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

steel except for a strip of laminated wood along the grip. Smith & Wesson SW1911TA was engraved along the side. It looked a hell of a lot more expensive than the Glocks she had been trained on, and she wondered where Mac had gotten something that fancy.
    “What now?” the man said, his eyes focused on her. She couldn’t tell if he looked disappointed or confused. “Jesus, I thought you’d be older.”
    “Sorry to disappoint you,” she said.
    “I didn’t mean—I just thought—”
    “That I’d be older. I got it. Close the door,” she said to Milly.
    The girl stepped over the plastic tray and the spilled food and closed the door. Gaby grabbed Mac and hauled him off the footboard, dropping him to the floor on his back. Dull, pained eyes stared up at her, but if she was afraid Mac would fight, she didn’t have to be. It was entirely possible he wasn’t even seeing her at the moment. He was alive, if barely, because she could still hear him breathing.
    “What are you doing?” the man asked behind her.
    She didn’t bother to answer him. Instead, she unclasped Mac’s gun belt and pulled it off, along with the holster and ammo pouches. She cinched it around her waist and instantly felt better with the weight. These last few days, walking around without weapons was like being naked in front of the world. The Smith & Wesson slid easily into the hip holster, and though it didn’t have silver bullets in the magazine, it was better than no ammo.
    “How many of you are there?” she asked, busying herself with Mac’s boots. He was a few inches taller than her and she expected his boots to be a little larger as a result, but she was surprised when they fit her as well as they did.
    “Just us,” the man said. “What are you doing now?”
    “Stop asking stupid questions,” she snapped. “You know what I’m doing.”
    Gaby pulled off Mac’s camouflage jacket and slipped it on. It was slightly big around the shoulders, but luckily Mac wasn’t fat. She took off his watch and put it on her wrist.
    “Maybe I should take the rifle,” the man said.
    “You know how to use one of these?” she asked.
    “How hard could it be?”
    “Right. I’ll keep the rifle.”
    She got up and walked over to the door and opened it just a crack. She looked out at the empty second-floor hallway with Milly standing next to her, eyeing her curiously.
    “Where is everyone?” she asked the girl.
    “At work,” Milly said.
    “Work?”
    “Everyone has assigned work details,” the man said. “I work in the kitchen downstairs, and Milly is the server girl.”
    “Hostess,” Milly said.
    The man smiled. “Sorry. Hostess.”
    She glanced back at the two of them. There wasn’t much of a resemblance, so she crossed out father and daughter. Not brother and sister, either.
    “I’m Peter,” the man said, holding out his hand.
    She shook it. “Gaby.”
    “Milly told me. How are we getting out of here, Gaby?”
    She stared at him for a moment. “You don’t know?”
    He shook his head. “We were hoping you might have a plan.”
    “Are you serious? You’re the ones who are supposed to be rescuing me, not the other way around.”
    Milly and Peter exchanged a look.
    “Never mind,” Gaby said. “Tell me about the town. How many collaborators are here?”
    “Collaborators?” Peter said.
    “The guys in the uniforms with guns.”
    “Oh.” He thought about it. “Seven. Four left yesterday, but four more came with the new group of arrivals.”
    “Is that too many?” Milly asked eagerly, still watching her face closely.
    Gaby shook her head. “No. Seven is doable.”
    I hope…
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    T hey were keeping her in a bed-and-breakfast just as she had guessed. That accounted for all the rooms on the second floor. According to Peter, except for her, everyone came and went as they pleased, though the building was reserved for singles.
    Milly and Peter had their own rooms, and they disappeared inside them while Gaby stood watch at the top