"Protect the boss!" one of his guards shouted as more bullets rained down, the sound deafening in the still night.
The driver, clutching his shoulder where blood seeped through his suit, turned to André. "Sir, we need to move. Can you walk?"
André forced himself upright, his head throbbing with every motion. "I'll manage," he muttered, gripping the door handle. His hand brushed against the small drive, and he instinctively tightened his grip on it. No matter what happened, this drive couldn't be taken by others.
The driver pushed the door open and helped André out of the wrecked car. As they stepped onto the street, André staggered, leaning heavily on the man for support. The guards formed a defensive circle around him, their weapons blazing.
"Get him to cover!" one of the guards barked.
