Another chorus of moaning came from close by, thankfully behind them. The fire and noise was drawing the infected away.
The ground fell between one line of houses and the next, a sharp decline of more than a story from the top of the fence to the grassy yard below.
“Pass her down to me.” The big guy made the drop then held his hands up for Al.
She gripped the hip-high fence as if a hurricane was causing her havoc, her knuckles white with pressure.
“Al?” Finn stood beside her at the fence and turned her to face him. He pried her hands from the railing and set them on his shoulders instead.
His reaction to the contact was instantaneous. And damn ill timed. His dick stirred, and his heart rate sharpened.
She clutched at his shoulders. In theory, good, neutral territory. He didn’t dare dwel on the scent of her. Getting hard would not earn her trust, and he wanted it. Wanted her to know he would follow through. That she was protected.
“Al? Are you with me?”
She blinked furiously as if she was straining to see him, but her pupils didn’t appear too bad. It was a good sign. “I’m okay.”
“Headache?”
She nodded; a bad idea with a concussion. Her fingernails pricked at his skin through his t-shirt as she reasserted her grip. “I did have some painkillers. We, umm … we lost the packs.”
“I’ve got mine. Once we get out of here I’ll get it sorted, alright?”
“Thanks, Finn.”
One hand remained on his shoulder as she stuffed the handgun down the back of her belt.
“Tell me the safety is on, Al.”
“It’s on.” She licked her lips, visibly straightened her shoulders, pulling herself together. His trail of thought ended at her mouth. Her lips. Christ. He had a job to do.
“Ready?” Finn gripped her hips, steering his mind clear of the fact that several of his fingers wrapped around soft, warm skin. But he could deal with that. The warm, female scent of her got him where it hurt. Burying his nose in her neck was right out of the question.
Concentrating was fucking impossible.
His stomach drew tight, his cock swelled in his pants. Not the time to go there.
“Take it slow.” He held her steady as she inched one leg over, then the other. She balanced on the narrow strip of concrete by the toes of her shoes, fingers digging into his shoulders for dear life. “Give me both hands, Al. I’ll lower you down.”
“Okay.” She hesitated. He waited, long minutes that they couldn’t afford.
“I need you to trust me, Al,” he confessed. “Just like you trust him. It’s the only way we’re gonna get through this.”
“Don’t ask for much, do you?”
“Only what’s necessary.”
Her hands slid down from his shoulders, down his arms. It was the trip of a lifetime, charged with meaning despite his best efforts to keep it simple. He wanted her trust for a myriad of reasons, but he needed it to get the job done.
Her fingers, slick with sweat, met his palms. Gripping was a bitch, but he held on tight, easing her down. She hovered above Daniel’s grasp.
The noise came from his six. A footfal heard too late.
Finn released Ali’s fingers, trusting the man.
The bul et lit bloody fire across his shoulder. He swore, dropped and drew his gun from the holster at his side. A second bullet cut through the air his head had just vacated. Too late. The asshole had had his chance.
No time to worry about noise or positions. Training and instincts took over. Finn aimed for the chest, going for the kill shot.
Once, twice, three times and done. He put the shooter down. One of the assholes he had missed at the supermarket, something he really fucking regretted.
His heart hammered loud. Job done.
The body toppled to the ground in a contortion of limbs. Blood-soaked clothes and gun falling from limp hands. Everything seemed slow, his focus tight.
Getting shot was wel overrated. Blood oozed from his shoulder. It fucking hurt. Al wouldn’t be the only one investing in some of the painkillers in his pack.
Finn moved over to the body, pocketing the man’s weapon. He gave him a quick frisk, took anything of use. An expensive-looking pocket knife and some ammunition. A battered Zippo lighter, mostly full. He didn’t have time to search for more.
His pack slumped to one side, the weight of it pulling at him. The strap, torn by the bullet’s passing, had given way.
He dropped the pack over the fence, then followed, awkward and slow.
Daniel pulled Al out of the way.
The fal jarred his wound, and he cursed more than once. Steady pain bore a noxious beat, turning him inside out. He peeled back the neck of his bloody t-shirt. Every nerve in his shoulder screamed bloody murder, but he had only been winged.
It should have been more spectacular for the amount of pain.
“Have you got something we can tie that off with?” Daniel kept an arm around Al, propping her up. Chances weren’t high she would remain upright much longer.
By the sound of the roar, he knew the bikes were closing in fast. How they could tell a firefight over the bedlam was beyond Finn.
Very in keeping with their current shit luck.