“Give me the vest and the glasses.” As he zips up the vest, he offers me a wry smile. “You know…I was coming in here to rescue you. But, you were doing a pretty good job all on your own.”
“Never been much of a damsel in distress.” I cup his cheek, brushing away a smear of blood. “Now let’s get the hell out of here.”
“Stay right next to me,” Dax says, touching his forehead to mine. “Tell me everything you see, as quietly as possible, and if I tell you to run—at any time—you run. Don’t look back. Just go.”
I won’t argue with him. Not now. We don’t have time. But I’m not leaving his side. No matter what.
Wiping away the last of my tears, I stand up as straight as I can and lead him to the door. “I’m ready.”
35
Dax
With Evianna’s warmth at my side, a part of me settles, even though we’re far from safe. Grasping the folding knife in my hand, I nod, and she cracks the door. I hate having her exposed. I want her behind me. But I need her eyes.
“Empty,” she whispers.
“Take us the opposite direction from the room we woke up in.”
Her fingers tighten on the back of my vest, and she guides me to the right. Pressing ourselves against the wall, we creep forward. “Pipes along the ceiling,” she says.
“Follow them.”
Her bare feet make little noise, and I learned how to mask my footsteps years ago, so the sound of someone rushing towards us is deafening in the silence of the hallway. Evianna hears it too, and urges me forward at a run. “Left turn. Fifty feet,” she hisses.
The shot is deafening, and her scream sends my heart into my throat. Grabbing her, I shove her in front of me, pushing us faster, until she yells, “Turn!”
A second shot grazes my side as we skid around the corner, and I grunt at the impact. It doesn’t hurt yet, but it will. “Too far,” she says, and the hopelessness in her tone stops me in my tracks. “Stairs. But we’ll never make it.”
“Stay behind me. Don’t run until I engage, and ignore the next thing I say.” Raising my voice, I shout, “Go! You can make it. I’m right behind you.”
I feel her tense at my back, and then she’s fumbling with the bag slung over her shoulder. What the hell is she doing?
The burly hitman’s footsteps are so loud, he sounds like a baboon, and he’s not slowing down. “Back up five feet. Now,” I tell her.
She does, the sound of my cane unfolding barely audible over the stampede headed right for me. Crouching down, I brace myself for the hit, and when the asshole barrels around the corner, I ram my shoulder into his gut, jerk the knife upwards, and catch him under the arm.
Roaring, he grabs my right wrist, yanking it behind me hard enough my shoulder strains to stay in the socket. The pain sends me to my knees, and he rolls away, then…I hear him cock the hammer.
“You’re dead, blind man. Where is the girl?”
What? Evianna was right behind me.
The gun jams against my temple. This is it. I’m going to die. But if Evianna got out…got anywhere. Maybe…I can die if I know she’ll live. She’s all that matters.
“Fuck you, asshole.” Dropping my head, I wait for the inevitable. Unable to see, I don’t have a chance at disarming him.
“Did I teach you nothing, soldier? Listen. You see with more than just your eyes, brother.”
Ryker. Again. I’m losing it. Fear, the blows to the head. Another one sends me sprawling, and then Louie grabs the collar of my shirt and shoves me against the wall, the barrel pressed to the back of my neck. “Where’s the girl?”
I can hear him breathing. Feel where the warmth of his body ends. He’s behind me, but off to one side. My left side. My good, dominant side. I can do this.
A feral, high-pitched scream, the likes of which I’ve never heard before, pierces the still, dank air, and Louie takes a step. Just one. But it’s enough. Spinning, I grab for the gun, finding his wrists and forcing them upward, then to the side, using his joints as the weak point.
The gun clatters to the floor, and then there’s the sound of metal hitting something solid. Again and again. Louie falls, and metal hits the floor. “Come on!” Evianna cries and grabs my hand. “Your cane’s dead. Sorry about that. I’ll buy you a new one.”
We sprint for the stairs, and she warns me about them just in time. Bursting through a door, I smell fresher air, but we’re still not safe. “Keep climbing,” she says, pulling me after her. Another door, another set of stairs, then another, and another, and then…we’re outside, the sounds of traffic not far away.
