Page 37 of Critical Strike

A swift block and ignoring the screaming pain from his shoulder, Luke nailed his opponent with an uppercut. The man staggered back. Luke followed, hitting him with a right hook.

The punches had the intended effect—Ballard’s man hit the ground, knocked out cold.

But the fight had taken a toll on Luke, too. Hot, sticky blood dripped down his hand. It had been a bad idea to strike with that arm. He drew a deep breath, trying to stop his head from spinning. A tug on his hand brought him back to his senses.

Claire.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” No. He needed to sit down. Needed to get this bleeding under control. Needed to take a moment and regroup.

And maybe he would’ve if it was just him on his own. But he couldn’t. He had to get Claire to safety.

“Is that policeman...?”

“Dead? I don’t know. But we can’t wait and help him, not if we want to get away.”

He took out his burner phone. It wouldn’t be much use any longer anyway, now that he’d used it to call Brax. He dialed 9-1-1 again. As soon as the responder picked up, he spoke.

“Officer down behind the Wars Hill library. He’s been shot.”

He ended the call immediately before the dispatcher could ask questions and grabbed Claire’s hand. It would be only moments before the 9-1-1 dispatch notified the police already on the scene here. Calling might have been a mistake, but if there was anything that could be done to save that cop, Luke had to take that chance. Hopefully, it would be enough.

But he and Claire had to get outnow.

They moved slower along the bushes toward the street on the east side of the building. Luke didn’t want to take a chance on stumbling into another one of Ballard’s men. The odds of him winning a second fight in his shape were slim.

And Claire would be unprotected.

But if they kept moving this slowly, they might get caught anyway. Luke was slowing them down. Running was not an option. The way the night was spinning, fastwalkingwas barely an option.

He squeezed her hand as they passed by the alleyway. They just needed to make it a few more blocks.

But he wasn’t sure he was going to be able to.

“You need to run. Leave me behind. Get farther into the main section of town. You know your way around, you can hide.”

“No. I’m not leaving you.”

“You have to. I don’t think I’m going to make it much farther.”

They only needed to go another mile or so, but that seemed impossible. Ten more steps seemed impossible.

She slipped her arm around his waist, tucking herself under his good shoulder. “Lean on me. Just take it one step at a time.”

“Go without me.”

“You’re wasting time and energy arguing, Patterson. I’m not leaving you, so we either both stay here or we both go.”

He almost smiled at her bossy tone and took a step forward. And another.

Praying none of Ballard’s men would find them, he kept moving forward. Left down a dark block. Right down a second alleyway. His legs weakened. His arm burned like hell. He couldn’t stop, though. Wouldn’t let anything happen to Claire.Kitten.

Were they far enough? He had no idea where they were—walking along some empty street. Had no idea how much time had passed since they left the library. Five minutes? An hour? Ten years?

He had to stop. He leaned heavily with his good shoulder against a parked semitruck that shielded them from anyone on the street.

“You keep going.” The words sounded raspy, breathless, not like his voice at all.

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