“No.” She reached for her gun.
“Drop it or I’ll shoot him,” Yusef yelled.
She bit her lip. “Why are you doing this?” Who would do such a thing?
“Gun,” Yusef said, spittle spraying from his mouth. His eyes were a wild hue. “Now.”
Hugh gingerly reached for his gun and set it on the floor. “Ellie. It’s okay.”
Her hand shook, but she did the same, stepping away from the gun with her hands up.
Yusef glared. “I guess I do not truly need to wipe the security feed. Soon there will be nothing left here but rubble.”
The muscles in Hugh’s shoulders and back bunched. “Remember what I told you.”
What?
He backed into her, turned, and all but shoved her toward the door with his hips.
“Stop it,” Yusef ordered.
“No,” Hugh said softly. “I’m one of those lucky guys who sees things clearly.” Reaching behind his back, he yanked open the door. A quick twist of his hips, and he put Ellie outside. “Run, Ellie!” he yelled, leaping across the room toward Yusef.
A gun went off. The door slammed shut.
Bullets impacted the door. She ducked and ran down the corridor, yanking her phone out of her pocket and dialing Deke. “Deke! Get back, quick.” Then she turned and kept low, heading back to the computer room.
There had to be a way to save Hugh.
How badly had he been shot?
Keeping her head down, she all but crawled back to the door and tried to open it. Nothing. She partially stood and used all her strength.
Damn it. They’d locked it?
She tried to remember the schematics of the place just as Deke came running up.
He tried to open the door with no luck. “What the hell?”
“There’s another entry,” Ellie said, looking frantically around. “We have to get in there. Now.”
Chapter Twelve
Why are some people so fucking crazy?
—Hugh Johnson, Brigade Notes
A hard slap to the face brought Hugh into consciousness. Pain exploded in his right shoulder. He opened his eyes and tried to focus.
Huh? What the hell?
He shook his head and then winced as invisible needles poked his eyes from inside his head.
“There you are. Wake up, dickhead,” said a rough voice.
Focus, damn it. Hugh zeroed in on the voice and then the face surrounding it. Deep blue eyes, brown hair liberally streaked with gray, trimmed beard. Dark eyebrows. Gray sweater. Northern USA type of accent. “Who the fuck are you?”
The guy smiled. “You aren’t dead.”
