The Indestructibles (Book 2): Breakout Read Free Page A

took him down early.
          She reached the small window to the men's room first, slid inside, and jumped into one of the stalls. Kate heard the door creak open and watched Dusty's black biker boots sidle toward the urinals along the wall directly across from her. When he crossed in front of her stall, she shoved the door, kicking off the wall with her full strength. She felt the different points of impact on the other side of the door — nose, teeth, hips, kneecaps.
          Dusty staggered, both legs unsteady from the impact of the door. Kate quietly closed the stall door and punched him in the throat. He tried to call for help, but choked on his stunned and split lips. Blood gushed from a clearly broken nose.
          A quick zap with her taser and it was on to his colleagues.
     
    * * *
     
          "That's a long leak," one of LaCoste's gunrunners said just before the lights went out.
          Kate had rigged the entire warehouse into a psychological battlefield. The lights went off just long enough for the spinning spotlights she'd installed on the ceiling to kick in and start roaming the floor, throwing off any hope of her enemies regaining their night vision. To make matters worse, she'd hung disco balls from the ceiling, just for the added chaos they would bring to the room. And then of course there was the music, death metal screaming at inhumane volume, Kate's own ears protected with plugs.
          The room transformed into hell for people who hated nightclubs.
          Kate launched into action, her ballet of kicks and punches took out each of LaCoste's men. Someone tried to raise a gun but Kate was quicker, throwing a knee at the man's elbow and sending the pistol spinning across the floor from numb fingers. Another flashed a knife, but Kate dodged it easily, deflecting the outstretched arm and planting a knockout blow to the man's temple. She flung LaCoste's steaming Columbian dark roast at someone's groin and followed it up with a kick to the head.
          Finally she landed on the table and faced down LaCoste himself. He never moved, simply sat there watching the chaos as if he were in a bar people-watching. They made eye contact, and LaCoste smiled, showing off the reason why everyone called him "The Teeth," those surgically enhanced incisors loomed like a predatory animal's fangs. He stood up slowly, unbuttoned his suit coat, and held out his arms.
          "I've got no problems with killing a kid," he said.
          Kate answered him with a kick, which LaCoste deflected with surprising ease. She felt his huge hand get a good grip on her ankle and yank her leg out from under, letting Kate slam down onto the plywood table. The table's surface splintered and the barrels holding it in place tipped, sending her sliding to the floor. LaCoste clamped another hand on the same ankle, his fingers locked like vices.
          Kate didn't bother trying to attack him directly. Instead she sent the tungsten-capped heel of her free leg slamming into LaCoste's fingers. Once, twice. She felt his bones cracking. Three times. His grip loosened. Kate scrambled to her feet. LaCoste's face was a grimace of pure rage, saliva ran down his lips from his oversized teeth. He tried to make a fist with his shattered fingers. Kate scrambled to her feet as the mobster charged her. She couldn't get out of the way fast enough and LaCoste slammed into her, knocking the wind from her lungs when he fell on top of her.
          His hands tried to find a way to grab hold and pin her down, but she'd done too much damage to his fingers. She pulled her wrists from his weak grip as he leaned in, his teeth flashed and he lunged for her neck and face. Kate wrapped both hands around his neck, held him back, then pushed a knee into his solar plexus to keep his weight off her.
          "Who do you think you are?" he said, working his jaws like an attack dog.
          Instead of answering, she head-butted him