I dash up the stairs. It's more of a drunken stagger.
Hypothermia from my immersion saps more of my strength than I realized, but I make it to the top. A pull at the lever on the door, and the rusty mechanism groans in protest. It moves.
Holy hellfire, but it moves.
I open the door and glance down. Paul sways on his feet, unsteadily climbing the steps.
But he climbs.
Faster than I think possible. I widen the opening for Paul. When his foot hits the last step, a shot rings out. The bullet whizzes through the air and hits the metal railing beside Paul's head. Sparks fly, and the bullet ricochets into the darkness.
Paul makes it up the last step and lunges for the opening. I take one hand to push him the last few inches through whilegrabbing the inner handle to swing the door shut. A bullet hits the other side of the metal, and Paul falls to the floor.
"Paul!" Was he hit a second time?
I search his body but find only one bullet hole. Well, technically, two—the entrance and exit wounds.
His chest heaves with the force of his breaths, and he groans as he struggles to rise.
"Shh. Take a minute."
"We don't have a minute." He clenches his jaw. "Help me up."
I pull Paul to a stand, with him hissing in pain. He leans against me, using me to support much of his weight.
He glances down a catwalk extending into the distance. Another set of stairs heads down. The only indications I have that he wants to head that direction are his body's wobble and the lean that follows.
Taking one step at a time, I struggle to reach the stairs.
SIX
Paul: Blood Pact
The biteof the bullet burns hotter than I thought possible. Every movement brings excruciating pain, but there's little time to deal with it. Not when Vivianne remains at risk.
It won't take long before Nicholas discovers I switched the painting.
It was a risk, and retrieving the copy from the cave took time, but after one look at Urakov, there was no other option. The Russian wasn't willing to risk the anthrax falling back into Nicholas's hands.
I lost even more time replacing my version ofDr. Gachetin the frame, but I raced down the winding road to Lac Léman, taking the sharp curves at breakneck speed. I was almost too late.
Vivianne nearly drowned.
How close I pushed it. I've lost Merlin, a man whose sacrifice will follow me to my grave, but losing Vivianne would have destroyed me.
Nicholas knew what choice I would make.
Urakov has what he came for; the deadly anthrax will be returned to Mother Russia. The world will be safe from yetanother senseless terrorist attack. The Musée d'Orsay will have its masterpiece back. Everybody is—or will be—happy.
That leaves me to deal with my brother. I have seconds to get Vivianne to safety. Gritting my teeth and bearing down against the pain, I stagger down the catwalk.
Behind us, the door screeches on rusty hinges. I bite back a curse.
Nicholas follows, which means…
"Brother." The word scrapes out of him, raw and dangerous. "You dare defy me? This will cost not only your life but hers as well."
Vivianne gasps, and I try to bear more of my weight but slump against her when the pain becomes too intense. I can barely breathe.
