17
Not for the first time, Garrett’s mind wandered far astray, his mind taking him somewhere else entirely. He sat back, reclining in his chair. He ought to go home, and he knew it. Gathering his things, he readied himself to leave when the call came through.
He almost didn’t answer, having turned away from his desk. He paused, eyed the caller ID, and answered.
“Garrett? Garrett get out of there now! She’s sent a hitman after you. He’s probably watching you right now. You’ve got to get out of there right now!”
Garrett stared for a moment in shock, before it dawned on him what Devon meant. He needed to get to the safe room, and he needed to get Sarah there, too. He headed out the door, heading down the hall.
As he made it to her door, he peered carefully in. He waited until she looked up, and waved his hand, letting her know he wanted her to come to him. Sarah obliged, standing and crossing the room to him. She smiled prettily, looking up at him with a curious smile that died away when she saw his expression.
“What–”“Elizabeth sent a shooter, we need to go. “Garrett watched her expression go completely blank. She didn’t hesitate to follow after him as they quickly headed for the elevator. Sarah was first to arrive, and when she looked up at the dial she could see that the elevator was already on the ninetieth floor and rising. She grabbed Garrett’s wrist, and tugged him to the right of the elevator.
“We’ve been at lunch since twelve,” Garrett called to his receptionists, thinking quickly. “We went out, if anyone asks. “Sarah led him quickly to the stairs, and they began to descend. She was trying to call the police from her cell phone, though it didn’t seem to be working. As they climbed down the stairs, they heard the elevator open. They froze, listening as they waited with bated breath; the safe room was on the ninety-fifth floor. Suddenly Garrett heard two small pops, and two thuds. His heart ran cold, knowing what had happened.
Sarah gave him a curious look and he blanched all the more, the empty nakedness of having no way to protect himself made him uncomfortable, vulnerable even. He gently nudged Sarah on, indicating silence with his finger. She continued on, heading down the stairs as quickly as she could when they heard the door above them open.
Garrett’s arm plastered Sarah against the wall behind them and he leaned them both into it, quietly waiting to hear more from above. He could hear someone listening, and the uncomfortable prey-like feeling he felt now was weighing heavily on his chest. He knew he was being hunted now, and the fear made him anxious.
Eventually, after a lifetime of waiting, the door opened and shut. Sarah was the first to move, and if Garrett had thought about it he wouldn’t have let her; he knew the tactic, after all. He’d served as a security guard a lifetime ago, and he knew immediately that Sarah had made a mistake when her heel connected with the next stair, making a clicking sound.
In the moment he could see everything: the moment she decided to take a step, and the moment he missed her. Everything seemed to have slowed down and Garrett watched as he missed saving Sarah from making the mistake. Then the moment was over, and he heard the feet above him move down the stairs.
As Garrett moved to follow her, he shoved Sarah forward, and threw open the door to the ninety-fifth floor as the two bolted inside.
Garrett ran for the door of the safe room, carefully punching in the numbers with trembling fingers. Sarah stayed close, staring at the stairwell door with fear in her eyes. As the keypad dinged cheerfully, the door slid open to allow them inside. Garret pushed Sarah in first, and turned just in time to see the stairwell door open.
The man was a rough-cut-looking fellow, with gaunt features and a deliberate, annoyed look to his face. He wore a tan leather duster on top of a dark blue shirt and pants; all cheap, as far as Garrett could tell. For a moment, their eyes met and Garrett could see the cold detachment there; this man was not angry, he was a professional. He raised a gun, the silencer giving only a muffled pop as he pulled the trigger.
Garrett felt a flash of pain before he was slipping inside the already closing door of the safe room. He shut and locked the door behind him, seconds before he heard another pop, and saw a dent form just inches from his chest on the door. Another pop, and another. Garrett backed away, the pain still lancing across the back of his shoulders.
Sarah gasped, gazing at Garrett’s back, now trailing blood. For a moment, she looked as if she might faint. How had that happened? Blood ran down in little rivulets along his back and down to his belt line. She reached out to touch it as they went to the far side of the room. “Are you alright?” “Yeah… grazed at best. That’s why it’s across my whole back.”
“Let me look.”
Sarah was very much her mother's daughter, it seemed, and her instinct to protect and care for the people she loved was instant and undeniable. Garrett had learned long ago not to struggle. He removed his jacket, careful to keep from visibly wincing. He removed his shirt as well, and then remembered Devon.
“Go ahead and patch me up. I’m going to reach out to Devon.”
“Right. You’re welcome, by the way.”
“Thank you, Sarah.”
Sarah gave an approving smile as Garrett texted Devon. The injury was as he’d said: superfluous but bloody. It wouldn’t likely cause him trouble in the future. He had been lucky; she had been lucky. Sarah tore his shirt into strips and tied their ends together, wrapping his chest as he texted.
Devon replied to him quickly, letting him know that police were in the building heading for him, and that they were also en-route to the airport to arrest Elizabeth. Devon’s phone app had recorded the entire conversation between Elizabeth and the hired killer. He’d even tracked the man to a GPS inside the building’s parking lot, and that was when he’d called Garrett. Devon instructed them not to come out until he got there and opened the door himself, and Garrett was satisfied with that. They could definitely wait.