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“For chrissake, she’s not in surgery,” Archer bites out cruelly. “You’re insane if you think they’re operating on her right now.”
“What?” He looks to the doors on our right, then back to Archer. “They said—”
“They lied.”
“Shesaid!” He shakes me so my teeth rattle and my brain swims. “She said it would take eight hours, and that we’re halfway.”
“She’s been in here with you, asshole! How the hell could she know what’s happening in the hospital?”
“You lied?” He sobs so I feel his breath on my neck. I feel his anguish for the baby girl he’ll die trying to save. “She needs that surgery, Detective!”
“But shooting people is not the way to get it. I offered you the money hours ago, Parker. Free and clear. But you said no! This could’ve been over by now, and you’d only be going away for a couple of years. But now the security guard is likely dead, you shot that other dude, threatened a pregnant woman and forty others. But worst of all…” Arch stalks forward so his anger makes even my palms sweat. “You held a gun to my wife’s head and threatened to kill her.”
He stops with just two feet between us, and sets the barrel of his gun on Slade’s forehead.
I smell him deep in my lungs.
Taste him on my tongue.
I feel the warmth emanating from his chest, and itch to reach out and touch him.
So close.
“You fucked up when you grabbed her,” Archer rumbles. “So now the law has nothing to do with this.”
“What are you—”
“The law is outside, Parker. Dealing with your hostages. Patting their heads and telling them everything is gonna be okay. For as long as they’re busy doing that, this is just you, me, and a dozen of my bullets rattling around inside your skull.”
I feel Parker’s body weaken. His resolve flee.
His grip loosens on my shoulder, and his breathing quickens. As lights flash through the glass ceiling above us, Slade’s nerves come out in whole-body tremors.
I know his brain races for an answer—not only to get out of here alive, but to have his daughter’s needs met. To have the surgery performed, and her life saved.
“Let me leave,” he demands shakily. “I’ll put mine down. You put yours down.”
Archer laughs. “You first, bud.” He cocks his gun, and I jump in Slade’s arms. “Let her go. Put your gun down.”
“And I get to leave?”
“I’ll give you a two second head start.” His lips peel back dangerously. “Then hunting season is open, because you still have a gun pressed to her head.”
Slade pulls the muzzle away from my temple, so my breath comes out on a gasp that leaves me weak. Instead, he points straight up.
“Now set it on the floor. Slowly.” Archer twists his face and talks into his collar. “Prepare to breach. Suspect is laying down arms.”
“You said I’d get a head start.” Slade’s hand shakes so I see the gun rattle in my peripherals. “You didn’t say cops were coming in here.”
“I wasn’t talking to the cops.” His eyes glitter with menace. “I was talking to my people. You’re gonna wish for the police, once you meet the alternative.”
“I want a head start.”
“And I want you to let my wife go.” Slowly, Archer pulls his gun back an inch, so steel no longer touches flesh. “Hand her to me gently. She’s tired and unwell. You know what it’s like to love someone who is sick.”
“Stop talking about me like I’m not here,” I complain. But my words slur and roll into something I’m not sure makes sense. Frowning, I open my mouth and try again. “Stop—stop…”
“Careful, Slade.” Archer removes one hand from his gun and reaches out for me. “Give her to me.”
