and I’m exhausted.”
“Tough. Get your fanny down here.”
“Thanks, but…” Her voice trailed off as movement caught the corner of her eye. Robin glanced into the Remmington Imports office on her right.
And froze at the sight of a tall, bald man aiming a gun at a second man who slowly raised his hands. Shocked and unable to process what she was seeing, Robin couldn’t move.
A resounding bang made her shriek. Every cell in her body screamed run! But for half a second her legs were paralyzed.
“What was that?” Jenn’s voice cried through the phone.
Robin stared through the window at the limp body on the floor. Blood spread across his crisp white shirt and seeped into the carpeting.
“He shot him.” Then her gaze drifted up from the wounded man to the shooter.
Cold, black eyes stared back at her. Death eyes.
He stepped toward Robin, pointed his gun…
She took off like the eighth-grade, track-and-field champ that she once was. Do it for your brother. Make him proud.
Her brother, Kyle. Looks like she’d be joining him soon. In heaven.
“No,” she groaned, turning a corner. She had more to do. She wasn’t ready to leave. She had to raise money for children’s cancer research. And, she wanted to raise a few kids herself someday.
Swiping her card, she ducked into the break room, flipped the lights off and crouched low to keep out of sight. She’d hide in here and call the police. Her phone, where was it?
The door beeped, and her heart jumped into her throat. The shooter had a passkey? She dropped to the floor, crawling through the darkened break room away from the killer.
Killer. She’d just seen a man murdered. In cold blood.
“No use running,” a male voice called out.
Robin took a slow deep breath and continued her crawl toward the exit. Think! Pull the fire alarm. That would bring help. But they wouldn’t show up fast enough to save Robin from this monster.
“I like the dark, too,” he taunted.
In the window’s reflection she spied the guy pointing his gun under tables, ready to pop off another round.
Into her.
She whipped open the door at the other end of the room, lunged into the hallway and pulled the fire alarm. Water sprayed from the ceiling as she scrambled to the stairs and hurled herself toward the ground level.
Pfft!
A bullet ricocheted off the wall mere inches from her head. Focus, girl!
“Get back here!” the man called. “A witness is on her way down. North stairs,” he said in a calm voice. “Take her out.”
Hoping to throw him off, Robin flew down three flights, whipped open the door and raced to the south stairwell. She couldn’t die tonight. There were a thousand people depending on her to run the cancer walk Sunday.
Strange, the odd things that rush through your brain when you’re being chased by a killer.
She practically tumbled down the last two flights of stairs to the street level and threw open the door. Now that she was outside, she couldn’t get to her car in the basement garage.
“Hey!” a tall, broad-shouldered man called, crossing the street.
“Take her out,” the killer had ordered.
She spun around and sprinted in the opposite direction, braced for the bullet that would surely hit her square in the back.
But he didn’t shoot her. She sensed he chased her, but she was fast, fueled by adrenaline.
For Kyle, Robin had said, as she’d placed her medal on her brother’s trophy. His one trophy. He hadn’t had time to win more.
“Stop!” the man called out.
Closer. He sounded too close.
She glanced over her shoulder—
A car horn snapped her attention to an SUV careening toward her, brakes screeching. Before she could react, it hit her, slamming her to the pavement and knocking the wind out of her lungs. As she struggled to breathe, all she could think about was how disappointed Mom would be. After all, it was Robin’s job to make her parents doubly proud in order to ease the pain of losing a child.
Robin glanced up at the dark sky, hoping her brother would be the one to take her to heaven. Suddenly, her view was blocked by a man’s blue-green, intense eyes.
“Don’t move,” he said. “Everything will be okay.”
She closed her eyes, and a tear trailed down her cheek. I’m coming, Kyle, I’m coming.
Jake Walters paced the emergency room like a man waiting on the birth of his first child—only the woman he worried about was a complete stranger.
He couldn’t shake the terrified look he’d seen in her eyes.
Or the look of surrender before she’d closed them.
He’d thought for sure she was dead, killed running away from him and into the path of a moving vehicle.
But he’d meant her no harm. He’d been on a stakeout for his cop buddy Ethan Beck when he’d seen the petite woman flee the building as if she’d just seen a ghost.
Or a murder.
Minutes after the ambulance arrived at the scene, Ethan, a detective with the Seattle P.D., had called Jake to let him know a report of shots fired at the Chambers Building had been called in by a cleaning crew, and Ethan was on his way with backup.
Jake had told Ethan about the woman fleeing the building, and Ethan had asked Jake to stay with her until the ambulance arrived. Yeah, like anything could have ripped Jake away from the woman’s side? He’d felt responsible for her condition.
Now, an hour later at the hospital, Jake paced the E.R. waiting area and fisted his hand. The brunette was a stranger, and Jake had no legitimate reason to be here, but he’d stay close until he knew she was okay.
He leaned against the wall next to the E.R. doors and waited. He’d done his share of waiting with Mom as she’d fought the cancer that had taken her life.
Waiting drove him nuts.
“Jake?” Ethan said, walking toward him. Two of his men trailed close behind. “Hey, man, thanks for hanging around.”
They shook hands. Ethan and Jake had grown up together, fought off bullies in their Seattle neighborhood together, and joined the army together. Although they’d been split up in Iraq, they’d reconnected after they’d shipped home and had ended up in similar fields: Ethan, a detective for the Seattle P.D., and
