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“Open the door.” My body hurts. My shoulder is destroyed. My hips sting, and my knees shake. But I push to them and rest my good hand on the floor. Then I get my feet beneath me and thrust up, until I sway in place and my vision turns dark.
The world tilts to the side and threatens to spill me, but I fight for equilibrium and stumble toward the door, even with Slade’s gun pointed at my back. “You need the door open so you can fit through.”
“Thanks.” She heaves, and pants, and pulls the overweight man a single inch at a time.
Veins protrude on her forehead and neck. Her shoulders bulge, and her denim-clad ass pokes through the doorway for every media van and the whole country to witness.
Someday, that’ll be kinda funny. Probably. Maybe.
But not tonight. Not right now.
Weak, I shove the door out of the way and slump to rest against the closed side so I get a view of the street. Of the vans lined up, and the police cruisers creating a barrier for men to hide behind if Slade opens fire.
I catalog the things I can—positions, people, helicopters… Though I don’t know how the information could help. I’m too tired to plot an escape. I’m too exhausted to even look back and watch Archer, whose actions will likely seal my death if Slade turns and finds his human shields gone.
But Archer protects me. It’s what he does. So whatever his choices tonight, I know he won’t put me at risk.
My eyes flitter closed for a beat while Aubree struggles and Slade waits on her other side. He stays out of range, safe from the snipers positioned all up and down the street, but that also means he doesn’t get the same view I do.
He doesn’t see Timothy Malone, his back to the wall of the bank, his finger pressed to his plump lips to keep me quiet.
Dazed, I frown and blink my eyes. I ignore Aubree’s wiggling derrière, and Archer’s sneaking theft. I ignore Slade’s gun and his shaking hand. I forget about the dying Earl, and his message of six bullets—in Slade’s gun?—and for just a beat, I think perhaps I sleep standing up.
But I force my eyes open and grin when Tim’s emerald-green stare is like a vacation in the sun.
He’s the wrong Malone. Not the one I want.But it’s nice to look at him anyway.
“Nearly there.” Aubree is blind to the man who stands just three feet from her hip. Within grabbing distance. Withinstealing-the-way-Malones-dodistance.
And because the thought passes through my mind, my lips curl into a smirk that makes Tim’s eyes anger and Slade’s narrow.
I’m tiptoeing toward delirium, bleeding out just like Earl. But mine is still inside my body.
Just, ya know, the wrong part of my body.
“Hurry up, lady!” Slade grows impatient. Antsy, as I sway in place.
I should’ve stayed sitting, infusing instead of busting my arm. But did I listen?
“Nooooo… I did not.” I purse my lips and swing my eyes back across the lobby to find Slade’s hostagesgooooone, and Archer stalking forward.
Like a panther. Like a dangerous black panther in the jungle.
But with delicious green eyes that love me so much.
“Ten seconds!” Slade barks. “Get him over the threshold.”
“I’m doing it!” Aubree snaps angrily. “I’m doing the best I can.”
“Give me an update on my daughter’s surgery!” he shouts. For Bower, I suppose, since Aubree wouldn’t know. Of the two of us, only I know the truth. “How long?”
“Still waiting,” the captain calls back. “I’m on hold with the hospital now.”
Nahhh, he’s not. He’s buying time for Aubree’s cute butt to get out the door.
“They’re checking for us, Parker! I’m just waiting.”
Earl’s guard uniform scrapes across the coarse concrete, now that he’s outside, and Aubree’s purple streaks hang in her eyes while she tugs. Curiously, Tim’s hands remain empty.
