“She’s nearby!”

Sherri smiled a little. The guy didn’t know how right he was. She was by no means as dangerous as a fully trained SEAL, but she wasn’t chopped liver, either. She watched for a way to tip this stand-off in Griffin’s favor.

“We will take you to her!” the Russian called.

Liar. Don’t believe him, Griffin, she thought hard.

Dammit, he continued forward.

She scanned the valley, trying to spot where the Russians were hidden. The voice shouting at Griffin was coming from across the narrow chasm. She spotted a man-sized shadow off to the shouter’s left. Which meant there were probably two guys beneath her somewhere. She carefully slid a little further forward, watching for the slightest movement, but nobody even twitched beneath her.

As Griffin approached the truck, Sherri recognized his hair-trigger readiness in the relaxed way he held his body. She also recognized an atypical thickness through his torso. He was wearing some sort of body armor. Thank goodness.

Without taking her gaze off him, she fished in the cloth bundle at her side, finding and gripping the piece of steel she’d taken from the bed frame. It didn’t have a sharp edge, but it had a nice heft and made for a decent improvised weapon. She eased it clear of the bundle.

Catlike, she shifted her feet beneath her by slow degrees, rising by inches into a tightly coiled crouch.

And just in time, for all of a sudden below her holy hell broke loose.

Chapter 23

Griffin saw the guy on his left at the last second before the bastard jumped him, and managed to duck the guy’s open arms, slipping under the bear hug. But then another guy was on him from behind, grabbing him around the waist. Griffin threw his elbow back, and the point of it connected hard with something bony on the guy’s face.

A grunt, and the arms around his waist loosened. But not before the first attacker got in a wicked throat punch that doubled Griffin over, coughing and gasping for air. Two more men closed on him from his right.

Not good. These guys were fast and knew what they were doing in a fight. He didn’t stand a chance four on one. But he fought anyway, kicking, punching, ducking and dodging, doing his level best to avoid being wrapped up in someone’s arms.

The last two guys reached him, and it was a free-for-all. The good news was no matter what direction he threw a kick or punch, he struck someone. The bad news was they were landing several blows for every one he delivered. They figured out pretty fast that he had on a Kevlar vest and changed aim, going for his head and limbs.