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The first thing she grabbed was her com-unit, which definitely meant it was something he should look at when he had the time—which sure as hell wasn’t now. He stamped out a lick of flames near the door, then rolled onto his knees and crawled to the window.
The shadowy form was still in the park, still watching. They’d have to leave the car. Even though he’d parked it out of sight, there was only one exit from the parking garage, and that was straight onto the street below them. He got his phone out and quickly dialed SIU for assistance.
“Two minutes,” the impersonal voice on the other end informed him.
Two minutes they didn’t have.
Sam crawled toward him, bag slung over her back. “What now?”
In answer, he took his gun from the holster and set it to full laser. He pointed it at the wall and pulled the trigger. Plaster and wood disintegrated as he torched a hole big enough for the two of them to fit through.
“Now we escape,” he said, holstering his weapon.
“I like your methods,” she said, a slight smile curving the edges of her generous mouth.
His own smile was grim, as he was pretty damn sure the man in charge at SIU wouldn’t. Property damage was something to be avoided at all costs. It said so in the fine print of every rule book he’d ever read. Of course, he wasn’t one for following rule books, which was probably why he was still an assistant director. But Hanrahan was more than a little used to his ways—even if he was just as often pissed off by them.
“Keep close,” he said, and crawled forward. She tucked herself behind him.
He stopped at the hole and peered through. Though he knew this room should be empty—he’d booked the four rooms on this floor as a security precaution—he still checked. Given the nature of the attack, there should be other assailants around. But the room was silent, and he had no sense that anyone was close. He climbed through, then stood up and helped Samantha do the same.
The wall that separated them from their own room shook as another incendiary device went off. Beyond that was the strident sound of an alarm. Time to go, before the State and fire boys arrived.
“We’ll take the fire escape and catch a cab back to Central Security.”
She raised a pale eyebrow, but didn’t argue. Though if the glint in her unusual blue-gray eyes was anything to go by, she’d definitely thought about it. He wrapped a hand around the doorknob and slowly opened the door. The corridor beyond was empty, silent.
Smoke was beginning to filter under the door to their room, spreading translucent fingers through the hall. Overhead, the automatic sprinklers chimed softly and dropped from the ceiling, ready for action should the smoke get any thicker. He opened the door wider and edged out.
“The stairs are four doors down to our right,” she said quietly.
He nodded, more than a little surprised that even when half-unconscious, she’d noted the exits. It was the sign of a damn good cop. “Stay behind me.”
He kept his back to the wall and moved forward cautiously. The wailing sirens were drawing closer. Surely their assailant would have fled by now. If he lingered too much longer, he’d be an easy target for the State boys. Or the SIU, who should also be close by now.
In the room opposite, a floorboard creaked. He stopped, holding the gun at the ready and staring at the door, straining every sense he had to try and decipher who—or what—approached.
“Gun!” Her warning was little more than a hiss of air, then her body cannoned into his back, knocking him down and sideways. He twisted, catching her in his arms, breaking her fall with his body.
A heartbeat later, the section of wall where he’d been standing shattered into a million pieces, showering them with chunks of plaster and wood.
“Two doors back, on the right,” she whispered, then rolled behind him.
He turned and fired. The shot burned through the door. A second later there was a heavy thump as something solid hit the floor. “Go,” he muttered.
She scrambled to her feet and ran for the stairs. He flicked the gun charge lower and fired several warning shots, doing little more than singeing the paint. Then he pushed up and ran after her.
They made it down the stairs in record time. At the bottom, he stopped and listened for any sound of pursuit. The rapid rasp of Sam’s breathing was the only thing to be heard over the wailing sirens, but that didn’t mean someone wasn’t after them.
He cracked open the exit door and peered out. Nothing seemed out of place, and the only sign of movement was the slate-gra
y car cruising to a halt a hundred meters down the road. There would be another around the next corner. It was standard SIU procedure.
He grabbed her hand and led her out. Two men climbed out of the car as they approached it.
“Assistant Director Stern,” the first man said, giving them both the once-over. “What’s happening?”
“Somebody firebombed our room. The assailant was in the park.”
