Messiahs, Matt Rogers [best 7 inch ereader TXT] 📗

unison, each going for a separate leg, like they were connected cognitively. King wondered if they were the only pair who’d planned their avenue of attack in advance before stepping into the hall. If one of them went for his legs he could have thrown a knee toward the ceiling, catching him on the jaw, but not when both went for it. They actually got hold of his thighs — two arms wrapped around each leg — and drove him down to the concrete.

Shit.

Sprawling on his back, King grabbed a handful of one guy’s hair and wrenched his head up from where it was burrowed into King’s hip. Then, with his adversary’s face exposed, King sliced an elbow off his back, opening a horizontal cut all the way along the guy’s forehead. Drops of blood rained down on his face but he ignored it, threw the guy off, and made to deal with the second man.

Who dropped a fist into King’s face, crushing his jaw, and King felt a tooth rattle in his gums. It didn’t break off, but it was close.

You’ll pay for that.

He grabbed the guy and rolled over so he was on top. It didn’t take much effort — King outweighed him by fifty pounds. A third-degree black belt on the ground, he slipped into mount position and dropped a fist twice consecutively into the guy’s face, slamming his head back against the concrete, separating him from lucidity.

The very last disciple came up from behind and seized King in a rear naked choke.

Again, it was well executed. The guy had some sort of jiu-jitsu training, because his squeeze was good and his technique was crisp. But again, he weighed a hundred and fifty pounds soaking wet, so King simply stood up and bent over, and the guy was forced to leap onto King’s back to maintain the choke.

King turned around, carrying the guy’s whole weight, lined up his aim, and leapt backwards off his feet, dropping the man’s spine into the closest bench.

The choke came loose and the guy spilled off, hurt bad.

King spun in place and punched him once, twice, three times in the face, then finished the combination with a staggering elbow to the forehead.

He stood up, chest heaving, lungs burning, muscles screaming.

Eleven down.

None up.

94

They only made it to the sacristy entranceway.

Addison got the door open and spilled through, but Brandon was moving deliberately slowly, and it took him a few more seconds to reach the door. By then Alexis could sense the pack of rabid disciples right on her heels.

If she pressed forward, all she’d achieve was taking the standoff to an enclosed hallway with no chance of slipping out an exit.

So she overtook Brandon, grabbed him by the collar, spun him around and shoved the Beretta into his skull.

‘Stop!’ she shouted.

The disciples skidded to a halt. Most of them were up on the altar. One man had leapt down, closing in on them, now only six feet away. Brandon could almost reach out and touch him. His hair was tousled from sleep. He was heavyset, with pale skin and freckles covering his bare arms. He was wearing a wife-beater.

Alexis said, ‘I’ll kill him.’

She pressed the gun harder into Brandon’s head.

The disciple up front smiled. It was sickening.

‘He’s not the priority,’ the man said. ‘You are.’

She felt Brandon tense up, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

She understood.

He’d thought Mother Libertas was everything. He thought he was special. Now he realised he was just a pawn. No one was more important than the Riordans and their demands.

Alexis had faced close to a dozen life-or-death situations now. They were becoming bearable, allowing her to think coherently even at the height of fear.

But now she couldn’t.

Now she just felt sick.

Because Addison was behind her, cowering in the doorway, and if they captured Alexis they’d know that Addison had helped her. The young girl would be tortured and killed, made an example of.

Alexis wanted to vomit.

Then she blinked, refocusing on the altar. She’d taken her eyes off the raised platform to speak to the disciple who’d leapt down, but something had changed in the interim.

There was a sixth disciple in the party.

95

Slater hovered in the back for only a moment, long enough to identify that Alexis was in trouble.

Then he exploded.

Dropped the first man with a massive right hook. Pivoted to the second and kicked him in the chest, sending him careening back off the altar. The guy fell hard, dropping from the platform, and bounced his head off the stone floor. Slater seized the third by the collar and smashed his own forehead into the guy’s nose, snapping it clean, then used the double-handed grip to heave him off his feet and throw him into the fourth man. The fourth guy stumbled back, thrown off but not incapacitated.

Slater only needed a moment of hesitation, though.

He shoved the third guy aside, who was busy cupping his brutalised nose in his hands. He closed the gap and kicked the fourth guy in the calf, making the muscle seize up, and the guy went down on one knee. Slater grabbed a handful of his hair and brought the guy’s face down onto his own knee.

The man who’d leapt down to confront Alexis was the only one left standing.

He was frozen in hesitation, now thoroughly outnumbered.

‘Allow me,’ Brandon growled.

Alexis paused.

Brandon shrugged the gun away from his temple, knowing she wouldn’t shoot. He took a couple of steps forward and pummelled the messy-haired disciple until the man was unconscious. Punches, kicks, knees. They were devoid of competent technique, but Brandon had natural power. When he was finished, he stood over the unconscious man and spat on him.

From the sacristy entranceway, Addison said, ‘What the hell are you doing?’

He looked like a deer caught in headlights. ‘They were going to kill me.’

Addison pointed to Alexis. ‘You were going to kill her.’

‘That’s different.’

‘How is it different?’

He went quiet.

Slater leapt down from the altar.

96

Addison stammered, ‘What’s going on?’

Alexis quickly