I keep my eyes fixed ahead as I race to the foot of the stairs. A figure rises from a table at the top of them. A tall guy in a tux – no surprise there – and then a woman is next to him. Like everyone else, she’s masked, but that shape is as familiar to me as my own. Curves I’ve run my hands over countless times.
It’s her!
My heart leaps and I have to force myself not to break into a run. Long strides get me to the bottom step of the staircase, poised to rush up.
“Where do you think you’re going?” a voice stops me short. A giant of a man steps in front of me, arms folded over his chest. Another moves up beside him. Almost as big.
I don’t give a fuck. Before either of them has a chance to say another word. I aim a sharp punch at the throat of the biggest guy. Quick as a snake strike. I feel bones crack, cartilage crunch. Caught completely off guard, his eyes fly wide as his hands clutch at the front of his neck. His mouth forms an “O”, tongue lolling out as he starts choking for air. He makes a rough, rasping sound.
I don’t wait to watch him collapse as his knees buckle, and he writhes on the floor. I’ve already turned my attention to the guy beside him, who swings a fist at me. It’s not a calculated move; the guy’s acting on instinct. It doesn’t pay off. I duck below the blow and come up fast with a palm strike to his face. It smashes into the bridge of his nose and blood spurts almost immediately.
He bows forward, head dropping into cupped palms. It’s precisely the position I need him to be in to allow me to slide a hand behind the back of his head, lock my palm under his jaw and wrench his skull sideways with my free hand. Something cracks and then grinds in the back of his neck as vertebrae separate and dislodge. He goes limp against me. When I release him, he drops like a stone.
The whole thing happens so fast, nobody even turns to see what’s going on. Another couple of guys lying on the floor in this place? No one gives it a second thought.
I step over them and bound up the stairs, getting to the top just in time to see Whitlock’s hands filling with the flesh of Andy’s ass. Rage roils in me as I see her stiffen, her hands pushing against his chest as she tries to shove him away.
But before I can reach her, there’s a shout, and then several more. Hard to make out the words over the music, but when a shot rings out, there’s bedlam. Women scream and men yell. There’s more gunfire. More screaming. Whitlock steps away from Andy, keeping a firm grip on her wrist as he spins to see what’s going on.
There’s more shouting. It’s directly behind me. I’m guessing either Raoul’s taken my charge through the crowd as a trigger to set the game in play…or someone just realized what’s happened to the bodyguards, but I’m not turning to look. I have to pray that Raoul’s got my back as I keep my focus on Andy. Behind a glittering mask, hazel eyes flash, and then connect with mine. Recognition dawns and her face floods with shock.
“Mateo!” she screams, a second before Whitlock’s hand connects with her cheek.
“Let her go, Whitlock,” I bark. With practiced ease, I draw a weapon and have it pointed at his chest in an instant. But he’s got an advantage over me. He yanks Andy up against him, shielding himself with her. Something gleams, reflecting red light, and I realize he has a knife pressed to the skin beneath her chin.
“Don’t try it, Ricci,” he snarls. “I’ll cut the cunt’s throat and her blood will be on your hands.”
I hesitate.Fuck.It’s a typical hostage situation and I’ve been through this drill a thousand times. But never with those huge eyes fixed on my face. Her bottom lip quivers. When she swallows, the movement is enough to raise a thin, beaded line of blood on her throat. That blade is razor sharp.
“Let her go,” I repeat. “It’s the only way you’re gonna get out of here alive, Whitlock.”
“We’ll see about that,” he sneers. His hand twitches and another drop trickles.
Motherfucker!
Somehow, the music behind us has stopped, and now it’s just the hoarse cries and screams as people stampede to get out. There’s a rapid exchange of automatic gunfire. A scream that begins is cut short as someone takes a hit. I still can’t look back. Just praying it’s not one of ours. And that nobody innocent gets taken down because of what we’re doing here tonight. Though in a place like this, I guess innocence is relative.
I’m not lowering my weapon and Andy’s eyes are wide with terror as the blade presses deeper.
“Don’t make me do it, Ricci.” Behind his mask, Whitlock’s eyes are mad. The muzzle of my gun wavers. I’m about to lower it. Almost feel my wrist dropping of its own accord, when there’s more rapid gunfire right behind us. A bullet whines past Whitlock’s head and slams into the wall behind him, showering him with red flecked plaster. He jerks inadvertently and the knife dips as he jolts away from the sound. There’s an instant when he moves from her – ears probably ringing. I know mine are. That was too fucking close.
“Now, Andy! Move!” I yell. Thank God she’s not one of those dithering types who panics in tense situations. Andy jams an elbow back into Whitlock’s gut and then dives headfirst away from him. He wheezes and doubles over. Now would be the time to put a bullet in his head. But there’s chaos around us and I don’t know if the gunfire is aimed at him, me, or worse – Andy. She’s on her knees and scrambling away, and the bastard’s still gasping. If we’re going to get out of here, it has to be now. I dart forward, close my hand around her upper arm and haul her to her feet.
“What_?” she starts to say, staring at me in confusion. There’s no time to explain now. We have to move. Without a word, I turn and sprint toward the stairs, dragging her behind me.
Chapter 19
Andy Carter
Mateo has a vice-grip on my arm as we make our way around the edge of the club. People are running for the doorway, screaming, shoving each other. The emergency exit is equally chaotic, and guests push each other frantically in their bid to get out. Most of them are in various states of undress, though I doubt anyone cares about it now.
I stumble for the third time since we started running, and he glances back at me.
“You good?”
He’s pulled off his mask and I swallow as I allow my eyes to run over that face. The features that have haunted my dreams these past weeks. Even in the bizarre red lighting of this room, he’s more than simply striking.
God, he’s beautiful.
