“I’m afraid that’s not going to happen and you’re in no position to barter here. You’re cornered with no place to go and I guarantee that we can outlast you.” Stocky poked his head over the small island in the kitchen. The lantern on the counter shone on a portion of his angry face. “I’ll consider leaving the woman be if you give up Jessie, but you and your little girlfriend are going to pay for that stunt at the house. That, I cannot let slide.”
Jessie palmed his wounded thigh. He clenched his jaw, spit pushing through his gnashed teeth. “They’re going to kill me when they find out I don’t have their stuff.”
I skimmed over the front of the loft for another exit, turned, then looked at the back wall. “Is there another way out of here?”
“Yeah.” Jessie pointed behind him toward the corner at the back of the loft. “There’s a fire escape under that window that leads down to the alley. That’s the only other way out of here.”
“Can you move?” I asked, looking at him, then over to Stocky and his men.
“It hurts like hell. Not sure how much pressure I can put on it or how well I can move,” he replied, scooting across the floor.
Stocky and his men advanced, staying low and not giving me a clean shot. They crept across the loft, weapons trained in our direction.
“This is a limited time offer,” Stocky said. “It’s now or nothing.”
I popped off a few rounds near each of them. They dove for cover. “You got my answer.”
“And you have mine,” Stocky replied.
I kept the Beretta trained toward the entrance, then glanced at Jessie. “You’re going to have to suck it up and move if you want any sort of chance to make it out of this alive. If you want to stay and get tortured, then that’s your bit, but I’m leaving.”
“All right, fine.” Jessie used the brick wall to help him to his feet. He grumbled in pain as he fought to pull himself off the floor. I stayed low, backing away behind him as he limped toward the corner.
Stocky’s goon near the table opened fire at me. I ducked, rolled out of the way, then returned fire. The bullets nicked the top of the chair, splintering the wood.
A thud hit the floor behind me. I peered over my shoulder, finding Jessie face first on the ground and not moving.
Shit.
I checked his neck for a pulse, but found none.
“Jesus Christ,” Stocky said, shouting at his men. “What did I say? We need him alive, not dead you dim-witted idiot.”
A report sounded from the entryway, followed by the thump of something heavy hitting the floor. I flinched, then turned toward Stocky and his men, spotting him and only one other gunman left.
I stood, fired, and bolted for the corner at the back of the loft.
Stocky and his man held their positions for a moment, then returned fire. “Go. Move out now. We can’t let him escape.”
Both men stood and gave pursuit with weapons trained in my direction. I popped off two more rounds, then skirted the edge of the brick wall.
The bullets punched the masonry brick in my wake, chipping chunks off that crumbled to the wood floor. I limped my way down the dim corridor, spotting the railing of the fire escape through the large window. I pulled the mask out of the coat and slipped it back on.
The heavy footfalls drew closer, hammering the planks behind me. I trained the Beretta at the corner. My free hand worked the locks of the window.
“Give it up, pal,” Stocky said, from the other side of the wall, “and I’ll consider giving you a quick death.”
I fired at the sharp edge of the brick while unlatching the locks. I pushed the heavy window up. Ash blew inside the loft, gathering on the floor around my feet. A gush of cold wind rushed me. I ducked and stepped out onto the fire escape.
Stocky poked his head around the corner. I fired another round while on the move, making him pull back. His man stormed around the wall with his rifle shouldered and trained at me.
My foot caught the windowsill, tripping me up. I fell to the fire escape. The side of my head slammed the steel railing, rattling my brain. I rolled onto my back, palming my skull.
Black Coat shuffled down the hallway with his rifle trained out the window at the fire escape. I blinked, trying to erase the blurred vision. I fired at the window he ran in front of. Each round hammered the glass, busting through to the other side.
A round caught him in the shoulder. His body twisted, then spun around. He fell.
I shook my head, grabbed the railing, and got my feet under me. My legs wobbled. The world spun as I made my way down the stairs, one step at a time.
My body rocked from side to side. The wind rushing me and the sight of being off the ground made me nauseated. Acid burned the back of my throat, but I kept it down.
I hit the second to the bottom step before the landing, ready to lose my balance. The fire escape vibrated under me. Heavy footfalls pounded each step, closing in fast.
Stocky tackled me from behind. I fell forward and hit the landing. The weight of his body crunched against mine. The Beretta popped free of my hand and dumped over the side to the pavement below.
He grabbed my shoulders, then my arm, yanking me onto my side. I threw an elbow, smashing the side of his
