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I heard a crunch, and a scream as the door slammed on the shooter’s wrist.
The door bounced backward after hitting the shooter, catching me across the face as I landed awkwardly. I raised my gun but somehow the shooter was ready—he knocked it away and sent a second punch up into my nose. My vision flared white and I stepped back, avoiding another punch that hissed through the air.
“BRADY!” Heather shouted behind me.
I was dazed for only a second, but that was enough time for the shooter. He hurdled the railing and plummeted down the open section of the stairwell. I gazed over the edge and saw him grab the railing several floors below. He dangled for a moment, legs swinging over eighty feet of open air, and then pulled himself up and over the railing.
Heather was huddled against the wall, knees pulled up to her chin. I suppressed the urge to comfort her. She was my woman, and she was scared and alone. But I couldn’t stay with her. I had to focus on the mission.
“Stay here!” I commanded.
I grabbed my gun from the ground and whirled around the stairwell in pursuit. “Suspect is in the stairwell,” I said, touching my radio earpiece. I heard my own voice from the radio somewhere on the ground. “Jeans, polo shirt, black ski mask. Sixth floor. Now fifth.”
“Copy,” Cooper replied. “I’m relaying that to the—”
Suddenly, a shrill siren pierced my ears. White lights flashed in the stairwell. The fire alarm had been pulled. I couldn’t hear anything Cooper was saying in my ear—that’s how loud the alarm was.
I made it to the fifth floor before the stairwell doors started opening. Hotel guests poured into the stairs, walking down calmly. Within seconds, there were so many of them that I could hardly move. I could only go at their pace.
I let out a scream of frustration as the shooter got away.
41
Heather
I had never been in shock before.
One minute I was standing in the stairwell, desperately searching for Brady. The next moment, a masked man was pointing a gun in my face. My brain instantly shut off. It was like theoppositeof waking up from a dream. Suddenly I was in a dream-like state. It felt like I was watching the events happen to someone else on TV.
The man told me to walk forward, so I walked forward. He told me to drop the radio, so I dropped the radio. My focus narrowed to his commands, because that was easier than dealing with the reality of potentially beingsecondsaway from death.
Then a figure flew through the air, kicking the door closed on the shooter’s arm. The gun fell to the ground. It landed next to my foot. I could have grabbed it and commanded the shooter to stop moving.
Instead, I collapsed to the corner of the stairwell, folding myself into as small a target as possible. The shooter disappeared. Then Brady told me to stay there.
So I stayed there.
Even when the fire alarm went off, I didn’t move. I crouched in the corner of the stairwell, pressing against it like I could disappear into the drab-grey wall.
A nice couple—they reminded me of my grandparents—gently shook me to get my attention, then guided me to my feet and helped me downstairs.
Slowly, the shock began to wear off.
I was in the hotel lobby. Police were everywhere, interviewing hotel guests. I had just talked to one of them, I think. I told him what had happened. Now I was staring at the sushi restaurant to the left of the front desk.
Asher appeared through the hotel entrance. He scanned the room, found me, and then sprinted across the lobby. When he reached me, he wrapped me in a fierce hug.
“We heard,” he whispered into my hair. “Are you okay? How do you feel?”
“I feel fine,” I said, even though I didn’t feel anything at all. It was like my emotions were covered in a layer of numbness.
Asher held my hand and led me out of the hotel. I spotted Brady by the front desk, discussing something with two police officers and an EMT. He never looked in my direction.
I barely remembered the ride home. I do remember looking at the kitchen clock when we went inside. It was almost two.
Rogan came out of the hallway, a phone pressed to his ear. “We have her safe at home now. LAPD is there, in addition to our own security agent. We… Let me call you back.” He hung up and hugged me every bit as fiercely as Asher had. “Thank God you’re okay, Heather. What happened?”
“She doesn’t need to tell us now,” Asher said, but I waved him off.
