Chapter Fifty-Four

Lena’s full weight smashed into Rory, sending them both to the floor in a tangle of arms and legs as bullets slammed into the wall. He grunted in pain but did his best to buffer her landing with his much larger bulk. She immediately rolled to her knees and fired three rounds at the dodging shape of a man. The blast of her S&W echoed through the small office, pounding into Rory’s ears.

Creed was gone.

Lena gave a vile curse and scrambled to her feet. “Come on, he’s getting away.” She dashed out the door.

Rory didn’t bother calling her back. The assassin Lena Alvarez was not open to reason on her best day, but he knew in this mode she was blind and deaf to anything other than her prey.

He swore. He was getting sick and tired of having to chase after her.

Barely in time to see her disappear around a corner, he sped down the main corridor. Gunfire echoed from ahead and he pushed harder, skidded around the corner, and shoved through the stairwell door. He bounded up the stairs three steps at a time. Up ahead, booted feet pounded the concrete. It was the only sound, even though Lena followed close behind. The lack of her footfall, reminded Rory she was barefoot. Fuck!

How the hell was he supposed to keep her safe if she simply charged headlong into a fight? Didn’t the woman ever stop to think?

This was Lena, remember?

“Lena!” he shouted, stealing a quick glance between the landings. He dodged back when two bullets cracked into the banister inches away.

Too close. But now he knew the shooter was three stories up.

Lena could only be one story ahead of him. He began taking four steps at a time.

He didn’t catch up with her until the tenth floor, two stories down from the roof. Without a word, he passed her and took the lead.

“Spoilsport,” she wheezed.

She was struggling to keep up, her breathing choppy and loud. The strain was almost too much for her abused body, but he knew she wasn’t about to give up. Calling her stubborn was an understatement. She would kill herself before giving into something as insignificant as exhaustion.

All he could do to prevent a disaster was to keep himself between her and Creed at all times. And who knew, with a little luck they just might make it through this day alive.

He rounded the last corner and caught a glimpse of the black-clad man as he burst through the rooftop exit.

Rory pulled up short, dragging in deep breaths.

“Oh, no you don’t.” He shoved her back against the wall beside the door. She would have charged through it, possibly straight into Creed’s line of fire. “Lena. For God’s sake. Quit acting like an idiot, damn it! You’re better than this.”

“Will you stop fondling me?” She slapped at his hand and threw him a glare. “I mean it. Hands. Off!”

Ignoring her, he used the tip of his boot to push open the door several inches. A salvo of bullets screamed through the crack, digging into the wall on the opposite side.

He jerked back, allowing the steel door to shut and take the last hit.

He gave her a meaningful look. “I’ll stop,” he ground out, “as soon as you start showing some fucking common sense!” He inhaled deeply to regain his calm. “There’s no cover out there. You’ll be a sitting duck the moment you go through that door.”

“So cover me.” Using the barrel of her gun she pushed his arm away. “Now, move, before that son of a bitch gets away.”

Her impatience and complete lack of caution was wearing thin fast. He bit back another curse. “Stay behind me,” he ordered once again, but didn’t delude himself that she might actually listen.

Taking a deep breath, he braced his weapon in both hands, then crashed through the door, fired two shots at Creed’s moving shadow, rolled over the gravel-covered roof of the building, and took cover behind a large ventilation shaft. It was barely big enough to shield his large bulk, but he gladly took it. With a quick scan, he took in the expanse of roof. And immediately spotted the wiry shape of Jonathan Creed sprinting toward the edge at breakneck speed.

Rory took aim again, just as the man leaped.

There was a flash of movement as Lena ran past him, gun blazing.

Landing on the roof of the next building, Creed faltered.

Yes!

Even from this distance, Rory could see blood pouring from his calf. But it didn’t bring him down. He limped twice but still ran for the cover of the stairwell, where he disappeared from sight.

Damn.

A trail of Lena’s bullets followed him until that last moment, missing him by fractions, plowing into concrete and brick until a click and a curse announced she was out of ammunition.

Rory sprinted toward her as she peered calculatedly over the edge. A good twelve feet separated the buildings.

“Are you fucking insane?” He grabbed her arm, just in case.

Naturally, she tried to pull loose. He didn’t give an inch. At last, with a huff of disappointment she lowered her weapon and removed the empty clip.

“Fast little bastard, isn’t he?” she muttered, but not without a note of admiration. “Takes guts to make a jump like that.” A hard look appeared in her eyes as she wiped at the perspiration on her upper lip. “Shame I have to kill him.”

The sounds of police sirens cut through the busy burr of city noises below.

“Well, fun as that was,” she said cheerfully enough for Rory to want to throttle her, “we should get out of here before the cops show up.”

He just clamped his jaw and followed her to the stairs. Still fuming, he considered what had just happened. An awful lot of those bullets had been aimed at him. Clearly, Creed wanted him out of the way, leaving Nina vulnerable to whatever game he was playing.

They met Jericho and Westlake two floors down. Rory brought them up to speed as they made their way down to their waiting car, the four of them casually talking as local law enforcement arrived with screaming sirens. No one stopped them, or even looked at them as the cops rushed into the building, but Rory didn’t breathe easy until they had picked up their things at the hotel and were on their way to their new safe location.

Which, this time, he hoped to God was actually safe.