Gunnar stepped into full view, holding his gun steady. “Let him go,” Gunnar ordered. “Or I’ll make sure you regret it.”
Romano froze for a heartbeat, then sneered. He yanked Bryn in front of him like a shield, pressing the knife to his throat. “You want to play hero?” Romano barked, dragging Bryn up the staircase in jerky, awkward steps. Bryn struggled violently, twisting his body, refusing to make Romano’s progress easy. Each thrash sent tremors through the staircase and the bolts groaned in protest.
Reaching the catwalk, Romano half-turned. “Here’s the deal!” he shouted, his voice echoing through the roof space. “I get a fueled car, safe passage out of here and a guarantee I won’t be followed. Or…” He tilted his head toward the drop. “I’ll toss him over like yesterday’s garbage.”
Bryn fought harder, apparently unconcerned by Romano’s knife. One well-aimed blow landed squarely in Romano’s ribs, and he staggered, losing his balance for a split second. The catwalk trembled violently with a screech of straining metal.
Gunnar seized the opening. His finger tightened on the trigger and he fired. The sharp crack of the gunshot split the air, and Romano cried out as the bullet buried itself in his shoulder. His knife clattered to the catwalk before spinning off the edge.
Bryn broke free with a snarl, stumbling to his knees. His momentum carried him dangerously close to the edge and he clawed at the grating to steady himself. Gunnar’s heart lurched, but Bryn scrambled to his feet then stepped back from the edge. He gave Gunnar a brief wave then drove his boot into Romano’s side. By the time Gunnar reached them, Romano was sprawled on the catwalk, clutching his injured shoulder and whimpering.
“You’re done,” Gunnar said, slapping a pair of cuffs onto Romano’s wrists. He hauled him to his feet with a rough jerk. “Move. You can walk down, or I can shove you over the edge. Your call.”
Romano paled, all bluster gone. “I’ll walk,” he mumbled, wobbling as Gunnar pushed him toward the stairs.
Behind them, Bryn huffed, swiping at his bloodied shirt. “Aw, come on! I was kind of hoping you’d throw him over. The guy ruined my favorite T-shirt when he scratched me.” He tugged the fabric up, revealing deep scratches that oozed blood across his side.
A low growl escaped Gunnar’s throat. “You call those scratches?” he snapped. “They’re a hell of a lot more than that.”
Bryn waved him off. “Relax, big guy. Nothing to wolf-out about.”
Gunnar didn’t answer. His grip tightened on Romano’s arm, his jaw clenching. “Let’s just get this over with,” he muttered, dragging his prisoner down the staircase, already plotting what words he’d have for Bryn once Romano was out of the picture.
When they reached the bottom of the stairs, there was a swarm of FBI agents waiting to take Romano into custody. As the agents led him away, Gunnar leaned against some racking. Bell came over to him.
“You could’ve waited for backup,” he said dryly.
“And miss the chance to take him down? No way. Besides, he took Bryn.”
“You know how many things could’ve gone sideways in here? Bryn could’ve been killed,youcould’ve been killed, and I’d be the one cleaning up the mess. The paperwork would’ve taken weeks and Warden would’ve declared war on the FBI.”
“Yeah, well…it was worth the risk.” He gave Bryn a pointed glare. “If we hadn’t acted, Romano might be halfway across the state by now.”
“Did you get a read on him, Bryn?” Bell asked.
“Yeah. He’s one sick puppy. He enjoyed torturing Hunter Carshaw the most. While we were getting up close and familiar, he also told me he spiked Dave Frederics’ coffee with hallucinogens before convincing him he needed to run. The crash was inevitable. Romano did find out about the tunnels from Frederics, that was true, but they were never there together. He convinced Frederics not to go back after replacing the padlock and chain, told him the place was likely being monitored by the city but before that, Frederics had been there several times. He was a convenient fall guy.”
“Okay. You guys can take a hike. We’ve got it from here. We need to get the store reopened because the people outside are getting feral. We’ll keep the back offices and warehouse sealed off. I’ll come by tomorrow to take statements from both of you.”
Gunnar nodded. “Okay.” He and Bryn walked back to their car in silence. Gunnar held his tongue until they were inside the vehicle.
“What the hell were you thinking, Bryn? Are you trying to put me in an early grave?”
Bryn sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was thinking about saving the hostage’s life.”
“And what aboutyourlife?” Gunnar leaned closer. “You put yourself in the hands of a guy with nothing to lose. Do you know how that could’ve ended? How close you came to—”
“I know,” Bryn cut him off. “I know exactly how close I came. But it worked. She’s safe. He’s in custody. It’s over.”
“It’s not over for me!” Gunnar snapped. “Have you any idea what it was like for me to leave you with him while I took that woman out of there? Watch you put yourself in that kind of danger and be helpless? That wasn’t a trade you needed to make.”
“I couldn’t just stand there and do nothing.”
Gunnar ran a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath to steady himself. “And that’s what scares me,” he admitted. “You took a risk like your life doesn’t matter, but it does. To me, it does.”
“You mean that?” Bryn asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Every word,” Gunnar said.
