Definitely. The world was closing in on them. His chest heated. He moved from the truck and helped her out. “We need to hurry. Just grab what’s essential, and we’ll get on the road.” His nape tickled, and he wanted nothing more than to toss her into the Jeep and speed away from danger.
He nodded to Denver, who had just jumped out of the truck.
“Boxes upstairs,” Denver said, tucking a gun into the back of his waistband. “Security is still in place here.”
“Okay.” Heath ran through the schematics in his mind as he jogged up the stairs with Anya following. Seven cameras and eight booby traps needed to be fetched. Even though Denver had checked the security, Heath scouted the entire apartment before letting Anya retrieve their personal items from their bedroom and bathroom.
“I’ll get the cameras in here,” Denver called from Heath’s kitchen. “You get the security items and personal stuff. We have to get out of here before the storm gets worse or the FBI discovers we have two buildings here in town. We’re on their radar now.”
“We’re on Cobb’s radar.” Heath hurried to the camera hidden inside a sconce in the corner, grabbing a backpack out of the coat closet on his way. Quick movements had the device removed and tucked into the pack. “Number three camera secure,” he called out to Denver.
A wisp of sound caught his attention, and he paused. A slight buzz turned his focus. Was that one of their devices? The frequency was off—way too slow.
Anya moved out of the bedroom with a laptop bag in her hands. “I think I got it all.”
Realization slapped him. “Back!” he yelled, going for her.
An explosion rocked the floor right where he’d been, throwing him sideways toward the granite island. Pain ripped through his side. Fire bit at his arm, and he fell hard, his ears ringing.
Canisters seemed to drop from every direction, gas spewing.
A figure crashed down through the wooden beams, barely discernible through the gas.
“Anya!” Heath croaked, shoving himself to his feet and holding his breath. His right arm hung uselessly at his side, and his shoulder felt like it had been wrenched off. None of that mattered. Where was she? The smoke completely blocked his vision.
An explosion rocked near the fridge, and Denver roared in pain.
Oh God. Heath turned back but could only see smoke. A tremor rippled through his rib cage. His heart clutched.
“Heath!” Anya screamed.
Damn it. He pivoted and ran toward her voice, his heart thundering, his lungs exploding. Tears filled his eyes from the gas. A man in head-to-toe black pulled a struggling Anya out of the bedroom. The guy had on a gas mask and moved with graceful purpose.
Heath fought the need to breathe and rushed the assailant.
The guy lifted an arm and pressed some sort of device.
The floor blew, and Heath crashed across the room and back into the kitchen, where Denver was sitting up. Agony bore into Heath’s head, and fire burned his chest. Denver frantically patted out fire along Heath’s shirt, his own jeans a smoldering mess.
“Anya,” Heath croaked out.
Denver nodded, blood pouring down his face. He jerked Heath up, and they both tried to make it through the smoke. Pain made Heath’s body try to shut down, but he used every genetic advantage he’d been given to fight it and carry on. He had to get to her. She was all that mattered.
The guy had Anya over a shoulder, and she was out cold.
Heath’s legs weakened, but he pushed on. Denver fell next to him, his head thunking on the destroyed floor.
The gas surrounded Heath and finally got inside. He gasped for air, and his lungs detonated. The last thing he saw before dropping into unconsciousness was Anya’s beautiful red hair hanging down the back of the Copper Killer.
CHAPTER
35
Anya opened her eyes, her body a dead weight, mist still hovering around her head. She lay on something soft, but she couldn’t see what it was. Sounds came to her. Sleet against a windshield. The hum of a heater. Windshield wipers. She tried to lift her head and drifted back into the darkness.
Something drew her awake again, and she tried to focus. Movement. She was moving in some sort of vehicle. A song on the radio crooned around her. Her brain was fuzzy, and she couldn’t make out the words.
She couldn’t feel anything. The darkness surrounded her again, and she fell into it.
