Page 93 of Surge
But he roused, shook his head, dazed as he climbed back to his feet.
Thank You, God!Able to breathe again, she marveled as her four-legged hero whipped around to once more face and take on Rashid. Head down, he bared his teeth in a low snarl.
She really wasn’t sure who was more determined to kill the other. Her bet was on Surge any day of the year. She rounded to face the bald man too. But what could she do? She had no weapon—her gaze drifted to the rock nearby.
Rashid clenched and unclenched his hands.
In a real battle, you have to flip on a combat mindset, Garrett had taught her. But she had no idea how to do that. Not in this situation.I don’t know how to get out of this, God.
Eyes fixed on her, Rashid stomped toward her, his bloody arms at the ready.
She took a step back and felt the press of the container digging into her shoulder blades. Shoot.
The train banked around a curve, jerking all of them—even the rock. It didn’t seem Rashid had seen it or noticed her. He was now locked onto Surge and his now-bloody canines.
She dove for it and felt heavy weight crash into her spine, knocking the air from her lungs. Her fingers coiled around the rock.
Rashid drove a punch into her side and blinding pain erupted.
“Augh!” Arching her spine against the agony, she felt and heard the vicious snap of Surge as he careened into Rashid. The two battled and she worked to free herself from beneath Rashid.
She twisted around. Reared back and, with all her might, brought the rock down on Rashid’s head.Crack!
With a moan, he dropped to the ground and went limp.
But her military working dog was ticked. With a snarl, he dove in for another lock.
“Surge, out,” Delaney said, holding her stomach. The sickening crack of stone-on-skull had made her want to vomit. On all fours, she breathed deep, eyed the terrorist.
Unconscious.
Sothatwas Plan D.
She pulled Surge into a hug. “Thank you, boy.” She kissed his silky, narrow skull. As she hugged him again, she noticed something rocking on the train floor, bumping into a container.
A radio. She bent toward it—but the whirring vibration of the train and the high speed seemed to pull the radio beneath the pallet slats. Shoot.
Time to move. She turned to her Malinois and slid her hands over his sleek fur, half to inspect him for injuries—none—and half for the reassurance she found in him. “Okay, boy. Stay close. I need to make sure . . .” Nerves quailing, she inched toward the prone form. Avoided the halo of blood around his head and focused on the body. Lowering herself into a crouch, she reached toward him. Pressed her hand to his side. Felt no rise or fall. That’s when she spotted the weapon holstered at his side. And the black grip of a gun. She slid it out of the leather brace and stuck it in her jacket pocket. She wasn’t trained in firing weapons, but at least he couldn’t use it against her if he suddenly resurrected.
Surge snuffled away . . . at blood around Rashid’s head.
“On me, boy,” she said, drawing the sleek, powerful Mal to herself. No idea what to do next or where to go—she did not want to stay here with a dead body—she struggled. Buried her face in Surge’s fur. “We need Garrett here, don’t we, Surge?”
Mercies, how badly she wanted him here. His arms around her. To hear him say that perfect phrase that would make everything better. Or at least not terrible. “I really need him.” Her stomach twirled, bringing a startling realization. “I’m in love with him I think . . .”
Surge huffed.
“I know, I know. You’ll be my first love . . .”
Another huff.
Delaney tousled the top of his head. They really did need Garrett. Surely he was already on the way, right? She pulled out her SAT phone. Did they even have service yet?
A clank came from the car ahead. Was she hearing shouts?
Oh no.
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