CHAPTER 28
Tim moved as slowly as he could without prompting a shove between the shoulder blades that would send him to the ground a second time.
He’d fallen to his knees in the moments after entering Lifeline, Ken and John looming over him. The temptation to lash out with a leg sweep was strong, and if it had only been him to worry about, he’d have taken the risk. But with Erin supposedly trapped in the back of the truck, he exercised a little caution, until he’d given her enough time to get out and go for help.
Right now it was a waiting game. He’d gotten stuck in the back of a truck once by drunken friends who thought it was a hilarious joke. Even with his blood alcohol running on high, it hadn’t taken much to figure out a way past the locks. Erin should be out in no time.
Once she was free, he calculated it would take another five minutes to run to the highway and flag someone down. Use their cell phone and get the police on the way. If he could stall for a good fifteen minutes, the two assholes tormenting him would be out of his and Erin’s life for a long time.
“Find the damn backpack,” Ken demanded again.
Only the hall lights lit their path. “If I could turn on more lights—”
“Nice try, but no. We don’t need anyone spotting the place lit up.”
“It’s not that strange,” Tim insisted. “My truck is outside, and this is a search-and-rescue base. People come and go at all hours around here.”
“Just find the bag.”
John stepped past him into the staff area and started going through lockers, jerking contents to the floor. Heavy coats, personal storage bags, all of it a mess underfoot.
“That first storage area you checked—is it the only one in the building?” Ken asked.
“No, I’m working my way through them logically. It’s how we do a search—”
He bit back his grunt of pain as Ken hit him in the back of the head with a fist. “I’m not interested in the lessons, flyboy. Think. Where would they have put that pack?”
“Do you know what was in it? I mean other than what you’re looking for?” Tim moved toward the second storage center. “Ropes? First-aid supplies? That makes a difference where someone would unpack it for storage.”
Meanwhile his brain was ticking down an imaginary timer. Erin should be free by now. She should be nearly at the road by now . . .
Ken paused. “Plastic bags filled with gel. Water bottles,” he offered reluctantly.
Shit. Tim nodded slowly as if deliberating hard, careful to keep his expression neutral. This one was too easy if the ass used his brain instead of the damn gun. “Definitely storage area,” he lied. “That’s where the extra medical supplies like that are kept.”
He opened the door to the oversized room and stepped forward, jerking to a halt as he spotted an arm disappearing around the shelving stack in the right corner.
My God, that was Erin. His heart raced again. What the fuck was she doing here instead of getting help? He paused as if trying to figure out the right direction to go, but his brain was spinning. This changed everything.
Keeping his cool in stressful situations wasn’t usually an issue. Not losing his shit over the woman he loved being back in danger? That was tougher.
Academy Award–quality acting time. He pointed to the left. “Best guess is over here.”
Ken motioned him toward the large set of storage lockers, and Tim went willingly. He opened one set of doors at a time, pushing aside the front items. Taking things down carefully and putting them back into place.
John was still missing, and from the sounds in the background, he was still in the staff room causing chaos.
“There. What’s that?” Ken asked as Tim swung open the doors on the transport bag cabinet.
“This is where the large bags are kept,” Tim explained. “It might have been misplaced in here.” It was also the location for his medical bag. One step forward, and he pulled aside the front couple of bags, a huge sense of relief sweeping in as the brilliant red of the cross on the label shone at him—
Then vanished as the room flashed into darkness.
Tim ignored the shouts behind him and focused on dragging open the zippered compartment under his fingers.
* * *
Erin slipped her hands off the master power switch, turning without a pause toward the main area of HQ.
She’d seen Tim and Ken in storage, leaving John as the one now fumbling in the dark in the staff area. With the set of night vision goggles she’d pulled off the shelf, she had a definite advantage, adding to her knowledge of the building layout.
Before Ken’s shout of dismay had faded, she was at the staff room door, the glowing green form of a body shuffling toward her with his arms extended to the sides.
Erin gave in to her frustrations and lashed out with a rapid kick to his chest. With no advance warning to brace himself, John went flying backward, a loud crash sounding as he hit the floor.
She grabbed the door and slammed it shut, engaging the lock. Two steps put her at the side of the tall metal filing cabinet.
With mental apologies to Marcus for making a mess, she put her shoulder to the top. It took two rocks to set the heavy object in motion, but once it started, it didn’t stop until it, too, hit the floor with an enormous clang that echoed off the walls.
“Don’t move,” Ken ordered, his shout ringing in the storage area.
Bullshit on that. Her heart might be about to pound out of her chest, but she wasn’t done.
Erin grabbed a spray can from the shelf as she stepped carefully down the hall. The open door to the storage area was up ahead on the right. She walked with her arm extended in front of her, finger on the top of the plastic plunger. Her hand was steady, and she forced herself to breathe slowly, calming herself as she took the final steps forward.
The ghostly images of two bodies appeared, one close to her, one by the shelves. All three of them silent, only the pounding of John’s fists on the staff door drifting down to them.
Staccato. Harsh.
Ken adjusted his hand to the side, as if trying to track Tim in the dark.
Tim remained silent. The glow of his outline decreased in size as he got down on the floor. Smart man—smaller target for Ken if he did take a shot.
Only Ken was backing up, one hand running along the wall. Was he looking for the exit? Trying to escape? Erin pressed herself back against the hall, waiting until the moment was right . . .
The keys stored on the wall jingled under Ken’s fingers. Tim was on his feet, body doubling in size, arm rising.
As if observing a slow-motion video, Erin spotted her mistake. With her move forward, and Tim’s adjustment along the floor, it wasn’t only Ken who stood in the potential line of fire. If that was a gun in Tim’s hand, she was hooped. She had only an instant to react. She shouted the first thing that came to mind.
“Spider.”
Layered on top of each other came the responses.
Ken whirled toward her. A shot rang out. Erin pressed the top of the can.
Chaos broke.