Page 76 of Until the End

Oh God, the box had to be here. If it wasn’t, there was no time to wait for the delivery and they might not get a chance to return.

They needed the information to stop the attack. And the wrong person could do terrible things with Ever Shield if they got their hands on it.

Castle left her side. His hands clenched, no sign of fear on his face. Her personal commando looked ready to take on an army.

“Bingo!” the clerk announced. “Had it categorized by department.”

Lenny took the box and in turn handed it to Kit.

She clutched the package to her chest, vowing never to part with the hard drives again. “Thank you.”

“Are we good?” he asked, rubbing her arm.

“Yes.”

“Go, Kit,” Castle said. “Right now.”

A truck pulled out of the bay. Two men rushed inside through the open door, spotted them, and ran toward the dock.

Castle grabbed Kit’s arm and hurried her and Lenny through the double doors. “Keep going and don’t stop for anything while I take care of these two.” He slipped into the darkness underneath the stairwell.

She and Lenny hit the steps, racing upward. She heard the double doors swing open, slamming against the wall. Noises from a scuffle echoed below.

When they reached the main floor and stepped out into the light, she took a deep breath, fighting the urge to go back. There had been two against one. She might be able to help—she had a gun. Castle was strong and capable, but—

“Come on.” Lenny wrapped an arm around her, guiding her along the corridor.

“We can’t leave him. What if he’s in trouble and needs our help?”

“He can handle himself,” Lenny said, his tone so cold she barely recognized him. “We have to get out of here.”

They moved as quickly as possible without running, trying not to draw attention. Leaving Castle behind felt thirteen shades of wrong, but he had told her to keep going and not to stop.

“Hello, luv,” Alistair said in her ear.

She sensed she was being watched and looked around but didn’t see the irritating Brit anywhere.

“Up here.”

Her gaze flicked to the upper landing to find Alistair staring at her.

He winked. “There’s a guy coming for you.”

“What? Where?”

Alistair tapped his ear, reminding her to key the comms device so he could hear her.

She tapped the button. “What are you talking about?”

“Red MIT sweatshirt,” Alistair said. “See him?”

Her heart stuttered, gaze searching frantically for the person he was talking about. Students and teachers seated at tables and in comfy lounge chairs chatted in groups. Others milled about reading and typing on their laptops. Plenty strolled the halls, sipping coffee.

“Do you know how many freaking people are wearing MIT sweatshirts?” She glanced back at the second level, but the damn Scouser was gone.

Where in the hell did he go?

“He’s the one headed your way,” Alistair said low in her ear in that smooth, posh, fake accent, his tone riding the eerie cusp between intimate and playful. Reminded her of Hannibal Lecter talking to Clarice. This was a piss-poor time to play games. She wanted to scream as she spun in a circle, trying to find the assailant who had her in his sights.