Читать книгу The Marshal's Runaway Witness - Diane Burke - Страница 13

FOUR

Adrenaline surged through Dylan McKnight’s body. He withdrew his weapon and pointed it toward the ceiling. His legs pounded the linoleum faster than he’d thought possible as he bolted toward Angelina’s room.

“Move!” He skirted a patient on a walker. “Get out of my way!” He dodged a nurse pushing a wheelchair.

In the distance, he saw a familiar figure racing toward him.

Bear!

A woman, probably the other marshal, matched Bear’s pace stride for stride as they sprinted forward. Angelina’s petite figure was huddled between them as they half dragged, half carried her along.

“Get back in your rooms,” Dylan shouted to hospital patients as he tried to close the distance between himself and his partner. “Get out of the corridor, now!”

Chaos ensued. People screamed and hospital personnel scurried to help the patients do as Dylan demanded.

Two men appeared at the end of the far corridor and were quickly gaining ground.

A shot rang out.

Bear, never losing stride, glanced over his shoulder, raised his right hand and fired his weapon.

A second shot rang out and a chunk of drywall chipped off next to Dylan’s ear. He ducked and returned fire, offering what little cover he could for his partner.

One of the men in pursuit fell to the ground.

The second man stopped, grabbed his injured accomplice under the arm, and dragged him to his feet. In a hail of bullets, they ducked down another hall.

Dylan returned fire again, then again.

When they disappeared from sight, he stopped firing and tried to make a split-second decision on what his next move should be. He wanted to pursue them but there were three people at hand that needed him more. If there were two bad guys, it stood to reason there would soon be more. His priority right now was getting his team to safety.

“I’ll take over. Thanks.” Dylan nudged Selma away. He slipped his hand under Angelina’s left arm but not before passing Selma his car keys and telling her where their black sedan was parked. “Bring the car back to the loading dock. We’ll be right behind you. Go!”

No longer burdened with Angelina’s weight, Selma didn’t need any prodding and took off running.

“Hit the elevator button,” Bear yelled.

Dylan pushed the button but then moved the three of them to the stairs.

“Whatcha doing, man?” Bear tried to pull Angelina back toward the elevator.

“We’re taking the stairs. We can’t be sure they’re alone. Others might be riding up here right now. Don’t want to be greeted with gunfire when the elevator door opens, do we?”

Bear pushed open the door to the stairwell and peered over the railing. “Are you crazy? It’s ten floors.”

“Getting soft in your old age, Simmons?”

“I’ll give you ‘getting soft.’” Bear almost growled the words.

Dylan chuckled in spite of the tension of the moment. Everybody knew Bear counted the days, hours and even the minutes until his retirement party in six months. He’d become a little less willing to risk any injury. But Dylan intended to make sure his partner made it to that party in one large cake-eating piece.

Dylan forced his mind into overdrive, doing a double and triple check of every decision he made. He vowed not to lose the life of a second partner on his watch like he’d done years ago.

“Dylan...”

Pure terror resonated in Angelina’s voice yet her outward demeanor remained calm and collected.

“It’s going to be all right, Angelina.” He gave her noninjured arm a reassuring squeeze. “We’ve got you. We’ll be out of here and safe in a few minutes. Don’t worry.”

He threw a glance over his right shoulder to make sure they weren’t being followed. Then, offering a silent prayer that he was making the right decision, he nodded to his partner and they began their descent down the stairs.

* * *

Not a word passed between them as they moved in an even rhythm through the stairwell.

Angelina’s head pounded with pain. Her blurred vision made the stairwell and the men beside her appear as if they were underwater. But she didn’t dare complain. She couldn’t be responsible for slowing them down when she knew every second was crucial to keeping the three of them alive.

Dylan grinned when they reached the ground floor. “We made it!”

“You sound surprised. That sigh of relief doesn’t instill a great deal of confidence here, McKnight.”

“What are you talking about? I told you it would be okay. I’d keep you safe.” Dylan gingerly patted her shoulder. “And I will.”

When Bear released Angelina’s other arm, she slid to the bottom step, grateful for the moment of rest.

Bear leaned over, his huge hands bracing his upper body against his knees, and sucked air deeply into his lungs. “Yeah, well don’t start celebrating yet,” he baited Dylan. “All we’ve managed to do is jog down a million steps.”

Angelina smiled up at the older man. “You did a good job. Thank you for keeping me safe.”

A surprised expression crossed his face. Then he nodded almost shyly in acknowledgment of her compliment.

“Stop your griping, Bear.” Dylan slapped his partner on the back. “You really are getting soft, you know. Good thing you’ll be hanging up your shield soon. Those bones of yours are getting pretty old.”

“Don’t get too sure of yourself. How long do you think it’s going to take the bad guys to figure out we took the stairs? A nanosecond from now?”

Dylan glanced up the stairwell and then out into the corridor. “My guess is they’re riding the elevator and searching floor by floor.”

Bear nodded. “Then let’s get out of here before they figure it out. I’m a bigger target than you. Today’s not the day I feel like getting shot.”

“Copy that, big guy.”

Dylan helped Angelina rise from the step. “You okay?”

She nodded. But she knew Dylan wasn’t blind. Her eyes watered from the pounding in her temples and she didn’t know how much longer she could tolerate the pain.

Still, she couldn’t slow them down. She refused to be the reason any more people died. Not today. Not ever.

“Beat you to the back door.” She forced herself to grin at the two men.

“You’re doing great.” Dylan stared into her eyes exuding more confidence than she was sure he felt.

She knew she wasn’t fooling him but he wasn’t fooling her, either. They were in danger. Huge danger. And every second counted.

“One more corridor. Just one more,” he assured her. “Selma’s right on the other side of that last door and then we’ll be safe.”

Angelina took a deep breath. Now she understood what it meant when people said the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak. She knew her fighting spirit and determination wouldn’t let her down but she worried that her body was another story.

“We’ll do this together, Miss Baroni,” Bear said, clasping her under the arm. “Let’s go.”

Without another word, both men picked her up and moved in a rapid pace toward that back door. She knew neither man would dare voice their own fears that Selma and the getaway car might not be there in time but tension was written all over their faces.

Excruciating pain pounded in her temples at each jolt of her body. Her vision blurred even more and nausea cramped her stomach.

Dear Lord.

The beginning of a prayer came naturally. It saddened her that she couldn’t feel comfortable anymore talking to the Lord, the only One whom she had once believed could truly keep her safe, whom she had once sought for comfort and inner peace.

Angelina gritted her teeth and endured the ache in each arm as the men half carried, half dragged her down the corridor.

The men’s pace increased almost with a desperation she knew they didn’t want to show.

This wasn’t going to work. These men would forfeit their lives trying to get her to the safe house and she would have more blood, more good lives lost, on her head. The murder she witnessed of a neighbor had started this whole thing. Then, the loss of Maria. Who would be next?

A moan of grief escaped her lips.

“Almost there, Angelina. Hang on.”

Dylan’s voice penetrated her consciousness. He’d misinterpreted her moan for pain. Well, it was pain. But it was so much more—fear, grief, uncertainty.

Please, please don’t let anyone else die.

She couldn’t help offering the prayer even though she truly believed God didn’t listen to her anymore. Maybe this time He would. For these men if not for her.

She thought back to the night three years ago when she’d deceived Dylan. Funny thing, the mind. Here she was being shot at by mobsters and being dragged down corridors and all her mind wanted to think about was Dylan.

They’d gotten close...much closer than either of them had expected. Dylan had done his best to be professional and keep his personal feelings out of it. He’d even made jokes that it was nothing more than physical attraction blossoming between them and they needed to ignore it.

But she knew it had been more.

She’d touched his heart. She saw it in his eyes when he looked at her. She felt it in the warmth of his touch, a touch lasting a moment longer than it should. She heard it in the gentle huskiness of his voice when he spoke to her.

And she’d exploited those feelings.

A twinge of shame and regret hit her conscience. How could she have hurt him like that? Particularly when she hadn’t been sure he had deceived her. His current actions made her more certain than ever that she’d misjudged him.

Now it was worse. Those gentle feelings she’d seen in his eyes years ago were replaced with anger, mistrust and pain. Yet here he was putting his life on the line to protect her, again. He was probably going to get himself killed. And it was all her fault.

“There they are!” Male voices at the distant end of the corridor rang out and were quickly following by the sound of feet pounding the floor.

“If you’ve ever said a prayer, man, this would be a good time to do it,” Bear yelled to Dylan. Then he slammed the palm of his hand against the back door. “Be there. Be there. Be there.”

The three of them paused on the loading dock, acclimating themselves to the darkness and to their surroundings.

“Hurry! Over here!” Selma’s crisp, tense voice carried in the cool autumn air.

Angelina’s body took another heavy jolt as the men sprang into action, lifted her feet off the ground, and ran with her bouncing between them toward the dark sedan barely visible in the poorly lit drive. The severe jarring motion made every muscle in her body scream in protest.

Her stomach roiled and it took all her strength to remain conscious.

Bear pulled open the back passenger door and dived in. He reached out his hand to pull her in after him. Dylan brought up the rear.

Angelina squinted as the bright light of the car interior hit her eyes, sending shafts of fresh pain through her eyes.

The sound of a bullet hitting metal made Dylan push her into the backseat. Her face mashed against Bear’s chest. She could hear his voice reverberate against her ear as he yelled to Selma.

“Go! Go! Get out of here! Now!”

Sandwiched between Dylan and Bear, Angelina heard the car tires squeal before Dylan had even closed the back door.

Another bullet on metal. Then another.

“Stay down!” Dylan ordered, shoving her head deeper into Bear’s chest as his large, ungainly partner sprawled half on and half off the backseat. Why was God letting this happen? Why wasn’t He bringing her father to justice before more innocent people got hurt?

The car swayed to the right. Then Selma took a sharp turn to the left.

Angelina grabbed hold of Bear’s shirt and tried to steady herself and not crash backward into Dylan.

Selma made another right-hand turn, this time down a backstreet. Angelina was certain they did it on two tires, not four, before the car banked sharply back to the left. They cut through an industrial park parking lot.

“I think you lost them. I don’t think they were able to grab a car in time to follow us.” Dylan, gun drawn, his back pressed against the back of the driver’s seat and his knee digging painfully into Angelina’s side as he balanced himself on the seat, pointed his weapon at the rear window.

“Where are we going?” Selma called from the front.

“Just get us out of here,” Dylan yelled. “We’ll figure it out when we’re not dodging bullets.”

“Roger that.”

All three of them were thrown together as Selma hit the accelerator and took another sharp turn.

Angelina couldn’t tolerate the pain in her head another second. Her blurred vision quickly became a sheet of black. She gave up the fight and slid into the welcome darkness.

* * *

“Angelina!” Dylan pulled her into his arms and cradled her head against his chest. “Open your eyes. Stay with us. C’mon, open those eyes.” His heart pounded and the pulse in his temple throbbed. She had to be okay. She had to be.

He gently shook her. “Angelina. C’mon. Open your eyes.”

“Maybe we ought to take her back to the hospital.” Bear’s solemn stare almost made Dylan lose it. His partner never would suggest taking her back into danger unless he thought she was going to die.

She wasn’t going to die. Not here. Not now. He wouldn’t allow the thought to enter his mind.

C’mon, Lord. I need You now. Please, Lord.

Angelina’s eyelids fluttered.

“That’s a girl.” Relief coated Dylan’s every word.

A little more fluttering and then Angelina opened her eyes and stared back at him. He’d never been more grateful for anything.

“Good girl! Now take some deep breaths. Inhale through your nose. C’mon, Angelina. Breathe in. That’s a girl. Now purse your lips and blow out slowly. Good girl. Now do it again. Nice and slow. Again.”

“My head.” She lifted her fingers to touch her temple. “The pain...”

“I know. I’m sorry. Here.” He placed two pills in her hand. “The doctor gave me these. Take them. They should help. I just need you to hang in there a little bit longer. Can you do that for us?”

Selma reached over the front seat and handed back a bottle of water.

Angelina started to nod but stopped instantly and grimaced. Her fingers moved to her mouth. “I’m going to be sick.”

“I’ve got something for that, too.” He handed her the antinausea pills. “Just a little longer, Angelina. We’re almost there.”

“Where?” Selma stage-whispered from the front seat. “You never did tell me where I’m supposed to be driving.”

“I don’t know.” Dylan raised his head and looked out the back window. They’d pulled into an alley when Angelina had lost consciousness. “Have we lost them?”

“I think so.” Bear slid his gun back into his shoulder holster. “I haven’t seen anyone for a while now.”

Dylan returned his attention to the woman sprawled on the backseat. “That’s it. Slow, deep breaths. Keep your eyes open. Just listen to my voice and blow the breath out slowly. In. Out. There you go.”

He tapped the driver’s headrest. “Just drive, Selma. Give us a few minutes to figure this out.”

She nodded and turned the key in the ignition.

Dylan gathered Angelina in his arms. He held her tightly in the confined space in an attempt to steady her as much as possible as Selma pulled out of the alley.

Bear squished himself against the door and window in an attempt to give them space in the cramped quarters.

“I don’t see anyone behind us.” Selma and Dylan’s eyes met in the rearview mirror. “We’ve lost them.” Selma slowed the car and merged into normal traffic. “What do you want me to do now?”

“Find a diner or small restaurant. Something off the beaten path while we wait for the text on the location of the safe house. Angelina needs to rest. We need to call this in and all of us need to take a minute to unwind and regroup.”

“Sounds good.” Bear pulled a cell phone out of his pocket. “I’ll call it in and find out what’s the holdup on the safe house.”

Dylan repositioned Angelina. For a moment when she’d blacked out he had thought he’d lost her. Panic had coursed through his veins. He couldn’t afford to lose this witness. If she didn’t testify, her father would walk free. That’s what it was, worry about his witness.

His hands shook. He almost had to sit on them to refrain from brushing the hair off her face.

What was the matter with him? Why were his insides in a knot and his chest feeling as if he’d just had a major heart attack when he saw her slip into unconsciousness?

She was an important witness. Nothing more. That’s all she was.

He looked down at her long lashes wet with tears as she closed her eyes and burrowed in his arms.

Yeah, right. Just a witness.

Who did he think he was kidding?