as I answered.

I flinched the second I held the phone to my ear. Sounds of fists striking flesh cracked across the line. That couldn't be good. Seconds later, I heard Kyle try to speak, only to have the breath knocked out of him. Clearly my coworkers weren't faring well at the moment.

Dropping my phone into my lap, I floored the gas pedal and did an U turn. Whatever had happened in the past few minutes, if Ryan and Kyle didn't get the upper hand or backup didn't arrive soon... I could hardly stand to think of what could happen to them. The highway patrol could lose two Rangers in under twenty minutes.

I was determined to see to it that didn't happen.

The landscape flashed by. I flinched each time I heard one of my coworkers take a hit, knowing all too well how bad it hurt. "Hang on, boys." I whispered, my sirens on and lights flashing. "I'm almost there." I forced myself to put my phone on speaker and listen, a knife wrenching into my heart with each blow. If Kyle had called me on purpose, maybe he would say something to help me determine what course of action to take when I got there.

With each mile, I was more and more convinced that I would find at least one of their bodies when I arrived. This beating was getting more violent with every passing minute. I could not determine how many criminals there were, but it was obvious there were more killers then protectors in that building. Something that didn't exactly make me feel optimistic.

God, we were going to need more backup.

I hesitated a moment, then hung up the phone and dialed 911. I requested all available units and rattled off the address. By the time I hung up I was pulling down the winding gravel road leading to the plant. Seconds later, the building emerged. Blocking the exit as best I could, I slid to the ground, gently closing my door to avoid making too much noise.

I moved silently to the side of the building, my back pressed against the wall. I shivered. This felt all too familar. Inside, I could already hear the fight my coworkers were definitely losing. I had to do something before somebody got killed.

Carefully, I jumped onto a worn loading dock and opened the door. Storage shelves blocked my view of the room. I listened, my finger playing on the triggerguard. Sure enough, cursing and shouting soon filled the quiet room. That definitely wasn't Kyle or Ryan. Ryan abhored foul language and Kyle had threatened to wash my mouth out with soap a couple of times.

I moved behind the shelves and peered through the small openings. My stomach clenched. Kyle lay unconscious or dead on the ground and Ryan wasn't far from the same. There was no time to wait for backup. Those two were dead for sure if I didn't do something.

I soundlessly stepped from behind the shelf, eyes scanning the interior of the building. Only two criminals were in sight. If I played my cards right maybe I could take care of them without using my gun.

That was a big maybe.

I lightly glided across the building. Firearm raised and senses on high alert, I made my way nearer the criminals. They were now kicking Ryan in the stomach, each blow landing with a sickening thud.

I got as near as possible, my finger on the trigger. It was then I locked eyes with Ryan. I held a finger to my lips, indicating for him to remain silent. Immediately his gaze flickered away in an effort to keep the men from looking my way. I took a couple steps nearer. A quick glance toward Kyle confirmed he was still breathing, but barely.

"Think you've kicked him enough, or am I interrupting?" I failed to restrain the fury in my usually calm voice.

The men pivoted to look at me just as Ryan went limp on the ground. One of them went for his gun. His hand dropped when he saw me plant my finger on the trigger of my own weapon.

"Come to join the party?" The taller one said with a spine-chilling smirk. "You missed a lot of the fun, but better late than never."

I laughed humorlessly and adjusted my stance. "Lay the guns on the floor. And if you try to take a shot at me...well, Sig Sauer will be supplying free body piercing."

"You know, your stupid little friends here made the mistake of thinking they were alone in here," One of the men advanced a pace. "but you didn't make that mistake. You just forget to watch your back."

Before I could process his words, a hand clutched my left arm, tearing my gun from my grasp and spinning me around. A fist connected with my jaw, knocking me several paces back. Blood erupted in my mouth.

God, that guy was strong.

"Okay, princess. Don't move or things could get a bit..messy." The tallest one laughed and leveled his gun at my forehead.

I examined the man who had taken my gun. About 5:10, maybe 170 lbs., thin black hair accompanied by cold, emotionless eyes. He now held my Sig, scrutinizing every detail. "P320?" He asked, his eyes rising to meet mine.

"Yes."

"Sweet. That'll be a nice keepsake." He looked to the criminal holding me at gunpoint. "What are we going to do with her? Same as the others?"

He handed the gun off to his partner. "Naw, too quick. She's the very reason the cops know about us in the first place. I think," He retrieved a pitchfork leaned against the wall and started toward me. "she deserves more of a Jack the Ripper death. What do you say, sweetheart? Ever had somebody shove a pitchfork through you?"

My body tensed. The very second that thing rammed me, it was game over. Not just for me, but Ryan and Kyle, as well.

Think, Taylor. You've got to get that pitchfork away from him somehow. Think hard.

The man moved closer, lifting the tool to throat-level. I glanced around, my heart jackknifing in my chest. I was cornered. My combat knife was hidden inside my boot, but there was no way I would get to it in time. Besides, a knife wasn't good enough. I needed a gun.

Before I could think, I was shoved against the wall, an hand at my throat to hold I in place. I struggled to breathe as the man drew his other arm back, pitchfork in hand. Blood turned to ice in my veins. I shuddered, knowing that by the time our bodies were discovered that pitchfork would be driven deep into my chest and Ryan and Kyle would have bullets in their skulls.

Fighting was useless, if I managed to escape being impaled then I would just be shot. There wasn't a way on earth I was getting out of the this building alive.

I'm so, so sorry guys. I tried.

I closed my eyes, waiting for the pain. Seconds went by. What the he...

A deafening sound sliced through the air. My eyes snapped open, half expecting one of my coworkers had been finished. But instead I saw the criminal who had previously been holding me at gunpoint frozen, his hand over his heart. Blood ran from between his fingers. After several seconds, he collasped, crimson flooding from a hole in his chest.

I grabbed the pitchfork from the man and threw it aside, shielding my face with my arm. Instinctively, my hand wrapped around his elbow, forcing his shoulder out of its socket. He screamed just as I curled my hand into a fist and brought it up under his chin. He staggered backward, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. I straightened my hand and rabbit chopped him. He fell to the floor, unconscious.

I locked eyes with the final criminal. He wasn't armed, thank God. I tensed, my eyes scanning him for any potential weapons. He was clean. I reached for my Sig, only for my hand to close in on air. I muttered a curse under my breath. I've got to stop depending on that stupid gun.

"Looking for this?' My eyes wandered to the floor. My gun lay about twenty yards away, loaded and useless. The man took a step toward it. "Oh, darling. Didn't anyone ever tell you not to play with guns?"

"Who said I was playing?" I moved closer, my eyes darting between him and my sidearm. If I tried to grab it he would doubtless get to it first. He was closer. I inwardly sighed. I would have to fight my way out of this.

I launched herself at the man, catching him off guard. I stepped as close as possible so his blows wouldn't have room to be affective. Fisting my hand, I landed a solid punch to his jaw. His head snapped to the side. I pulled back to strike him again, but he blocked my shot and delivered one of his own. Blood erupting in my mouth...again. I gritted my teeth and chopped his collarbone, knocking him several feet back.

The man darted behind me, his hand rigid. Already anticipating his move, I stepped aside and landed a roundhouse kick to his stomach. He staggered back a step. Curses dripped from his tongue. I didn't let up. Mustering all the strength in my body, I kicked him again, harder this time. I stepped behind him in an effort to get him into a chokehold. He grabbed me by the hair, earning a cry of pain from me, and dragged me over his shoulder, slamming my body onto the concrete floor. I gasped as a kick connected with my ribs, then another.

I swept his legs from underneath him, sending him crashing to the ground. But before I had a chance to get to my feet, his hand tore through my hair. My vision blurred as he slammed my head against the floor, hard. Blood trickled down my neck.

The shock was enough to momentarily stun me, long enough for him to rip a knife from a holster concealed under his shirt. Just as every thing came into focus, nauseating pain erupted from my abdomen. The sound of flesh ripping echoed in my ears. Biting back a piercing scream, I tore the knife from my stomach and tossed it into the floor.

"You're...gonna re...gret that."


© Shelby Pryor