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Then they leaped at the same time, rushing out of the room and down the hall.
Kash yelled out, “Where, Bailey? We need direction.”
“Downstairs. He’s in the garage.” My mouth was so dry. “He’s alone, you guys.”
I couldn’t believe it, but at my words, they shared one look before they were both sprinting even faster. Chase went down one set of exit stairs, but there was another set on the other side of the floor.
I looked back to the garage, seeing Calhoun was hurrying to that other side.
“Kash! Take the other stairs.”
He veered away, around the door, and was gone in a flash.
I was holding my breath. I was there, with them, soaring down the stairs alongside them.
But wait. I wasn’t.
I was still in this damn closet.
I needed to get down there. I had to.
I looked around. The panel of buttons. Kash said I could get out that way.
I started hitting every button there was.
SIXTY
Kash
Bailey said to use these stairs for a reason.
Because of that, I hit the door hard, slamming it open, and I was through it just as he was moving past me.
All this buildup, all the years, all the fears and worries and tears and threats, every fucking minute I spent in the gym making myself into this weapon, and it was here. Finally. I reached for him at the same time Chase came hurtling in.
“Don’t!” Chase yelled.
I turned, not seeing the flash as Calhoun had whirled around to me.
I felt a searing burn on my side, but fuck… I couldn’t think what that meant. I saw the gun at the same time he was raising it back up, but Chase was there. Chase swung in, hitting Calhoun on the side. The gun went wide, clattering over the floor, but after that, the fight was almost done.
Almost.
Calhoun had nothing left, that was obvious.
Chase growled, shoving him back against the vehicle.
Laughter.
I paused.
It was spilling from Calhoun.
I barely recognized him from the old surveillance pictures that Harden had given me, before I pulled the team to help get Chase free. He’d had a healthy weight the last time I saw him in person, but this man was old, haggard. His skin hung from his bones, sagging, and he was so skinny. Gaunt. His hair had been salt and pepper before. It was all gray now, some ends of pure white. He hadn’t shaved, I was guessing, in months. His stench said he hadn’t showered, either.
This was it.
This was the end, but fuck… I felt the pain slicing through me and I reached for my side. Blood coated my fingers, and I was feeling the burn now.
