Page 73 of The Deadly Shallows

Macken ran after him, and without thought Brooke followed.

“Brooke! Stop,” Noah hollered from down the hall. “Stop!” His voice grew closer.

I can’t let him get away! She burst through the emergency exit and caught sight of Macken racing down the stairs and only a flash of the man’s blue scrubs as he rounded another level.

Noah hobbled as fast as his wounded leg would carry him, but Brooke was rounding the next level down when he finally made it into the stairwell, red lights flashing from the triggered emergency-exit alarm.

“Brooke!” he bellowed, his voice nearly drowned out by the shrieking alarm. He started to rush down the steps, only to nearly topple headlong down the concrete stairs. He had to move faster. He sat on his bum and slid down step-by-step at as rapid a pace as he could manage. Searing pain throbbed in his thigh, but he had to keep moving.

The pounding of footsteps stopped.

Shots fired—one, two, three bursts.

His chest constricted, the air knocked from his lungs.

Brooke.

THIRTY-EIGHT

Her legs and arms trembling, Brooke hurried up the stairs, knowing Noah had followed. She rounded the stairwell onto the second-floor landing and froze.

Noah.

Crimson blood trailed down the steps behind him.

She rushed to his side and knelt down. His thigh was covered with blood. No doubt he’d busted open his stitches. “Are you crazy?”

He cupped the side of her face, his hand sliding along her hair. “You’re safe.” He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them—a look of peace settling in his deep, brown eyes.

At the sound of footfalls, she looked back and saw Macken round the corner. “Noah, this is Petty Officer First Class Macken.”

“The shots?” Noah asked.

“Hit the emergency door,” Macken said, wiping the perspiration from his furrowed brow. “I had a split second to slam it shut before the rounds embedded in the door.”

Noah clasped Brooke’s hand. “I’ll get my CSI man out here pronto. Finn can pull the slugs, and we might learn something.”

“It was him,” Brooke said, helplessness settling in the pit of her stomach. She’d been at that evil man’s mercy, and he’d had none.

Noah’s expression hardened. “Who?”

Brooke took a steeling breath. “The man who . . .” She looked at the marks on her arms. “Did this.”

“You’re sure?” he asked, his jaw tightening.

She nodded, her stomach lurching. “I never saw his face, but I recognized his gravelly voice.”

Noah clearly tried to mask his deep concern, but it edged in the creases by his eyes. “Did you see his face now?”

She nodded.

Alarm fixed on Noah’s brow.

She could identify her abductor, and the man knew it. She swallowed, needing to cut off those thoughts and focus on the present. “We need to get you back to your room,” she said, hoping Noah would let that vein of discussion drop—at least for now.

Working in unison, Brooke and Macken slipped Noah’s arms across their shoulders and lifted him up between them.

Halfway up the last flight of stairs, Noah wriggled in their hold. “I can hop the rest of the way.”