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“Put it on the ground,” Quinn insisted as she sized him up, her gaze scanning him from head-to-toe. What did she see? A trained SEAL ready to fight or a man desperate to save the woman he loved? He was both in that moment, but he had to keep his cool and use his brains, use the skills he possessed.
Think, he told himself. His brain stuttered for just a second before hitting on his bargaining chip. It might work.
“So, Quinn,” he said, deliberately going for a casual tone, “have you forgotten that I’ve got something you want? The flash drive.” He had no idea why Quinn wanted the drive so desperately, but it must have value to her, and he was going to use that against her if he could.
“You’ve got it?” she asked, a flash of excitement in her eyes.
This just might work. “It’s in my front pocket. Wanna see?”
“Carefully.” She pushed Sophie’s head back, stretching her neck more so the knife rested just where it could do the most damage. Everything hung in the balance. If he was unsuccessful with his ploy, Sophie would bleed out on the dirty floor in seconds. She’d be dying before he could even get to her.
Keeping the lowered gun in his right hand, Owen reached into his front pocket with his left and pulled out the flash drive. He held it out toward Quinn on his open palm, so she could see it was the one she wanted. “You harm Sophie and you’re never getting this,” he said. “I’ll smash it to tiny pieces. Are we clear?”
“A trade, then?” Quinn suggested, the pressure of the knife on Sophie’s throat lessening slightly. “Your woman for the flash drive.”
“Both of them,” he countered. “Or no deal.” Every instinct in him cried out for him to agree to anything to save Sophie, but he had to tough this out. Sophie wouldn’t want him to sacrifice Micky, and Owen had an advantage. Quinn’s interest was piqued. She wanted the flash drive. If he wasn’t convinced of that, he’d never have tried to bargain with her for both their lives. It was a calculated risk.
Time seemed to hesitate, awaiting Quinn’s response in the damp basement.
“Deal.” Quinn rose and stepped away from Sophie, making the constricting band around Owen’s chest loosen just a little. “Bring it to me.” Her hand was outstretched.
“Come and get it.” Owen held it up between two fingers, causing Quinn to move farther from Sophie and Micky. As Quinn approached him, he tossed the flash drive behind him and away from her prisoners. Predictably, Quinn scrambled to get the device. When she had it, instead of turning back to fight Owen as he expected, she charged up the stairs.
“Go after her,” Sophie yelled to him. “Don’t let her get away. We’re okay.”
He admired her tenacity, but he couldn’t leave them there tied up, at Quinn’s mercy if she came back. He’d catch up with Quinn, but he had to free them first. He ran to the wall, holstering his gun and pulling out his pocketknife.
“Are you hurt?” he asked as he knelt next to her. Quickly, he cut through the zip ties holding Sophie’s wrists together.
“I’m fine. Really,” she said, making direct eye contact with him for a second. He saw she was telling the truth. He wanted to say so much more, wanted to gather her in his arms, and pour out what she meant to him. But there wasn’t time. Later, he’d tell her what was in his heart.
He moved onto Micky’s restraints, freeing Helen’s father. “Get her but be careful. She’s a nasty one,” Micky said, rubbing his wrists where the zip ties had cut into the flesh.
“Will do,” Owen said. “Find somewhere safe. I’ll come to you.” He directed those words to Sophie, hoping that she’d understand his meaning. He’d always return to her, always keep her safe. He’d go to her wherever and whenever.
“Go,” Sophie said but her voice had softened.
Owen took off after Quinn, charging up the stairs to the main level before pausing to scan the area. He couldn’t see any sign of Quinn in the dim light, but he heard footsteps running overhead. She was going up in the building instead of escaping to the outside.
He ran up the metal steps onto the second floor. The staircase he was on ended there, so Quinn must be on this level. But unlike the downstairs, this room still had machinery leftover from when it was a factory. She could be hiding anywhere. He crept forward, keeping on the balls of his feet, so he could pivot at any second.
He’d rounded the first machine, gun drawn, when bullets started flying. They pinged off metal on all sides of him. He hunkered down. When he was sure which direction Quinn had shot from, he returned fire. Owen wasn’t expecting to hit her, but he wanted to spook her out of hiding.
He heard a soft scrap of shoes on the tile floor moving away from him. More shots, but she was shooting randomly, trying to give herself cover as she moved. The question was where was she headed? He dashed to the next machine. Then, the one after that, making his way across the room and gaining on her. She, obviously, knew the building and had a plan in mind.
He stepped around a piece of equipment and saw her going up a ladder mounted on a wall that probably led to the roof.
“Stop,” he yelled and ducked when she swung half off the ladder and squeezed off two rapid shots. There was no denying she was smart and capable—but she wasn’t a very good shot. She regained her footing on the ladder and pushed through a door at the top, disappearing.
He charged forward to climb the ladder, knowing that he’d be a sitting duck in those seconds it took him to go up, but he took the chance that she was focused on escape instead. Not seeing her looking down through the hatch, he grabbed hold of the lower rungs and climbed as fast as he could.
At the top, he poked his head out and spotted her running across the roof toward a corner. He went after her. She must have heard his footsteps and turned to fire one more time—but no shot sounded. She was out of ammo. He sprinted forward with his gun trained on her.
“Give it up, Quinn,” he called when she approached the edge of the roof. He could see what she was thinking. The building next door was close, but not that close. At a full run, he might have made the leap to the next roof. It was a chance he’d only take if there wasn’t another choice. She was on the edge, psyching herself up to jump. “There’s a better option.”
She spun around, lifting her chin in defiance. “I can make it. I’ve done it before.” That explained her choice of going up in the building when she could have gone out. She’d expected to lose him and then leap to freedom.
His gun was pointed at her. “Youmightmake it to that roof. I wouldn’t bet my life on it.”
