Page 94 of Armed ’N’ Ready

“Move!” Meera waved her gun back and forth until her path was clear.

Nick aimed down the stairs, but people were scurrying in all directions. Getting a clean shot without risking innocent lives wasn’t possible.

Meera flung open the door and pushed Andi through first.

“Make way!” he shouted, louder this time. “Saxon!” he added, urging his dog to keep barking.

As he shoved people aside, the pain intensified, but he kept pressing forward. Eventually he reached the door Meera and Andi had disappeared through. No sooner did he grab the handle and yank on it when another red-hot burning sensation speared him dead-center in his chest, and he staggered. Saxon clawed at the floor, uttering a low growl.

“Fuss.” He wanted Saxon to heel at his side, not launch into the hallway and get shot.

When the spasm passed to the point where he could see straight, he went through the doorway, leading with his gun. Thirty feet down the corridor Meera was shoving Andi into an open elevator.

He and Saxon charged down the hallway. Every beat of his heart made his chest throb, but he couldn’t stop. Wouldn’t stop. Not until he’d gotten Andi to safety.

Or died trying.

Just as he and Saxon got to the elevator, the doors closed. He shouted his frustration and slammed his fist on the metal door. The pain reverberating in his torso was so fierce he fell to his knees. Nausea engulfed him. His vision swam, teetering on darkness, and this time it took longer to clear. When it did, he noticed splotches of blood on the carpet in front of his knees. Dammit. He was losing blood quickly, and he couldn’t see or hear straight. His senses were royally fucked up. Soon the energy would drain from his body like air from a popped balloon.

“Nick, where are you?” Eric’s voice demanded from the radio.

Sucking in quick breaths through his nose and open mouth, Nick raised his eyes to the glowing succession of numbers over the elevator doors as it ascended. Though it killed him to wait, he did, watching the red numbers change as the car kept going up.

With the building on lockdown, he’d expected the elevator to descend, or at least stop on another floor. But it kept climbing.

Fourth floor.

What the hell was she planning?

Fifth floor.

“Nick? What’s your twenty?”

“Stand by,” he gasped, waiting for the elevator lights to stop changing.

The letter R glowed above the closed elevator doors.

“They’re on the roof.” Why, he didn’t know. There’d be no way off.

Saxon whined and licked the side of Nick’s face. His dog knew every nuance of Nick’s behavior. Seeing him on the floor, unmoving and smelling of fresh blood, wasn’t normal.

Keep moving. Have to get to Andi. She was everything to him, and he cursed himself for screwing up his priorities. Avenging Tanya’s death for his own personal reasons seemed so pointless now.

“Help me up, buddy.” He rested his hand on Saxon’s back, using him for balance as he pushed to his feet. When he was vertical, his vision darkened again, and he leaned one hand on the elevator doors, waiting for the moment to pass.

Frantic, he began pounding on the up button, because there wasn’t a chance in hell he’d have the strength to take the stairs three floors up to the roof. But the other elevator was on the ground floor where it would most likely remain during the evacuation. Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

He half walked, half ran down the corridor, all the while pressing his hand on the wall to keep from falling on his face.

After backtracking to the same stairwell he’d come in from, he pushed open the door. By this time, most people from the upper floors were jammed on the lower landing, leaving the stairs above nearly devoid of people.

Again, his vision wavered, and his knees nearly buckled. He couldn’t hold himself upright, couldn’t find his balance. It was as if the entire building were shifting beneath his feet, but it wasn’t. It was his body trying to shut down. “No, dammit. No!”

He shoved his gun back into its holster and grabbed the metal railing with both hands. He let out a harsh breath, surprised that the pain in his chest had dulled to a bearable measure. A bad sign. When he stopped feeling any pain at all, he’d be a dead man.

I’m not going to make it.

You can, and you will. Andi’s depending on you.