I walk up to Skye. Her chest is heaving as she tries to catch her breath, but that’s not the thing that has me worried. What has me worried is the way her hands are shaking and the way she rubs frantically at the inside of her wrist.
“Calm down, Skye.” I reach out, pull her hand away, and rub at her wrist. “Take a deep breath.” I hold her gaze steady. “Inhale. Now exhale.”
Her eyes go wide. She looks down at her wrist, and her face pales. I’m about to ask her what’s wrong, but then she’s snapping out of her trance, pulling away and facing off on me.
“You have to leave.”
“What?”
“You have to leave now. Everyone!” Her voice is loud, and it has me reaching out my arms and bracketing her shoulders with them to stop her from doing anything rash.
“You need to calm down and speak.”
Her chest rises and falls. “He’s coming,” she rasps out between pants.
“Who’s coming?”
“Felix,” she whispers.
“Speak. Now.” My fingers come to her chin, cradling it a moment before forcing her eyes to meet mine. “Speak, Skye.” The command comes out firm but soft. It gets the job done, because she leans into my touch, exhaling.
“We don’t have time. He’s coming. He’s going to hit the building.”
“This building is locked down. Guards are at every post.” Despite saying this, I turn to my men, signaling them to prepare. But it’s too late. Skye is screaming as a large Mack truck comes barreling up the street, over the sidewalk, and rams through the glass and into the lobby.
The sound of tires screeching and glass shattering is followed by an explosion that rocks the building.
Smoke descends upon us. Billowing until I can no longer see. From that moment, it’s anarchy.
We were hit.
Despite every precaution we took, they drove a Mack truck into my lobby.
Gunfire rings out. I should be fighting, but all I can think about is where’s Skye? I move through the smoke. My lungs burn. The smell of burning flesh permeates the air.
Some of my men are probably dead, but right now, I don’t care about that. I need to find her and get her out of here.
It’s hard to see anything. The visibility isn’t even a foot in any direction. I can’t hear, either; the blast took care of that. But I have to move anyway. I squint my eyes, hold my breath, and move in search of her.
The thick air loosens, and a clearing forms. Then I see her. But if I can see her, so can everyone, and the thought of that has me springing into action, lifting my gun, and firing.
A never-ending army pours into the building. One after one, they pile in, guns raised, bullets flying. I take aim, hitting them as they enter. At this angle, I’m like a sniper, picking them off one by one.
Chaos ensues as another bomb explodes and cuts off the air again. Taking cover behind a fallen desk, I use the metal as a barrier and aim.
“Watch out!” I hear her voice before I see her, and then she’s running toward me, pushing my body, and throwing me to the floor. Biting pain radiates through my side as I hit the ground, and the spot I was just in blows up. Then Skye is on top of me.
Her hair fans my face.
The room around me is spinning, but I know we have to get up.
“Skye.” She winces. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. Are you?” she asks.
“Yeah. We have to get out of here,” I say through gritted teeth. I move to stand and pull her up and behind me, then I lead her out toward the basement. Gideon is behind us, right on our heels, Chaz, too, and Benedict.
“Make sure all the men are out. Kill everyone left behind. Clean up the mess as best you can. The cops will be here.”
“They should have already been here,” Gideon mumbles under his breath.
“I’m sure Felix rigged that.” I open the car door and push Skye in. I don’t have time to be gentle. We need to get out of here. Now. Usually, I would stay back to fight, but I have Skye to think about.
“Take down the whole building if you have to.” Gideon’s eyes go wide, but he knows it’s the only way.
The cops will be here. If they find the computers, my early retirement will not happen in the way I want.
It will happen with me behind bars.
35
Skye
Everything happens so fast.
First, I’m screaming for Tobias to move, and the next thing I know, the air is thick with smoke. At first, I stumble, then I freeze in place, taken back in time.
The noise around me becomes a soft hum. Sharp pain. Rocking in the corner. The gentle pressure of my wrist as I inhale to calm the frantic beating of my heart.
Suddenly, the hum turns into a ringing, and I shake my head back and forth. I’m not there. I’m not hiding in a closet. No. I’m in the middle of a war.
The sound around me rushes back, and then I’m back, and I remember why I’m here and what is happening. I hear the gunshots and try to look through the smoke. It’s a mess. I hear a voice. It’s Tobias, and he’s looking for me. He doesn’t see me, but I see him, and I also see the man rushing toward him, pulling his arm up and lifting a gun.
I move before I can think better of it and throw my body over his, trying my best to protect him from being shot. Before I know it, I’m being pulled through the haze, down the steps, and thrown into a car. Then Tobias is taking off, firing orders into his phone.
We are going somewhere, and we are going fast. I don’t bother asking where, because I doubt he will tell me. From beside me, I hear him wince as he makes a sharp right turn.
“Are you hurt?” I ask him.
“Just a scratch.” He hisses, but from the tone in his voice, he is lying.
“Are we almost there?” I ask.
“Why, you have other plans?” he jokes, but it comes out flat. It’s when the car hits a bump and swerves that I know for a fact he is hurt.
“You are not okay,” I state, unbuckling my seat belt and leaning forward. I pull his shirt up, and he grimaces. That’s when I see it, blood. I move the material, and it oozes.
“Fuck. Tobias! You’re hurt.”
“I’m fine.”
“You aren’t fine. You’re bleeding. We need to stop the bleeding.”
“It’s just a scratch.”
“Then why is your face pale? I need to stop the bleeding.” I look around, but there is nothing in the car. What the hell am I going to do?
Then it hits me, and I’m pulling off my blazer, balling it up, and placing it over the wound. He squirms at the pressure but continues to drive, weaving in and out of traffic. Once we are over the bridge, I’m completely lost, but that is probably the goal. If anyone is following us, they would never be able to find us.
If he’s trying to keep us safe, does that mean someone can track my phone?
“Should I turn off my cell?”
“No one knows you’re here.”
“But someone back at your office—”
“Skye.” He turns briefly to look at me and then turns back to the road. “There is no one alive back in the office who can tell Felix.”
My mouth drops open, his meaning coming in crystal clear.