Free Breaking Point by Pamela Clare Page B

kind of underworld criminal, but right now he was on her side.
    Heavy hinges squeaked, and boots hit gravel, bringing her thoughts to a halt.
    “ ¡Eh, Diego! ¿Qué demonios estás haciendo? ” What the hell are you doing? A man in military fatigues started across the courtyard, clearly trying to figure out what was taking his friend so long.
    In front of her, Zach silently retrieved the knife he’d strapped to his ankle, still a bit wobbly on his feet. Then he rose to his full height, steadied himself, and with a speed that amazed her, threw it, hitting the Zeta just below the base of his skull, the knife sinking to the hilt.
    The man’s legs turned to water beneath him, and he fell lifeless to the ground.
    Zach held up four fingers, his meaning clear.
    Four Zetas remained.
    Motioning for her to stay where she was, he hurried out into the open and stripped the body of its weapons, including the knife, which he wiped clean on the dead man’s pants and returned to its sheath. When he reached her side, he had two more pistols, one of which he handed to her, the other of which he tucked into the waistband of his pants. He bent down and whispered, “Do you know how to use one of these?”
    She looked at the weapon in her hands. It was heavier than she’d imagined—and cold. “You point it and pull the trigger.”
    The look on his face told her there was more to it than that. “This is the safety. As long as it’s in this position, the gun won’t fire. Flick it down like this before you pull the trigger. Aim for the chest.”
    “Can’t we just hot-wire the car and go?”
    But Zach was already moving, walking on silent feet around the corner and toward the church’s front door. Made of thick planks of weathered wood with iron hinges that opened outward, it had no windows to enable them to see if anyone was standing on the other side—which is why it took her by surprise when it began to swing outward toward them.
    Natalie found herself thrust back against the wall behind Zach, the door concealing them both as it opened. She saw Zach raise his pistol, then heard him swear beneath his breath as two scantily clad young women—prostitutes, not Zetas—stepped outside. They didn’t see Zach or Natalie, but they did see the dead body.
    And they screamed.

CHAPTER 6
    ONE MINUTE THINGS had been under control, and the next they’d gone straight to hell. Two women—girls no older than eighteen—stared at the man Zach had just killed, their screams and incoherent babbling blowing to bits any hope Zach had of taking the rest of the Zetas by surprise. That was the bad news.
    The good news was that the girls hadn’t yet seen him or Natalie.
    “ ¡Está muerto! ¡Santa Madre de Dios, está muerto! ” He’s dead! Holy Mother of God, he’s dead! One of the young women turned toward the door, clearly planning to run for help. She saw Zach—and froze.
    Zach spoke quietly but with enough menace to make sure the women knew he meant business. “ Si quieres vivir, véte con tu amiga al coche y acuéstense. ” If you want to live, you and your friend go get in the car and lie down.
    Brown eyes that had already seen too much went wide, and without another word the girl took her friend’s hand and dragged her to the car, an ugly brown Nissan Tsuru, then opened the back door, pushed her inside, and piled in behind her, their two heads disappearing from view just as heavy footfalls sounded from inside the church—another pair of boots.
    Zach whispered over his shoulder to Natalie. “Get down!”
    She crouched behind him.
    “¡Putas estupidas! ¿Qué problemas les están causando ahora?” Stupid whores! What trouble are you causing now?
    Zach recognized the voice as belonging to one of the Zetas who’d kidnapped Natalie. The bastard stepped out through the open door—an older man with a tattoo of La Santa Muerte on his forearm—and Zach dropped him with a single shot.
    A gasp from Natalie. Muffled screams from the