Free The Fires of Atlantis (Purge of Babylon, Book 4) by Sam Sisavath

she had over a man, when it came to hand-to-hand fighting, she was still shorter, smaller, and weaker than her opponent. Girl power be damned, she would rather have a weapon.
    Gaby glanced down at her watch: 7:36 a.m.
    More than twenty minutes since the sun rose over the tree lines (“first light”) and bathed the town in a welcoming orange glow. To look at it, you wouldn’t know L15 was a town built on lies and desperation—
    Voices, coming from the hallway outside.
    About time.
    Gaby slid closer to the door, leaving just a foot of space between her and the hinges, the doorknob on the other side. She was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, with socks but no shoes. Josh hadn’t responded to her requests for shoes. Just another way to control her, to keep her at his mercy. He was good at that these days.
    “Already?” a male voice said. Mac.
    “I gotta go do something after this,” a soft female voice answered. Milly. There was a hint of anxiousness. Gaby hoped Mac didn’t notice.
    “Like what?” Mac said.
    “What do you care?” Milly countered.
    “Don’t be a smartass.”
    “I’m just saying, if I don’t give her her breakfast now, I won’t be around for another couple of hours. Peter’s got me busy today.”
    “Okay, whatever,” Mac said. “Hurry up.”
    The familiar sound of the deadbolt sliding, then the doorknob turning. A second later the door opened, followed by something hard and plastic clattering against the floor. She recognized the sound. It was one of the food trays.
    “What—” she heard Mac start to say a split-second before Milly backpedaled through the open door, fumbling with a handgun in her small hands.
    Oh, hell, this is the plan?
    Mac was moving quickly through the door after Milly, reaching one hand out toward her. “Give that back to me, kid. What are you doing? Are you crazy? Give that back to me!”
    He was so concerned with Milly—no, about his gun in her hands —that he didn’t do his usual due diligence. He didn’t look around to make sure she wasn’t lying in wait for him.
    Now now now!
    Gaby pushed herself off the wall and had gotten one step toward Mac—the sound of her bare feet pulling Mac’s eye away from Milly and over to her—but neither one of them managed to do anything before a fourth body slammed into Mac from behind. Arms snaked around Mac’s waist as the new figure’s head buried itself into the small of the guard’s back. The whole thing was so awkwardly executed that Gaby actually found herself staring in astonishment.
    Mac let out a loud surprised grunt as he was thrown forward by the surprise attack. He slammed into the wooden footboard of the bed with his stomach and bent over awkwardly at the waist, the AK-47 slung over his shoulder swinging wildly around him. He attempted to right himself when the other man hit him in the back of the head with a brown maple wood rolling pin, swinging the kitchen object like some kind of hammer, and thwack!
    Another burst of pained sounds sprung from Mac’s mouth as he slumped forward again, his body draping over the bed’s footboard. The attacker staggered back, gasping for breath, while Milly stood nearby holding the handgun, looking impossibly frightened.
    Gaby took a step forward and the attacker whirled on her, rolling pin rising to strike. Gaby ignored him and made a beeline for Mac. She grabbed the AK-47 and pulled it free. A small pool of blood had clumped at the back of Mac’s head, and he didn’t fight her as she took his rifle away.
    The man and Milly were looking at her, their labored breathing filling the room as if they had just run a marathon. The man was in his mid-thirties and tall. He wore slacks and a T-shirt, but what got her attention was the Garfield apron around his waist. He opened his mouth as if to say something but ended up just sucking in more air instead.
    Gaby held out her hand to Milly and the girl anxiously gave up the handgun. It was an automatic, almost entirely stainless