Jake took down the thug in a flying tackle. They hit the floor and rolled in a tangle of arms and legs. Hands grappled for guns.
A second gunshot blew a hole in the wall. Jake’s hand circled the thug’s wrist, but the other man’s finger was on the trigger.
Run.
The word echoed inside her head, a primal instinct born of six years of living on the edge. But Leigh didn’t run. Even though she knew Jake was more than capable of taking care of himself, there was no way she could leave him struggling with an armed killer twice his size.
Not giving herself time to debate, she bent and slid the knife from her boot. Gripping the dull side of the blade in a five-finger grip, she waited for a clean shot. She drew back and let the weapon fly in a short range, half spin throw, exactly the way they’d taught her at the knife-throwing classes she’d taken two years ago.
The knife spun as if in slow motion, the blade glinting in a perfect downward arc. An instant later the razor sharp point found its mark at the back of the man’s left calf and went in deep.
The thug’s body went rigid. An animalistic bellow tore from this throat. He turned murderous eyes on her. “You bitch!”
Jake grabbed the man’s wrist, and the gun flew from his grip and skittered away. “That’s no way to speak to a lady.”
But the thug was more focused on the knife sticking out of his calf than he was on fighting. His features were contorted in pain. “I’m bleeding! She stabbed me!”
“You had it coming.” Jake pulled a set of cuffs from his belt and secured the man’s hands behind his back.
Leigh saw blood coming through his trousers, and for the first time it struck her what she’d done. She’d never hurt another human being in her life. Even though she hadn’t had a choice, the realization made her feel a little sick. The room dipped and began to spin.
“Leigh.”
She looked up to see Jake striding toward her, his expression taut. “Easy,” he said. “Don’t look at it.”
She barely heard him over the rapid-fire beat of her heart. She could hear her breaths coming short and fast, her arms and legs trembling violently. Shock, she thought dully and was surprised, because she’d always thought she was tougher than that.
“I’m okay,” she heard herself say.
“You’re going to be real sorry you cut me,” the thug snarled, his face twisted in rage and pain.
When Jake reached her, Leigh couldn’t find her voice. All she could think was that they’d had a very close brush with death.
She jolted when Jake’s hands closed around her arms and squeezed them. “It’s okay,” he said.
“I stabbed him.”
“You saved my life. He didn’t give you a choice.”
Intellectually Leigh knew he was right. But on a more emotional level, nothing had felt right about sinking a knife into a man’s flesh. Even if the man had had it coming.
“Where did you learn to throw a knife like that?”
“I…took a class. A couple of years ago.”
“Must have been one hell of a class.” He was running his hands up and down her arms. Talking to her. Trying to bring her back from the brink of shock.
Both of them jumped when the elevator chimed. Jake spun. As if in slow motion she saw him slide the gun from its sheath. With his other hand, he took hers.
“Run!” he shouted.
The next thing she knew she was being dragged down the hall toward the stairwell. But it was the sight of the two men stepping off the elevator that snapped her back to reality. At first glance she thought they were deputy marshals from the Witness Security Program. Then she noticed their guns and knew the situation was about to take a hard turn for the worse.
The first shot snapped through the air with the violence of a lightning strike. Sheetrock exploded off the wall two feet to her right. A hot whiz ignited the air just inches from her ear.
Thunk! Thunk! Thunk!
The stairwell at the end of the hall seemed a mile away. There was no cover. No place to run. All Leigh could think was that they were sitting ducks.
“I said run, damn it!”
She looked over at Jake and saw fear in his eyes, felt that same fear rampaging through her. She didn’t think they were going to get out of this alive.
Then she caught a glimpse of red coming through his coat. Blood, she thought, and the fear ratcheted into terror. “Jake! Oh my God! You’ve been hit!”
The only response she got was the frenzied pound of her heart.
Chapter Three
“If I go down, you keep running!” Jake shouted. “You got that?”
“Don’t go down,” she panted.
He gave her a look and cursed. Leigh figured he already knew she wasn’t the kind of person who left someone behind. Even if she didn’t necessarily like that someone.
Shifting the gun, Jake took aim and shot out two wall sconces, throwing them into darkness. Cover, Leigh thought, and a sliver of relief went through her. At least they were no longer sitting ducks.
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