Page 45 of Hell and High Water

“Drama, no. Intrigue? Yeah.”

The computer in the corner is an antique, taking up half the wall it sits against. “Should we even bother?” Evan looks it over, trying to find the on switch.

“Maybe we’ll send Tell out here if there’s time. That thing is barely a calculator.” I move on, locating a safe below the beds. “Here we go.”

One file sits on top of the heavy metal device, marked with a strange symbol.

“Check this out…” I show Evan, and his eyes narrow.

“I’ve seen that mark before,” he mutters, pulling out his phone and swiping through his photos. “There, I took this the night of the Ball. Rachelle’s mask.”

He’s spot on.

The circular symbol is tiny, engraved in the top of her gold mask.

“It almost looks like…”

“A backward seven in a circle?”

“Tell is never going to shut up about how ridiculous this is.” Evan helps me drag the safe out. Between the two of us, we can lift it pretty easily up the stairs. Another glance around confirms that there’s nothing else worth taking.

“Shall we?” I nod toward the exit.

“A lot of good having a panic room did for them in the end,” Evan comments, grunting a bit as he backs up the steps, pushing the door open at the top.

“Being so far out, they probably thought no one would be able to sneak up without them knowing. Too bad the shot came from a mile and a half away.”

“How do you know?”

“Angle of the shot. Only visible point is a ridge in that direction.”

“That’s what’s been bugging you, isn’t it? You recognize the method.”

Evan is too damn smart for his own good. I ignore his comment for a moment, clearing the stairs and turning toward the front door. We’re setting it down to readjust when I see it, a flicker of a shadow.

Just before Evan takes a kick to the head.

“Ah!” he shouts, rolling with the impact, diminishing the blow and rolling.

My gun is in my hand in a flash, taking a bead on the black clad figure rushing me. They’re too fast, slapping my barrel to the side, knee flying for my face.

“Nope,” I growl, dropping my gun to spin with the attack, hooking my arm under their leg. Using their momentum against them, I launch the smaller shape into the wall with all my strength, cracking the plaster and forcing a sharp grunt of pain.

The slender attacker is back up in an instant, sweeping a leg straight at my head, forcing me to duck right into a fist to my cheek.

A pop of pain and flash of spots behind my eyes, and I’m lunging back out of their reach to recover.

Evan rushes in behind them as I regain my vision, aiming for the back of the hooded fighter’s head. Too slow, his hit meets open air as they twist impossibly far to the right, whipping a hand up to disarm Evan’s gun and chopping him in the throat with it.

Evan gags and goes down, still aware enough to dodge the heel of the assailant’s boot smashing down where his head just was.

My gun is back in my hand, firing off a couple of shots, but they're too close and both shots come way too close to where Evan vanished into the living room.

Three quick blows, and I deflect, taking two of them hard in the ribs. This fucker packs a punch.

But I have a hundred pounds on them.

All it’s going to take is one hit, and they know it.

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