“At least my car won’t get shot up, then,” John said, quickly peeking and then firing twice over the top of the shelf. There was an answering volley of shots, and Molly flinched, hoping that the wooden barrier would at least slow the bullets down a little.

“Always the optimist,” she muttered once the shooting stopped. Needing to know what was happening, she poked her head up just far enough to see. Lubchek was still down, apparently unconscious, sprawled where they’d left him. She couldn’t see Bastien, but the burly man was very unstealthily sneaking between the shelves toward them. “Bouncer guy who likes punching at three o’clock.”

“Thanks. May I use your Taser for a minute?” John handed her back the gun. Accepting the pistol with one hand, she dug out her Taser with the other. “You’re pretty comfortable with that,” he whispered as he took the Taser from her. “I thought you didn’t like guns.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t know how to use them,” she said. “Now shoo. Go take care of business.”

With a bloody, crooked grin, he rushed at the approaching man. Keeping alert for any sign of Bastien, Molly also managed to watch John take down the burly guy. As she grinned, finding a deep satisfaction in watching Mr. Punch-A-Lot writhe on the floor, a movement in her peripheral vision caught her attention. She turned, bringing the gun up, to see Bastien bearing down on her. Aiming squarely at the center of his chest, she ignored the panicking corner of her brain telling her that she could never kill someone intentionally and pulled the trigger.

Click.

Horror dawned just as he dove at her, bringing her down to the ground. It felt as if a car had landed on her when Bastien’s weight drove the air from her lungs. The empty gun went flying as her arm cracked against the floor. She struggled, but he had her pinned, and no matter how she twisted or tried to turn, she wasn’t able to roll them over so she could get the upper hand. Her right arm was numb and unresponsive, so she swung with her left, but the angle didn’t allow her to get in a solid hit, and her fist harmlessly glanced off the side of his head. She switched from punches to trying to gouge at his eyes, hoping to hit a vulnerable spot, but he grabbed her left hand in his right and wrenched it down to the ground.

His face was grimly satisfied as his free hand wrapped around her throat, cutting off her oxygen. She kept fighting, but darkness started to edge her vision, and panic threatened to overwhelm her brain. All she could see was his stupid, homicidal face, and it pissed her off like nothing else that it was going to be the last thing she saw before she died.

Suddenly, there was a loud thump, and the pressure was gone as Bastien slumped limply to the side. Molly gasped in long, ragged breaths that hurt her throat but still felt incredible. She blinked, clearing the blurry, oxygen-deprived haziness from her vision, and Cara came into clear focus. She was standing over them, a Maglite in her hand and a fierce expression on her face.