One more glance at the door and she pushed against the wooden frame.
It didn’t budge.
Shit.
She took a deep breath, placed her hand against the wood, and shoved. The frame groaned as it swung open, and she shot another glance at the door as she heard shuffling.
Night air blew in from the outside, rustling the curtains as the smell of the river on the wind reached her. It was time to get out of there.
She swung a leg through the window, grabbing the side of the frame to give herself some leverage, and then dropped to the ground, keeping herself on her feet as her knees absorbed the drop. She sprang back into a standing position as noise erupted from inside the house. Guards shouted, and then guns sounded. But for some reason it didn’t sound like they were inside the room or shooting at her.
She shoved it out of her mind and ran, the lawn stretching out before her as she raced for the river. A quick calculation in her head shouted forty yards. She needed to cross forty yards without cover. Shit. Shit. Shit!
There was nothing to do but run and pray.
The commotion in the house got louder as more shots sliced the air. She heard shouting but didn’t look back. She saw the moonlight on the river and focused on that.
However, she wasn’t a runner. Hadn’t run since high school when Mrs. Clark screamed at them as they ran lap after lap around the track. She was only glad she was in sneakers rather than heels or flats. A precaution Bobby had made her take before they left the Whitmore house. The grass gave way to softer ground near the bank, and the river appeared, dark and moving. She didn’t slow down.
Behind her, a door opened, and someone shouted her name. She didn’t look back. Just kept running.
The bank was ten feet away. She heard the pounding of footsteps behind her. When she was five feet away, she felt someone grab her arm. Then a shot came from somewhere, and she felt something slam into her back, sending her falling forward.
Oh my god! I’m shot! They shot me!
The ground suddenly disappeared from under her as she tumbled toward the water, and then the St. Marys took her.
The water was like ice as she sunk to the bottom before she snapped to her senses, pushing herself to the surface once more, gasping. No sooner had her head broken the surface than the current gripped her, dragging her away from the estate.
She spun in the water, the estate’s lights growing further away when a second shot hit the water, spraying streams of river into the air. She took a quick breath and ducked under the surface once more, shoving herself away from the shore.
That turned out to be a mistake, as the current was stronger mid-river, and she felt it grip her, pulling her away. She didn’t fight it, needing to get away from Matteo and the guards. Men scurried about on the lawn, racing toward the dock. Shouting echoed against the tree line, but at least the gunfire had stopped.
However, the cold of the water was creeping into her chest, making it hard to breathe. Panic gripped her, and she swam toward the bank, but she struggled against the current.
“Delaney!”
She jerked around, water getting in her eyes and mouth as the current carried her downriver, the estate lights fading from view.
“Delaney!”
She felt herself growing tired as the river moved around her, carrying her in its icy, indifferent grip.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
ELVIS STARED AT THE empty chair, ropes dangling from the arms. They weren’t cut and they hadn’t been untied. It was more like someone had… stretched them, like someone had slipped their arms out of them after wiggling in them for so long. She had been there; he was sure of it. Had managed to get herself loose by the looks of it. But where the hell was she now?
He glanced up and noticed the window open, the curtains flapping beside it with the cool wind coming in off the water. He crossed the room in a rush, leaning out and glancing around to make sure no one was nearby. The entire backyard was swallowed with the darkness of night, the lawn stretching on toward the river, which was barely visible in the ambient light.
Then he saw her, racing toward the water, head down like someone who was barreling toward freedom. He opened his mouth to call out to her, to tell her to wait, but the room behind him erupted into chaos before he could get her name past his lips.
Dane and Grim shot into the room, dodging gunfire in the hallway.
“All right, this place is no longer quiet,” Grim growled as he turned to face the doorway, gun held in front of him.
The next thirty seconds were a percussive chaos that left little room for anything other than reactions. It was dodge and shoot, duck and swing as men made it into the room. There were no orders given simply because there was no time to give them. It didn’t matter because they had trained for this their entire careers. They knew what to do to stay alive and get the hell out of there, which was all Elvis wanted to do. He had to stop Delaney before she got too far away from them.
Grim and Dane moved to stand behind the wall, one on each side of the door, while Elvis moved closer to the window. One man eased into the room, his gaze fixed on Elvis, gun in front of him. He didn’t get his arm halfway through the open doorway before Grim grabbed him and yanked him to the side. Dane jumped in front of the open doorway and fired, taking two men down before ducking back inside the room.
