Shouts and heavy footsteps sounded behind them. White flashes exploded as gunfire erupted. Leigh ran at a reckless speed. But Jake urged her to go faster. At some point he’d forced her ahead of him. Belatedly, she realized he was keeping himself squarely between her and the gunmen.
They reached the end of the hall. Jake hit the stairwell door with both hands. The door flew open and banged against the wall. They burst into the stairwell. There was just enough light for Leigh to see the pipe rail and concrete steps. She was halfway down the first flight when she realized Jake wasn’t beside her. She stopped and looked up to see him put his fist through the firefighter emergency box mounted on the wall. Glass exploded. She saw blood on his knuckles.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Taking out a little insurance.” He yanked the coiled hose from its nest. “Go! I’ll catch up.”
She managed a few more steps before stopping. She looked back to see Jake ram the steel nozzle of the firefighter hose through the door handle and secure the other end to the stair rail, effectively locking out the men. He quickly tied off the hose. Banging sounded on the other side of the door, followed by gunshots. “That ought to buy us a couple of seconds,” he muttered dryly and took the steps to her two at a time.
“Let’s hope there’s not a welcoming committee waiting for us outside.”
He met her on the landing. “I told you to keep moving.”
“I don’t take orders from you.”
The next thing she knew her hand was in his and she was barreling down the stairs, taking two and three steps at a time, certain she was going to fall at any second.
When they reached the ground level, Jake darted to the stairwell door and shoved it open. Winter rain greeted them with a cold, wet slap.
“My car’s on the other side of the parking lot,” Leigh said.
Heavy footsteps sounded from the stairwell above. Rasmussen’s thugs had broken through.
“We’ll take mine,” Jake said. “Let’s go.”
They sprinted across the parking lot to an SUV the size of a tank. Jake punched the remote. “Climb in and hit the deck.”
Leigh ran to the passenger side door, yanked it open. Jake was already behind the wheel, turning the key, shifting into gear. “Get down.”
She glanced toward the motel in time to see two men burst from the door she and Jake had just exited. She heard shouts. Several muffled pops sounded.
“They’re shooting at us!” she said.
Jake shoved her head down. “Stay the hell down!”
Then the SUV shot forward like a racecar out of pit row. A volley of shots splintered the air. Jake yanked the wheel hard to the left. A bullet blew a hole through the windshield. Glass rained down on Leigh. She peeked up to see tiny white cracks spreading like a network of capillaries across the windshield.
“Hang on!” Jake hit the gas. “This is going to be rough.”
The SUV jumped the curb, bouncing wildly over a hedgerow and flowerbed. He twisted the steering wheel, but he wasn’t fast enough to avoid the Dumpster, which screeched across concrete. Cursing, Jake swung the vehicle around and headed toward the street.
An abrupt and uneasy silence ensued, the only sounds coming from the hum of the engine and the hiss of tires against wet pavement. Nausea churned in her stomach and for an uncomfortable moment she feared she would be sick.
“Are you all right?”
Trembling, Leigh sat up. “I feel like I have to throw up.”
Jake glanced at her, his eyes dark with concern. “I can’t pull over.”
Feeling sweat break out on her forehead, she rolled down the window a few inches and let the cold air rush over her heated skin.
“Take some deep breaths,” he said.
She did, and slowly the nausea receded. In its wake, she was hit by the wrenching knowledge that they’d come very close to being killed. That a monster was out of its cage. That he was a predator and she was his prey, and he wouldn’t stop until he killed her. Then she remembered the blood on Jake’s coat and her focus shifted.
“How bad are you hit?”
“Just a nick.”
A shudder of relief went through her. “How can Rasmussen be so organized and have so much power after six years in prison?”
“He’s had a lot of contact with the outside. Lawyers. Accountants. He’s got money stashed in overseas banks. He’s connected. He’s brutal. There aren’t many people willing to cross him.” Jake grimaced. “You crossed him.”
“So did you.”
His jaw flexed. “Yeah, well, he’s not obsessed with me.”
She looked down and saw that her hands were shaking. She hated being afraid, hated having to look over her shoulder. She’d spent the past six years rebuilding her life. A new name. A new job. A new apartment. Now, just when she’d finally found some semblance of normalcy and a life she was content with, the nightmare was starting all over again.
“Where are we going?”
“For now we’re just putting some distance between us and those sons of bitches with guns.”