Surviving The Storm. Heather Woodhaven
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As soon as he got them out of this, he’d walk away before she could play with his heart again. Until then, he was in charge. No objections.
“What do you mean, George was right? I didn’t think the remodel involved the attic.” She groaned. “I should’ve noticed. The new design added more rooms, so...”
“They had to change the load-bearing walls,” he finished. “It was impossible to structure it otherwise. You didn’t design this train wreck, did you?”
“No,” she said, her voice clipped.
He exhaled loudly. Why was he so bent on antagonizing her? What had come over him? “I didn’t think so. George should’ve asked you to look over the proposals.”
“I should’ve asked,” she said, her voice timid. “You’re sure the materials they used were subpar?”
“Not just the materials. The engineering. No one factored in the point loads needing to be carried down to the foundation.” If it were anyone else besides Aria, he would have put it in simpler terms and said the walls could come tumbling down. Especially if there were an earthquake, as was high probability on the coast—the same risk as Japan, in fact.
Aria groaned. “You...you know where we’re going?”
“You don’t become foreman at my age without knowing your way around an attic.” He cringed the moment he said it. As his family could attest, his ego bristled easily in moments of stress, and his big mouth took over control.
“I know my way around an attic too. What I really want to know is the plan.”
He clenched the ladder tighter and took longer strides. He felt the back end of the ladder swing, and Aria shrieked. He froze and twisted so the light shining from his tool belt would find her. “You okay?”
She was straddled across the wood joists set two feet apart. How she managed to move so fast without falling through the drywall was a testament to her time on construction sites.
She gritted her teeth. “Yeah.” She blew out a breath. “Could you please keep in mind I have much shorter legs than you?”
It was more an order than a question. “Sorry,” he grunted then leaned forward. His pride wanted to make sure she knew what she was missing, and instead it was making him behave insensitively. He needed the Lord’s help with his attitude. There was only so much a man could take in one day.
David spotted the raised rectangle two feet ahead on his right. He walked forward until he remembered his maneuver a few seconds ago had almost sent Aria tumbling through the ceiling. “I’m setting the ladder down so I can open our exit.”
She didn’t respond, but he could feel her movements—through the vibrations of the ladder—mimic his own. He flipped open the exit and took a tentative sniff. He didn’t think there were enough chemicals left in the jugs to harm them this far away, but he wanted to be sure. “Clear,” he whispered. “To play it safe, we need to be quiet.”
They moved in unison, sliding the ladder down through the hole until it made contact with the floor.
“It’s going to make noise when we step on it,” Aria murmured.
“So let’s step fast.” David turned around and caught sight of her face, framed in curls. So trusting, so beautiful... He thought she had been perfect for him. He clenched his jaw and looked down. “Let’s go.”
His foot made contact with every other rung. He reached the floor before Aria was even on the ladder. He rushed to the door leading to the hallway. Past the balcony, he could make out one suit on the hallway floor, his hand over his head. Then where was the other suit?
A gunshot rang from above. Aria screamed. David darted back to the ladder. She slid the rest of the way down, right into his arms. “Are you okay?” he asked. Her T-shirt and khaki pants didn’t seem to show any evidence of blood.
She shivered but nodded as she found her footing. “I saw a light on the other side of the attic. It’s the Robert guy. He’s up there.”
“Then we don’t have a lot of time.” David yanked the ladder down to the ground, grabbed Aria’s hand and sprinted for the curved staircase.
“Short legs,” she huffed. He let go of her hand but almost came to a complete stop at the sight of George. He was on the tile, on his side, his hand over his heart.
Aria passed David on the staircase and sprinted across the lobby floor. “George,” she whispered. She fell to her knees in front of him. “George. Answer me,” she begged. “Please!”
David reached her side and kneeled. His friend, and boss for a day, had his eyes closed and looked pale. Even if help arrived within the minute, it didn’t look as if he had a chance. David felt for George’s pulse on his right hand.
George’s eyes fluttered open and darted between David and Aria. The man smirked and closed his eyes again. “Two favorite people,” he whispered, his voice hoarse from the strain.
“Help is on the way. We need to get you away from those men. Just hold on.” Aria placed her hand on George’s left hand, pressing against his gunshot wound. “Help me move him, David.”
George licked his lips and opened his eyes again. “No, sweetheart.” He took a ragged breath. “I’m ready.” His stare moved to David. “My desk.” Another breath. “The drive.” He sighed. “Make it right.” He closed his eyes. “Proud of you.”
“I can’t lose you, George,” Aria said. George didn’t move or respond. She turned to David and shook his arm. “Help me! I can’t lose him.”
The pulse beneath David’s fingers disappeared. His shoulders sagged. “We can’t save him, Aria.” He cleared the emotion from his throat. “He’s gone.”
She shook her head. “No. George, stay with me.” Her voice cracked. Tears filled her eyes.
David’s chest burned with restrained agony. He let go of his boss’s hand and reached for Aria. He was ashamed he’d ever spoken to her with anything but kindness.
A thump reverberated from above. In his peripheral vision, he spotted a flash of black approaching the balcony. The gunman had jumped from the attic. David shoved Aria down to the ground as a bullet crashed through the twenty-foot-high front window of the lobby. A cascade of shattered glass dropped to the floor.
His eardrums seared with the pain of such a violent crash, but his first priority was Aria’s safety. He jumped over her, grabbed her arm and slid her crouched form across the floor until they were past the corner of the reception counter. He ducked as a series of bullets lodged in the wall behind him. “This guy’s nuts!”
Aria’s wide eyes and shallow breathing grabbed his focus. He put his hands on her shoulders. “Aria. Are you okay?”
She shook her head. “No,” she whispered. She blinked and, as she inhaled, pulled her shoulders back as if she’d put on armor. “But I know we have to go. I think I know the way out.”
She slithered