"Holy shit," Guimarães' voice came out as a groan.
"I'm sorry," I stepped over the guy lying on the floor and approached Guimarães. He held his arm, his expression filled with pain.
I couldn't breathe; it felt like someone was stepping on my lungs. I crouched down, placing my hand on my knees, trying to catch my breath.
"Elizabeth. Pay attention."
"I..."
"I need you," Guimarães' voice sounded distant. It was as if I were being strangled again. And this time, no one would save me. "Breathe deeply."
Guimarães' face came close to mine, and he held my cheeks with one hand, forcing me to look at him.
"I..." I repeated.
"Breathe with me," He began to breathe slowly, and I tried to imitate him. "It's okay. It was just a graze. It's okay."
He repeated that phrase several times, and gradually, I managed to match his breathing.
"I'm sorry," I repeated.
"I need you to get my briefcase."
"Your briefcase. Okay," I tried to keep my breathing under control. The floor was stained with blood; I tried not to look.
"It's on top of the wardrobe," He said when he saw me going in the wrong direction.
"Wardrobe."
I climbed onto the chair to reach the top of the wardrobe. I grabbed the briefcase and came down. It was heavy; I had to hold it with both hands to keep it from falling.
"Open it," He ordered when I placed the briefcase in front of him, and I obeyed.
Guimarães took a piece of gauze and pressed it on the wound. Then, he took a blister pack of pills and swallowed two without water.
The guy was still lying on the floor. Guimarães started to make a compressive bandage on the wound, but he was having some difficulty cutting the tape.
"Let me help you," I took the tape from his hand and started to cut.
"Press firmly."
I put the tape over the gauze he had added, applying pressure. Guimarães winced in pain, and I removed my hand.
"Put more tape on," He requested. I did as he asked. We heard some screams from downstairs. Guimarães jumped up. "Let's get out of here, grab the stuff."
He took the briefcase from my hand, and I grabbed his bag. We ran down the stairs. A guy was at the bottom of the stairs and tried to block our path. Guimarães hit him on the head with the briefcase, which was enough to make him release the passage for a second. Another guy was at the reception and shouted when he saw us pass. He had a gun in his hand. Guimarães pulled me to accelerate my run.
I heard the sound of a gunshot behind us. We ran out of the inn and got into the car. I looked back and saw two guys getting into a car hastily.
"Guimarães, they're coming."
"Shit," He grabbed a gun from the backseat and handed it to me.
"I don't know if this is a good idea," My hand was trembling when I held the gun.
"It's just to scare them," Guimarães said impatiently.
I took the gun and leaned out of the window. I aimed and shot at the car. I hit the side mirror.
"Guimarães. I hit it," I laughed nervously. My body was filled with adrenaline, and I must admit that in a way, I was enjoying it.
"Good girl," He encouraged me.
I fired another shot, hitting the asphalt. The guy in the passenger seat leaned out of the window and shot in my direction. I was startled and dropped the gun onto the asphalt.
"Damn it," I cursed and sat back down. The guy fired another shot, hitting the rear windshield. Guimarães pushed me down, forcing me to duck.
He made a sharp turn, avoiding a pothole in the middle of the road, and turned into another street. Guimarães' bandage was bleeding, but I didn't know if it was a good time to warn him.
I looked back and didn't see the guys anymore. Guimarães also noticed; he accelerated to take advantage of the lead we had and turned into another street.
"I think we lost them," He celebrated, turning into another street.
I looked back to confirm. Guimarães abruptly hit the brakes. A car blocked our path in front, and another blocked behind.
"Prado, get down," Guimarães ordered. And then it all happened very quickly; he shifted gears and sped the car down a narrow street I hadn't even noticed. The side mirror broke against the wall of the street, and some shots hit the front windshield, shattering it over me. He made a few more turns before stopping the car. I stayed down, trying not to think about what was happening. "Are you okay? Did you get cut?