But as soon as the last word had left his mouth, Blaze sprinted several steps on his toes toward the door in its alcove.
He leaped into the air and twisted, catching himself horizontally between the two walls of the hallway, bracing himself and walking upward with his hands and feet while the lock on the door rattled.
26
MICAH AND TWIST
BLAZE
From outside the door, Twist said, “Okay, make sure you’re on the other side of the room while we come in.”
Blaze crawled up the wall, the smooth plaster cool under his bare feet and palms, bracing himself like a tension rod between the alcove walls that were about eight feet apart, the gunshot wound in his thigh screaming.
As soon as they’d walked into the bedroom, those two walls had drawn his attention.
Granted, Blaze was always on the lookout for a terrain tactical advantage or an object that could be used as an improvised weapon or medical device, like that ballpoint pen in the drawer could either be a stabbing weapon or, if unscrewed and the ink insert taken out, a tracheotomy tube.
He’d also noticed the door, which was steel like a prison cell with the hinges on the outside. The locking mechanism drove bolts into the frame on all four sides of the door.
He wedged himself near the ceiling about a foot above the door frame and waited.
From Blaze’s vantage above, the door opened outward. A foot came into the room, and then he was looking at the top of Twist’s sandy brown hair and the two plastic take-out boxes he was holding.
Micah’s blond head followed Twist in, his hair parted sharply on the side, and the short black line of a gun wavered as he fanned the business end of it across the seemingly empty room.
Blaze released his hold on the walls and reached, dropping onto Twist’s and Micah’s backs and knocking them to the floor.
The plastic boxes that held their lunch went skittering across the floor, dammit, and so did the gun.
Micah scrambled after the gun.
Blaze wrapped his elbow around Micah’s neck and squeezed. “Stop, or I’ll choke off your carotid arteries until you’re dead.”
Micah raised his hands slowly, his fingers spread in surrender.
He loosened his arm slightly because Micah was probably seeing spots by that point. “Other weapons?”
Twist said, “Micah has another one in the back of his pants.”
Blaze shifted slightly and pulled a small Beretta from Micah’s waistband.
A thin red line down the top of the slide meant a round was in the chamber, but the safety was clicked on.
He stuffed it in his waistband at the small of his back because he’d rather accidentally shoot his ass off than put it in his trouser pocket and take out one of his nuts. “Any other weapons?”
Twist shook his head while Micah glared at him through their reflection in the window.
Blaze released Micah and shoved the two of them toward the wall. “Sit down. Face the wall. Hands behind your head.”
By this time, Sarah had stood up from her position behind the bed and was holding the ballpoint pen in her fist like women generally hold a knife, with the point coming out downward.
He handed her the gun, butt first. “I’m going to go find some of those zip ties. If either one of them moves, shoot them.”
“Yes, sir,” she said.
Her husky voice sent a thrill through him and necessitated reminding himself that the middle of an operation was not the time to shove her up against the wall and fuck her until she cried out.
The way that woman distracted him might get them both killed, but what a way to go.
