Patrick

One moment I was staring at the elevator doors, trying to talk myself out of taking Nya back to the suite for yet another round. The next, instinct took over.

I’d been perfectly calm, if more than a little distracted by my companion, but as the elevator doors had started to slide open, I was instantly uneasy. And when I saw the barrel of the gun, I sprang into action.

I didn’t look at Nya. Instead, I kept my gaze on the elevator, saw that there were two men in the car, both with weapons in their hands. Shotguns. Not good for precision but they were brute force weapons that would take a target down fast. And indiscriminately.

Not even a second later, I pulled Nya toward me and started to run. Almost instantly, the sound of the shotgun blast filled the formerly peaceful hallway. I didn’t look back, though, and instead kept moving, dragging Nya behind me.

My first impulse was to stay, fight. It would be tougher without a gun, but I could handle the two in the elevator. They had valuable information I needed, like who they were, and, more importantly, who had sent them.

It went against everything I’d been taught, everything I believed, to run, but with Nya to think about, I couldn’t risk it.

When we rounded the corner what felt like an eternity later but had in actuality been less than three seconds, I spared a precious moment to look at her.

Her eyes were wide, the shock in them intensifying with each second, but she was moving.

That would have to do for now.

I headed toward the Exit sign, pulled on Nya’s arm when she tried to go toward it.

Our pursuers were behind us, and that they hadn’t shot again told me that they were only going to do so when they were close to their target, which I had no other choice than to assume was me.

The stairwell was obvious and would leave us with no viable exit, so we couldn’t go there. So I continued on toward the service entrance. I hurriedly punched in the code, felt a moment’s victory when the red light on the keypad turned green. I wasted no time pushing open the heavy metal doors and dragging Nya through them.

Behind the doors was a freight elevator and a second set of service stairs.

The elevator would be quicker, but offered no exit.

“The stairs,” I whispered gruffly.

Nya didn’t speak, but she kicked off those beautiful but impractical heels and started moving. In another circumstance, I would have smiled. Instead, I simply tightened my hand on hers.

Down we went, me going as fast as I dared.

Nya didn’t make a sound, kept up as best she could, and my esteem for her rose. With most, I would have expected tears, histrionics, but save her wild-eyed look, there was nothing.

Admirable, especially since she didn’t seem like the type who was comfortable with being shot at.

Boom.

Speaking of shots…

I looked back in time to see the plaster shatter where it was hit by the bullet, long enough to see that my pursuers followed and were getting closer. I looked to Nya and saw her eyes even wider, fear displacing the shock, though that would be back soon enough.

I ran even faster, and as we went down yet another flight of stairs, I yanked the fire alarm. Almost instantly, a loud, wailing screech filled the hallway.

My brother Michael was going to be pissed about this, but desperate times and all that. After we went down two more flights, I again keyed in the code to the service entrance and pulled Nya into the guests’ hallway. Groggy, confused-looking patrons began to emerge and fill the corridor, the low murmur of voices and questions of what was happening animating the hall.

I didn’t listen or join in, though. Instead, I kept moving, pulled Nya down to the opposite end of the hallway. I froze when the stairwell door opened, not sure what was on the other side, but relaxed when Eden, the hotel’s assistant general manager stepped out. I kept out of her line of sight but watched as she addressed the crowd.

“Can I have your attention? There’s no official report of a fire, but the alarm system has been activated. Those of you who are able, please make your way down the stairs and to the lobby. If you need assistance, let me know, and I’ll see that you’re escorted down.”

Eden’s calm voice and clear directions got the crowd moving, and though there were still murmurs and confusion, most of the guests began to head down the stairs. I made sure Nya and I mingled with the gathering crowd that got larger and larger as we went.

It was a gamble, but one I had to take. The shooters had been conservative with their shots, which told me they weren’t interested in drawing too much attention. So the safest place for me and Nya was in that crowd.

As we moved, I noticed that she still held my hand tight, and risked looking at her. Some of the fear had waned, but as I’d thought, the shock was creeping in. Before I could stop myself, I squeezed her hand. She looked surprised for a moment but then squeezed back. That small gesture gave me some measure of reassurance, reassurance I hadn’t even known I needed until this moment.

I couldn’t say what had made me try to reassure her, why I was so happy that she’d done the same. But whatever the reason, I was glad to see her comforted, glad that I could help hold off the panic, if only for a little while longer.

But I still had other matters to attend to, so I focused on getting us the hell out of here. By now, the shooters would have ditched their weapons to try blending in with the crowd just as I was. But they knew who I was, while I had no such advantage. And even in these tight confines, a dedicated person could get close enough to shoot me, stab me, and all without anyone being the wiser, so I had to stay on alert until we got out of here.

A process that seemed to be taking for fucking ever, but that was probably just my own anxiousness talking. The crowd was moving steadily, and I breathed a little easier with each floor we descended.

When we finally spilled out into the lobby, a fraction of the tightness that had been squeezing my chest loosened.

The lobby was rapidly filling, guests pouring out of the stairwells and toward the front door.

Still holding Nya’s hand, I went to the farthest door toward the covered valet entrance.

That would be our escape.

I moved toward it deliberately, not pausing for anything. When I finally burst through the door, heard the sounds of the city around me, I felt even more relief. Too much relief would be premature, especially since we weren’t out of danger yet, but we were getting closer.

I made my way toward the valet stand. It had been left unattended and unsecured, something I would make sure Michael addressed with the staff. But first…

I grabbed the key for what I knew to be one of the fastest cars money could buy and clicked the Unlock button. I followed the sound until I spotted the car and moved toward it urgently but not in a way that would draw much attention.

Once I reached it, I pushed Nya into the passenger side and quickly rounded to the driver’s side. In less than a minute, we were gone.

I glanced back at the rearview mirror and watched as the hotel faded from view. Then, I looked at my passenger, again trying to gauge her reaction.

Still calm, but her edges were beginning to fray. And I was about to make that much, much worse.

When we were a couple miles from the hotel, I stopped in a nearly abandoned parking lot, put the car in Park, and then turned to look at her.

She blinked, her long lashes framing beautiful brown eyes that, even now, were beginning to suck me in. But I couldn’t be deterred, not yet. So I steeled myself, watched her. Waited, and used those long seconds to study her.

At first she looked confused.

“Why aren’t you driving?” she finally asked.

Her voice was still sexy, feminine, deep, but unlike last night, there was uncertainty in it, almost fear, driven by what had happened before no doubt, but also by what was happening now. Still, she was surprisingly calm, or at least doing a good job of pretending to be.

I didn’t respond, and she pulled her brows together, the skin between them furrowing. The impulse to smooth that furrow, kiss her soft skin, came at me like a freight train, but I resisted, kept my eyes on hers and stayed silent.

I could see her calculating, puzzling, wondering. And I saw the exact moment that her confusion changed to fear.

It was subtle at first, in one blink, her eyes questioning, in the next, unease creeping into her gaze.

A delayed reaction, I was sure, but one I had been expecting. As calm as she’d been, as much as she’d held it together, there was no way she could look down the barrel of a gun and not react. Not unless I had been very wrong about her. And that break, the fear that was creeping into her gaze was my cue to find out.

Because scared people were honest, and her honesty was the only thing that would get her out of this unscathed.

I leaned closer, saw that she wanted to recoil but didn’t, and I felt a little bit of pride for her at that. She really was tough, but that toughness wouldn’t help her now, not if she couldn’t convince me.

I waited a second longer, and then, eyes never leaving hers, I asked the question that would determine whether the beautiful, passionate Nya Henderson lived or died.

“Nya, did someone hire you to kill me?”