I silenced him with a kiss. I wanted to tell him how he had changed my life, how he had ignited my soul, had given me an existence I had never dared to dream about—but there was no time. “I love you, too,” I whispered. “Now please,please, keep quiet.”
Finch would make it out of here alive. I was determined to make it so; I just had to come up with a plan. Throughout the townhouse I could hear the IFF agents calling to each other.
Nothing here.
Clear!
Nothing.
Check down there.
Running feet, coming down the hallway towards the kitchen—
I ducked around the side of the counter and took out the first man in line with a well-aimed shot to the face. The men behind him slapped up against the walls for cover as I ducked back. Finch was staring at me, but when I glanced his way, I saw no fear in him.
“How many bullets do you have?” he asked.
Not enough for all of the intruders. But enough to keep Finch alive until the cops arrived, or my men did. “Get over to the pantry and wait in there, close to the ground,” I said, instead of answering his question. “I’ll cover you.”
“I’m not going in there without—”
“I’ll join you in a moment.”
It was a lie, but I sold it well enough that he scrambled up to a crouching position. “Three, two, one,” I counted him down, and then leaned out again to fire at the men who were still there in the hallway outside the kitchen.
Finch made it across the floor to the walk-in pantry, and crouched in the doorway, waiting for me.
But my quick glance down the hallway had shown me what I feared even more than the IFF. The fire had taken hold. If we waited much longer, there would be no way out.
I gave Finch one last look and thought about the night we met, the way he’d appeared suddenly in the strobing light of the dance floor, offered to suck my dick, and then saved my life instead. Thought about his pink hair and his wild laugh and his green-gold eyes shining as he walked down the aisle towards me.
“I’m just going to clear a few of them out,” I called to him, low and steady. “I’ll come back for you.”
“Don’t you fucking dare—”
“I’ll come back,” I insisted.
It was as much a lie as when I’d promised to back off, let others protect him. I really didn’t think I would live through the night, not this time.
But I wasn’t going to let these motherfuckers harm Finch, no matter the cost. If I could keep them occupied until backup arrived, or even until the cops got here, that would do. Finch was safe from guns in that tiny room for now, and if I could buy some time, eliminate some of these trigger-happy assholes so the fire department could do its job, Finch would survive the fire as well.
His safety was all that mattered.
I came out firing and managed to drive the men in the hallway back, grabbing a handgun from the body on the floor as I went. I wanted to draw their attention, to keep them focused on me and down the front of the townhouse, away from the kitchen and from Finch. But the smoke was already black and thick, treacherous to breathe.
An IFF agent stumbled out of the TV room to my right, coughing and choking too much to register who I was. I grabbed him and shoved him in front of me as I continued down the hallway, using his body as protection. He seemed to think I was helping him until we came to the next doorway, where his buddy gave a shout and opened fire. I ducked down behind my human shield, waiting for my chance, and then shot back several times over his shoulder. My eyes were streaming, my lungs closing up, and the now-dead body was too heavy to lug around. So when the next terrorist appeared out of the haze, I threw the corpse towards him as a distraction and then killed him as well with a shot through the heart.
I knewIhad taken bullets, too; the familiar thud and burn had radiated through my thigh, and then my side, but the pain of it was blunted by the immediate danger from fire and smoke. I lunged forward instinctively, chasing what seemed like clean air, and realized my mistake too late.
I’d come way too far down the hallway, way too far from Finch, and the fresh air was coming in through the burst-open front door. I turned back at once, but there were three men coming down the internal staircase, and I had to dive out the front door to avoid their hail of bullets. I cracked my head on the concrete side of the stoop, hard enough to stun me for a moment.
I’d managed to hold onto my Sig Sauer, at least, though I’d lost the other gun. My blurry vision focused and I identified more enemy targets in the street. Through sheer willpower I forced myself to my feet and took out three of them, but I was running out of bullets and I was running out of blood, my hands slipping off the stoop as I tried to pull myself up. I gave up trying to get to my feet and fell down the steps instead, where I crawled into the middle of Fifth Avenue, hoping that any men still in the townhouse would follow me out.
Sirens were screaming in my ears like dance music. Lights were flashing, strobing in my eyes, and for a moment I saw Finch again as he had been that first night, his pink hair and silver outfit, an angel appearing before me in the middle of the dance floor.
I know you. You’re Lucifer fuckin’ Morningstar, cast out of heaven and landed here in the greatest city on earth.
He’d been right, that night. I was a man forged in hellfire and I would not surrender. Not like this.
