Page 165

“I’ll circle straight back,” he says.

“You’d better,” I shout after him as he runs between the pallets.

Eamon and Murphy drag Cal through the office doorway, and I follow.

The corridor beyond is narrow, and a light blinks overhead. It’s lined with glass-fronted offices that look over the warehouse floor.

“Last door,” Murphy says through his teeth. “There’s a stairwell behind it.”

Another burst of bullets rips through the office windows.

Glass explodes everywhere. Murphy ducks, loses his grip, and Cal falls to the floor. I turn and fire through the broken window.

“Get him up,” I shout.

Eamon bends for Cal.

A shot punches through the wall and tunnels into his shoulder.

“You okay, Eamon?” I shout.

“I’ll live,” he says, already reaching for his weapon with his other hand.

Blood pours down his sleeve and drips from his fingertips, but he still plants himself against the wall and fires toward the warehouse.

Murphy drags Cal by his high vision vest. “Get to the stairwell.”

I back up, keeping my gun pointed until we reach the last office, and Murphy kicks the door open.

“In here,” Murphy grits, nodding.

He hauls Cal toward it while Eamon stays behind, covering us.

“Come on, Eamon,” I order. “This way.”

“Go.”

“Don’t be stupid.”

He glances at me over his shoulder. “They’re already here, Mae.”

Three men appear at the far end, and Eamon’s body jerks as he takes shots to the chest.

For one pained breath, all I can see is the blood blooming across his chest. My lungs seize and I bite back his name. If I freeze now, he dies for nothing.

I fire until the men disappear behind the corner, then I grab the door handle and drag the office door shut.

Murphy has Cal halfway across the room.

“Eamon?” he asks.

I lock the door.

“Move,” I say.

We reach the stairwell door just as the office door behind us shudders under the impact of a machine gun.

Murphy pushes through and disappears onto the metal steps with Cal.