Page 80 of Witness Security Breach

Aiden launched himself down the right staircase, spraying a volley of suppressive fire from the 9 mm with the silencer.

If Walsh had gone left toward the stairs leading to the Mayan Reef, he would’ve got away without a scratch on him. Instead he ran in the direction in which he’d come, back toward the other exhibits on the second floor.

Aiden aimed and fired. Not at Walsh. And he was out of fire extinguishers. His bullet hit a cluster of paint ball grenades. The yellow liquid color sprayed in multiple directions, making the floor slick.

He could always count on Charlie to get creative in a pinch.

Running, Walsh couldn’t get any traction in his fancy shoes and slipped around like he was trying to walk on ice.

Aiden punched him in the face, knocking Walsh to his butt, and kicked the gun from his hand.

A bullet struck a tree beside Aiden’s head. The one in the ball cap had recovered, but the chemicals from the extinguisher had messed up his eyes. His aim was off.

Aiden returned fire.

The guy ducked and hit the stairs, going for Edgar. Heavy footfalls pounded up the right staircase, followed by more gunfire.

Leaping into action, Aiden rounded the corner and saw Edgar making a run for it across the wooden bridge and down the steps on the left side of the room. Aiden popped off a round, clipping the gunman in the leg.

The man dropped onto the stairs.

Staying on him, Aiden bounded up the steps, but the guy rolled onto his back. At that distance, a blind man could’ve shot him.

Aiden darted to the side at the right moment, avoiding a hot slug to the chest. He stilled and controlled the squeeze of the trigger. One shot to the wrist, forcing the man’s fingers to open and drop the weapon. The guy howled, clutching his wounded arm.

Pulling out a zip tie, Aiden flipped the guy onto his stomach.

Edgar kept going. Darting down below, he scooped up the briefcase full of cash and took off running.

“Wait, Edgar!” Aiden called as he disappeared down the stairs toward the Mayan Reef.

Walsh was up on his feet, gun back in his hand, and hot on Edgar’s heels.

Aiden yanked the man’s arms behind his back and got his wrists and ankles restrained with zip ties. Then Aiden was up, on the move, again.

But as he ran down the stairs, he realized he had to make a choice.

Go after Edgar and Walsh. Or find Charlie.

Everything that they’d gone through—running from the law, taking on gangsters, going toe-to-toe with dirty SWAT officers to clear their names—would be in vain if they lost Edgar. Their careers, their future, would go down the drain.

His heart throbbed with immediate resolution. There was no choice.

CHARLIE FINALLY SPOTTED one of Devlin’s men in the Gulf of Mexico Exhibit. The area was dimly lit so visitors could clearly see the seventeen-foot-deep, 400,000-gallon tank with sharks and other marine life, and a quarter-scale replica of an offshore oil rig.

The exhibit was stunning and at the same time alarming. Darkness shrouded the corners, black pockets like ominous voids. And there was still no sign of Devlin.

The man with the goatee was headed toward the Great Mayan Reef.

Was Devlin in front of them already, at the Amazon Rainforest Exhibit?

Or was he lurking somewhere behind her?

She took another furtive glance over her shoulder. Nothing but a family strolling toward a different exhibit in the opposite direction. Charlie pulled out her baton. The steel was well-balanced and heavy-duty.

The expandable rod would allow her to make physical contact while giving her a twenty-six-inch buffer zone. That might not be much, but when it came to a 200-pound man throwing a punch, those two feet of safety distance felt like ten.

She squeezed the rod in her hand, keeping her head on a swivel.