"Toss me your bag first."
She does, and I set it aside. Then she sits on the edge of the bookstore roof, legs dangling.
"I've got you," I promise, reaching up.
She slides off, and I catch her around the waist, easing her down. For a brief moment, she's in my arms, her body pressed against mine. She's soft and warm, smelling faintly of vanilla and fear-sweat.
I set her on her feet quickly, but my hands linger on her waist a second longer than necessary, making sure she's steady.
"Thank you," she whispers.
"Don't thank me yet," I reply, scanning the surrounding rooftops. "We need to keep moving."
We cross two more buildings this way, putting distance between us and the bookstore. At the fourth building, I find what I'm looking for—a fire escape on the rear wall.
"Down here," I direct. "Quick and quiet."
Beth descends first, and I follow, keeping my body between her and any potential line of sight from the bookstore. We reach the alley below without incident.
"My truck's parked on Oak Street," I tell her. "Two blocks east. We'll have to move along these back alleys to reach it."
She nods, clutching her backpack like a lifeline. "Who were those men?"
"I don't know," I lie, and hate myself for it. Based on Reaper's intel, they're almost certainly hired guns working for the corrupt officials Beth is set to testify against. The ones who've been paying off her protection detail.
We move swiftly through the alley, staying close to the buildings, using dumpsters and delivery trucks for cover. Beth keeps up well, following my lead without question. For someone with no apparent tactical training, she's handling the situation remarkably well.
At the corner of Pine and Oak, I halt, peering around to check the street before we cross.
"Clear," I whisper. "The truck is halfway down the block. Blue Ford, contractor logo on the side."
We're almost there when I spot movement in my peripheral vision. A black sedan moving slowly down Oak Street, the passenger window rolling down.
"Get down!" I shout, grabbing Beth and pulling her behind a parked car just as the first shot cracks through the air.
Glass shatters somewhere behind us. Beth makes a small, terrified sound against my chest.
"Stay down," I order, shielding her body with mine as more shots follow. "When I say move, we run straight to the blue truck. Don't stop, don't look back. Understand?"
She nods against my chest, trembling violently.
I wait for a break in the gunfire, counting the shots. Six... seven... pause. They're reloading.
"Now!" I yell, pulling her up and pushing her toward the truck.
We sprint across the open space, bullets pinging off metal and concrete around us. Twenty feet feels like twenty miles. I fumble the keys from my pocket, hit the unlock button.
"Get in!"
Beth yanks open the passenger door and dives inside. I circle around, keeping low, and slide behind the wheel as another volley of shots rings out.
The engine roars to life. I throw the truck into reverse, backing up rapidly, then shift to drive and slam the gas pedal to the floor. The truck lurches forward, tires squealing.
In the rearview mirror, I see the black sedan pull a U-turn to follow.
"Hold on," I warn Beth, then take a hard right onto a side street, tires screeching.
She's pressed back against the seat, knuckles white where she grips the door handle, but she's not screaming or falling apart. The woman has steel beneath her fear.
