slice up his girlfriend.”
Fear took hold of her legs. She wanted to run. Thrumburt was a cold-blooded killer. He’d easily pulled the trigger on Campbell just before the crash. She had no doubts he’d do anything to her to obtain the information he wanted.
“What time is it?” Erren asked. Dropping his gaze to her feet. He was stalling. He knew about her weapon. “I just need to know one thing. Which of you dirtbags shot Walter Pike?”
After his smile and laughter, maybe it was the shock of hearing the vehement, hate-filled syllables of the last question that silenced the men. But it didn’t stop them all from looking to the tall man Thrumburt had called Knighton, who stood with a smug look of satisfaction, a grin growing on his face.
Erren had his answer.
While the men had all eyes glued to Knighton waiting for his reaction, Erren dove across the pool of light. His body rolled several times before reaching her feet. She dropped to the ground sending her legs in his direction. He tugged and her right boot slipped off, dumping the 9mm onto the dusty floor.
The men scrambled for cover, shooting blindly. Darby rolled to her knees ready to head toward the exit. She ducked at the gunfire. At least three locations.
“Don’t kill him yet,” Thrumburt shouted. “Idiots, we need the evidence.”
“If you’re okay,” Erren yelled, “can you get that cute little behind of yours in gear?”
She leaped up and darted toward the car, stopping for cover behind a pillar. Erren stopped with her and pinned her back to the concrete, covering her, his hands—and gun—above his head. He couldn’t get a shot off that way, but their bodies were completely connected.
“God, what were you thinking?” His eyes searched her face, landing on her lips. “Did you come to rescue me?”
“I followed my partner, who took off totally on his own.”
He was happy. She recognized the lightheartedness in his undisguised voice. The real Erren had his body pressed into hers. He was the only man she could think of who might be ignoring the rain of deadly gunfire to hold her.
His lips captured hers in a short but hungry kiss.
“Is the cavalry really coming or—”
“They’re coming. But not for at least—” he leaned back and brought her wrists closer to read the time on her watch “—ten minutes.”
“So you aren’t stupid after all?”
Gunfire sounded around them, getting a bit too close for comfort.
“You know we have to make a run for it.” He smiled at her as if they did this every day. Maybe he did. “I’ll lay down cover. Go.”
She heard the bullets zing past her ears as she ran to the car for the extra ammunition in her purse. She made it to the far side of the wrecked sedan and yanked open the passenger door. Ignoring the dead marshal in the front seat, she grabbed the clips and tried to hand them to her partner.
But Erren wasn’t behind her.
AS DARBY RAN TO SAFETY, Erren caught movement to his left and watched Thrumburt racing up the stairs by the far wall.
The second-story offices would give the son of a bitch the perfect shot to take her out at the car. He saw the old metal catwalks for the warehouse and his gut clenched.
“Dammit. You just had to go up,” he muttered.
Brian had ordered Pike’s death, even if Knighton had pulled the trigger. Neither one was going to escape and neither would harm another person he loved.
Loved? It was a hell of a time to come to the realization that he loved Darby. A fast-and-furious relationship so far, but one he could envision lasting a lifetime. “Guess there’s a first time for everything.”
Zigzagging to the enclosed staircase, he wished he had a knife to cut through the plastic around his wrists. His eyes adjusted to the dim light as he climbed, each step harder than the last. The dizziness made his head swim. He didn’t know where the others had hidden or if they were waiting to ambush them. At the top of the stairs he could see Thrumburt ten feet away with a .45 pointed toward Darby.
The solidness under his feet was gone and the only thing left was the warehouse floor far beneath him. He knew there was a metal walkway beneath his feet, but the look down sent his equilibrium seesawing. He had to do this. The bastard was about to shoot the woman he loved. He couldn’t fail Darby. He ignored the openness of the warehouse and concentrated on the solid wall to his right so he could run.
Erren aimed. Fired. Missed.
His hands shook from the vertigo. He’d never hit his target. The shot alerted Thrumburt, who jerked to attention and pulled the trigger.
“No!” Erren screamed, and ran and threw himself at Thrumburt.
They crashed to the metal grate. Erren backhanded the smaller man, but with his hands bound, he was at a disadvantage. He grabbed Thrumburt’s gun hand and knocked it against the grate until the gun fell to the floor below.
Thrumburt punched and kicked, fighting like a boy who was scrambling for his life. With limited hand movement, Erren used his knee and pressed it into the turncoat’s abdomen.
He controlled one of Pike’s killers but he needed to find Darby. Had she been shot or made it out of the building? He looked down, trying to find her.
The view through the metal grate narrowed into a diamond pattern closing in on itself. The room spun. He closed his eyes to block the vertigo and nausea.
“Erren!” He heard Darby’s voice just below him. “I’m coming up.”
Thank God, she was alive.
Thrumburt thrust his body upward and Erren flew forward, his stomach hitting the rail. His knees locked and he couldn’t move. He slammed his eyes shut again and froze.
“OPEN YOUR EYES, COWBOY. I sort of need your help down here.” Darby clung to the edge of the grate, but didn’t have the strength in her arms to pull herself back to the walkway.
Erren was frozen on the handrail several feet from her. He pulled himself backward until he was off the rail and flush against the wall.
“Come on, look at me. I’m hanging by a thread, cowboy.” Dangling in the air, she was a sitting duck for a spare bullet.
Erren’s eyes opened, searching for her voice until his gaze locked with hers. Her Knight Errant fell to his stomach and scooted forward—bound hands in front of him—to hang slightly over the edge until he caught her closest forearm.
“If I had more than
Sweat beaded on his brow and dropped to her shoulder. His strength amazed her as he lifted her up. She locked her fingers around his wrist and swung her free hand on top of the grate walkway. She could hear Thrumburt below them, sifting through debris for his .45.
“Darby, we’re almost there. Pull, darlin’.” Erren’s voice was steady, unlike his arms, which shook with the strain. He lifted, she pulled with her free hand and within seconds she was on the catwalk beside him.
“No time to wait around. Thrumburt’s looking for his weapon and I don’t know where the others have gone,” she informed him, cupping his chin with her hands. “Focus straight ahead and let’s get the hell out of here.”
“I’m fine,” he said, pulling at the plastic around his wrists. “Just how did you cut the zip-ties?”
“Oh.” She pulled an all-utility knife from her pocket and cut him free. “I always carry one in my purse. Left it in the car.” She pulled a full clip from her back pocket. “Along with a change of ammo.”
“We have some bad guys to catch.”
She stood first and retrieved the Glock from the grate, and he followed, a hair of a second behind her.
“Why haven’t they left?” she asked.
“They can’t. Not as long as we’re alive.” He brought her close to him and she drew on his strength.
“That was a bit too close for comfort,” he said softly into her neck. “Try not to fall off any balconies again.”
