More Than Life (7 page)

“More than my life, Mik…”

The words had come from a place in Isa’s heart so deep that before Mik, he’d never known it was there.

The seconds ticked past. Isa heard the tanks and armored vehicles, and knew he had just moments to spare. He retrieved the device he had hidden in his jacket pocket. It was a crude bomb with limited impact, but it was loaded with phosphorous and would serve his purpose. He set it on the ground and set the rudimentary timer. If he could create enough confusion with the white smoke of the phosphorous, he could divert the Serbian troops from tailing Mik to the outskirts of the city. If he was lucky, he could also buy enough time to make his rally point with the agency, but Isa was long past counting on that. Now, he was living for this moment, and this moment alone.

When everything was set, Isa rose to his feet and ran east. His heart pounded in his chest as he doubled back in a loop and his muscles burned, but he’d never felt stronger. He heard a yell behind him as Serbian scouts spotted the lone figure running past their positions. They set off in pursuit, and with achingly perfect timing, they passed Leka’s house as the crude bomb detonated.

The ground shook. Screams and shouts filled the air. Isa struggled to stay in motion as debris rained the streets around him. A quick glance behind gave him a grim satisfaction as he noted the tail of ten men had been cut in half, but it wasn’t enough. The fight wasn’t over yet. Not even close. His fingers closed around his gun. The rumble of a military vehicle reached his ears as his grip on his weapon tightened, and it was his cue to turn around. The Serbians were going to catch him no matter what. This way, at least, he figured there would be less of them to chase Mik and the others.

Isa turned and opened fire. The response was instant. Automatic machine gun fire rattled through the air. Instinct and training kicked in as Isa ducked behind cars and houses, but with just his handgun to protect him, there was no escape. The Serbs were many, and they were everywhere, coming at him from all angles.

Isa counted them as he found his mark again and again. One soldier fell, then two, then three. Blood sprayed into the air as Isa’s bullets tore into their flesh. Answering shots whizzed by his head as he dove into an alley, but he felt relief as he hunkered against a wall. Mik would be long gone by now, he had to be. It had almost been too easy. He’d used himself as bait to lure the Serbs away from the only escape route out of the city, and they had taken it. Too arrogant to let a lone man escape, they had thrown all their firepower at taking him down.

Now to finish the job.

Isa forced himself away from the wall and pushed his body to the limit as the pursuing Serbs closed in on him. Bullets pinged past his head once more as he ran faster than he ever had in his life. He caught a glimpse of the mountains, and for a brief moment, he allowed himself to hope, to hope that he could reach the edge of the city and escape into the forest.

But it was not to be. Hope had been a borrowed emotion from the moment he’d walked into a Belgrade bar and set eyes on the most beautiful boy he’d ever seen, and now it was long gone. He turned into an alleyway and felt the impact of a lucky Serbian shot. He stumbled, and then staggered. Searing pain crippled him and he fell to his knees.

He felt light headed as his blood stained the concrete crimson red. His vision swam. Dazed, he pulled his hand back and stared at the blood that dripped from his fingers. He barely felt the second bullet pierce his arm. Thundering boots filled the alley and he felt rough hands grasp his shoulders. He heard an animal groan as he was forced to his feet.

His limbs felt weighted as his body slumped against his captors. He’d heard it said that even when life ended in violence, death crept up on a man. He could feel it then, seeping into his veins even as his blood oozed away from his body.

Isa smiled as darkness washed over him, and Mik’s face danced behind his fluttering eyelids. His coal dark eyes and inky hair. His boyish grin and smooth, supple body. Isa had been caught and killed, but Mik was safe. Whatever happened now, Isa had won his own war.

Garrett Leigh is a British writer and indie cover artist with a special interest in using the arts as catharsis in mental illness. Currently writing and designing for Dreamspinner Press, Loose ID and Extasy Books, she has a passion for darkly troubled heroes, tattoos and tales of true love that triumphs against the odds…not necessarily in that order. Expect angst, passion and red hot attraction that won’t be denied.