Matt raced down the hall. Without the alarm blaring, the building was eerily quiet, except for the sound of sprinklers still running in the main salon behind him. The sprinklers and audible alarm were not on the same system. The sprinklers would run until someone shut them off. Unfortunately, the fire crew would not be allowed into an active shooter situation.
The last gunshot had sounded from above. Zack was upstairs. Matt ran, hoping Bree would wait until he was in position. Once on the staircase, she’d be an open target.
As he rounded the corner, his wet boots skidded on the tiles. He put a hand on the wall to stop his forward momentum and opened the door leading to the side stairwell.
Matt took the steps two at a time. Pausing at the top, he eased open the door and slid into the upstairs hallway. He could see Zack fifty feet ahead, his back to Matt, his gun pointed toward a woman in a knee-length black robe, her blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. Next to the robed woman, a spa employee was trying to stop the bleeding of a leg wound.
Matt slowed. What he wouldn’t give to have his long gun.
He moved closer. Commercial carpeting covered the upstairs hall, and his boots were silent, but he moved slowly and smoothly, doing his best not to attract Zack’s attention.
Something moved just beyond the blonde woman. The top of a head popped over the landing of the spiral staircase. Bree, in position.
A fresh shot of adrenaline burst through Matt’s veins. They’d successfully trapped Zack, but the robed woman was in the way.
He aimed Bree’s baby Glock at Zack, but the distance was still too great. He could not shoot Zack without endangering the woman. Frustration surged through him. His aim would never be good enough for a shot like this again. Hell, he couldn’t be certain he wouldn’t hit Bree, not at this distance. He needed to get the woman out of the way so Bree could take out Zack. But how?
Maybe he could distract Zack.
No. Bad idea. The guy was twitchy as hell. Any unexpected noise was just as likely to make Zack pull the trigger. Matt had only one choice. He had to get closer. Much closer.
He had to be the distraction. He had to demand Zack’s attention.
He eased farther up the corridor. Now that he was out in the open, his skin itched with vulnerability, like heat rash. If Zack looked his way, Matt was completely exposed. Zack could shoot at him, and Matt couldn’t even return fire for fear of hitting an innocent bystander.
Zack walked toward the woman, his gait unsteady. He grabbed her by the ponytail and shoved the gun into the soft flesh under her chin. Was he deciding whether or not to kill her? Or was he dragging out the moment to make her suffer? Was he losing his shit and no longer thinking at all? Didn’t matter. Matt couldn’t let her die.
Matt called out, “Drop the gun!”
Zack’s gun swung away from the woman and toward Matt. Zack released the woman and fired. Matt dove for the floor, shoulder rolling into an open doorway. The bullet hit the doorframe, and wood splintered.
Matt landed on his feet and returned to the doorway, peering around the frame. Zack had turned his back on the robed woman.
“I’m going to kill you!” Zack screamed, advancing on Matt. Zack’s face was red, the veins in his neck bulging as if he was going to stroke out.
Matt fired into the wall opposite Zack, well away from the woman in the hall. Zack flinched, but his steps didn’t slow. He came at Matt as if he were invincible, or a robot.
Or as if he didn’t care if he lived or died.
If that was the case, there would be only one way to stop him.
Behind Zack, Matt saw Bree climb onto the landing. Her gun was drawn, but the robed woman was still in her way.
She passed the wounded employee and yelled at the robed woman, “Get down!”
If the woman in the robe dropped to her knees, Bree would have Zack cold. Hopefully, this would happen before Zack shot Matt through the wall.
The robed woman’s head turned. Matt held his breath.
“Zack!”
Who was that?
A black-clad employee stepped between the robed woman and Zack. Steph. She must have come up the center hallway. No doubt her intentions were to save her coworker, but she’d just fucked up everything.
“Please don’t hurt anyone else,” Steph said, her words shaky. “I’ll do whatever you want.”
Her hands were raised, the palms toward Zack in surrender. She was clearly intent on de-escalating Zack, but she’d probably just signed her own death certificate.