Licensed to Kill

Chapter 33

The fighting that ensued, unlike a large majority of enemy encounters I'd had in the past, would turn out to be an episode I'd remember every detail of for the rest of my life – just like how I vividly remembered every single second of the raid in Washington, D.C. Both nights would be tied together, imprinted in my memory forever.

I was finally going to get justice for Tess, Bristol, and Brian. I was finally going to get revenge for Dallas, Matt, and myself. I was finally on the road to getting closure and recovering – something I'd never before thought could even be possible. All that stood between me and the satisfaction I would soon receive was the task of firing as many rounds as I possibly could into Santiago and Bellucci. There was no room for mistakes. I had to do this right the first time, or I'd probably never get a second chance.

Shouting and pained yelps sounded from the hallway outside the private room, each noise amplified through the earpiece I was wearing. I could hear every huff and gasp from Dallas and Matt as they fought off each of the drug lords' bodyguards, and it didn't seem to be slowing down any time soon. I was starting to worry that our combatants had reinforcements who had flooded into the club while I'd been performing for our foes. It was taking longer than I'd expected for Dallas and Matt to overcome the drug lords' minions. I wished like hell that I could see what was going on in the rest of the club and how many bodyguards they still had to fight off.

"Sounds like your little friends are being beaten at their own game out there," Bellucci laughed despicably and eyed my revealing clothing with a lustful look that made me want to throw up. "Guess there won't be anyone coming to your rescue, hmm?"

He and Santiago closed in on me, seemingly trapping me in the corner beside the door to the dressing room, and for just a split second, I felt a jolt of fear. That small pang of fear, however, was immediately replaced with a raging desire to make them feel the most excruciating pain they'd ever endured in their lives – right before I ended them.

I spit on Bellucci's face, glaring daggers through him as I spoke. "You're seriously mistaken if you think I need rescuing, you sick bastard."

He let out a deep snarl as he wiped my saliva from his face.

"What do you think we ought to do with this bitch, Enrique?" Santiago asked with a sick, crooked smirk and jabbed the barrel of his gun right under my chin, forcing me to tilt my head up and look at him.

Bellucci flashed a toothy grin, undressing me with his eyes. "I've got a real sweet idea."

I knew exactly what they were thinking of doing, and I was really regretting choosing to play a stripper for this mission, but they were severely lacking in common sense if they thought I was going to go down without a fight... or if they thought I was going to go down at all.

I waited for the opportune moment, just when Santiago was a little too distracted with yanking me by my hair out of the corner. I let him take control just long enough, and then I leaped into action, whirling around with a powerful kick to his groin. His gun went off, shooting the disco ball from the ceiling. It landed on the stripping platform with a loud crash and shattered into a million tiny pieces.

Bellucci lunged for me, grabbing onto my arm and squeezing my gunshot wound so hard, I squealed in pain, but I wasn't about to let him take over.

I threw punches and kicks and hurled my body into every acrobatic stunt I'd learned during my ten years of being an agent, but no matter how many times I beat them off, Santiago and Bellucci just kept coming right back. I was running out of energy and it was becoming difficult to catch my breath, but I couldn't give up. I had to do this.