Codename: Nightshade (Deadly Seven Strike Force) by S Anderson

of bullets into the limo. The angle is extreme, moving a good sixty miles an hour with wind whipping in my eyes, but I catch a hint of black hair and a scar on the side of the driver’s bright white neck.
    Little by little, I’ll piece these bastards together. Bit by bit, I’ll figure out how to defeat them.
    I’m taking a flying leap into the dark, but I’m willing to bet these are Russian hitmen that I’m dealing with.
    Great. The only thing more deadly is a ninja.
    Little do these bastards know, they’re dealing with a soldier trained by the best Russian hitman to ever live.
    Pain pierces my heart, and I use it. I let it spread along my veins and numb me inside and out.
    “We’re not going to have much time,” I say.
    “For what?” Marko’s voice is strained.
    I glance down and see a shard of glass wedged in his side. He’s bleeding but not fatally. A healthy dose of fear settles into my bones. “How well can you swim?”
    Despite the situation, his panic, and his pain, he smirks at that. “You were the one ogling me earlier today. You tell me.”
    I nod. As long as we don’t get trapped under the weight of the car, or shot, we’ll be okay. We’ll swim to safety.
    There’s a slight chance that they’ll park the car. That they’ll try to kill us before they toss the limo over the edge into the Hudson. In that case, I’ll try to fend them off and give him time to run. If he can at least get to a populated area, find another car or person with a cell phone, he can call for help.
    Wait… that’s it. A phone.
    “Do you have your phone on you?” I ask. I forgot I left mine back at the hotel and he told me I could use his in an emergency.
    He searches his pockets and produces it. The screen is cracked from all the commotion, but it still works.
    “Who are you calling?”
    “Dominoes,” I say. I dial a number only six other people on earth have access to and wait for the beep. “This is Nightshade.” A loud burst echoes through the cabin as the SUV slams into the left side of the car. The door is bent and mangled—jammed. Shit. “I repeat, Nightshade. I am under heavy enemy fire with a friendly.” Another loud boom as the SUV destroys the right door. We’re trapped inside the car unless we wiggle out the windows. “Follow the coordinates one mile south from this transmission. Possible Titanic in process. All points S-O-S. Come and find me, boys.”
    The limo has slowed speed, and I hang up, ignoring the questions Marko is throwing at me in rapid fire. Police will only get killed. It takes too long to get through to any governmental channels. Too much red tape. Only The Deadly Seven can find us now.
    We pull alongside the edge of the river and stop. We’re a few hundred feet away from any sort of witnesses.
    Great.
    I hear the limo driver get out and see a flash of his gun as he stands next to the limo. He had a gun too. He could have shot us at any time, long before the SUV showed up. Why didn’t he? Who are the guys in the SUV?
    Who’s behind all of this?
    “What do you want?” Marko shouts.
    I know how helpless he feels. I’ve been there. But I can’t let myself fall to fear.
    I’m not giving up hope. It’s my job to keep him alive.
    I slowly start to crawl toward the other side of the car, the side closest to the river. I’m going to climb out. I use the palm of my hand to smash out the remaining glass to the clear the ledge.
    I don’t get any further than that.
    My arm flies through the open window as force propels my body forward. The SUV has rammed the opposite side of the limo and is backing up to ram it again.
    “ Yebat’ ,” Marko shouts.
    The SUV keeps slamming too violently for us to react. I feel the limo slip closer to the edge.
    “I don’t know what they want,” Marko says, panicking as he turns to me. “What do they want to stop this?”
    I don’t have any words for him. I’m done with this leg of the fight. “Brace yourself,” I warn. “It’s going to be