Page 94 of Jep

“No way.” He scooped her up, and she yelped as he deposited her on a box that half-collapsed under her weight. “I can’t do my job if I’m worried about you. Especially when you’re struggling to walk.”

“So I’m supposed to sit here and worry?”

“No. You can sit and pray. If I don’t come find you in an hour, you can come out.”

“But—”

He shut her into the dark, pressing his hand on the outside of the door when she yelled.

“Jep! Jep, I don’t like this! You’d better come back to me when this is all over.” Her voice trailed off at the end. He mouthed the word “sorry,” then turned and ran to the door, checking how many rounds he had left.

“Three,” he said as he replace the magazine. He couldn’t risk going to the car for more, so three would have to be enough.

“God, I’m going to need you to go before me on this one,” he said as he hurried down the sidewalk, taking notice of every pedestrian and vehicle that approached.

The journal would be helpful, but taking one of these guys alive could also be invaluable.

He ducked into a doorway to stay out of sight as he scanned the street and the front of the building. It was the only way in. For now, it was clear.

As he moved to approach the building, he kept his gun pressed against his leg to keep it from being seen too easily by anyone who shouldn’t. He waited until a car drove past beforerunning for the building, noting, as he pushed open the front door, that it was broken. Whoever had attacked them hadn’t had a key. He deposited that piece of information to contemplate later as he slipped inside.

A horn blared somewhere on the street, and he twisted sideways, pressing against the wall. He waited a breath before checking through the window that filled the top half of the door, then made his way to the stairs.

Focusing on the molded texture of the gun grip as it pressed into his palm, he climbed. His increased heart rate throbbed through his chest, beating out a quick, steady rhythm that faded from thought when he reached the top of the stairs and did a quick check of the hall.

He stepped slowly onto the empty landing. The front door of the apartment had been shredded by bullets and was hanging from one hinge. He ducked to get a view of the kitchen beyond. If the journal was still there, it would be on the floor somewhere in the kitchen. He shifted to get a different view of the room. It appeared to be empty. Hopefully, they were all out combing the streets. He thought of Em in the closet. He had been content leaving her there. She should be safe, but nothing was ever certain in these situations. Especially where Em was concerned. She was a magnet for disaster, but she’d somehow come out on top. If God was in this… “God, let the journal be there.”

He took one step but was thrown back against the wall when a flash was followed by an explosion.

A heavy darkness hung in the air with the tangy smoke that stuck in his lungs, refusing to budge as he tried to take a breath. Bells rung in muted procession through his head, and his vision cleared to a vague blur as his throat tugged uselessly for breath.

He rolled onto his side and dragged himself toward the stairs while his diaphragm finally responded in small gulps of air to a drowning man.

He pulled himself down a step, then slid down a couple more in thumps, which must have dislodged something because his diaphragm released in a rush. He sputtered and heaved, continuing to slide down the steps until he reached the bottom, where he laid on the landing, stretching his face to clear his eyes from their prison of fog. He ignored the high and low tones of ringing, considering that he was alive when his body was telling him he should be dead.

He rolled onto his arms with a groan, noticing for the first time that his gun was still in his hand. Using the little bit of strength that was returning to him, he put the weapon back into his holster before pushing up onto his knees, then attempted to rise to his feet.

After the initial dizzy spell, his head cleared further, and he staggered to the front door, stumbling outside, where people were gathering, gaping.

“Hey,” someone said, walking up to him but not touching him. “You okay? What happened in there?”

All Jep could think was that people asked the weirdest questions.

He shook away the fuzz and pushed past the man as he surveyed the scene. More people were moving toward the explosion, their phones lifted to the smoke pouring out a window on the second floor. But one man was moving abruptly away from the scene and around the corner.

More people were talking to him, but he couldn’t afford to change his attention in any other direction. It took all he had to remain focused on the corner. His legs moved almost of their own accord to follow his line of sight. His gait gaining speed as his body recognized itself again.

He pulled his weapon when he reached the corner and the sound of sirens pierced through the pinging bells in his ears.Behind him, the crowd had forgotten about him and were focused on the fire that was now breaking windows.

He rounded the corner with his weapon raised, checking doorways and alleys as he moved forward. Then, as he passed another alley, he saw the toe of a shoe disappear behind a dumpster.

He aimed and approached. Slowly. Quietly. His training driving him forward in stealth and precision despite his condition. The man was his. Jep was ready. Coiled. But his ears still hummed, so he didn’t hear the woosh from behind, and there was no time to react before another flash sent him into a void.

Chapter 21

“Jep?”He felt a sharp jolt at his cheek. “Agent Booth?”

He fought against the darkness, but it was slow to recede. The apartment exploding came back, and he wondered if he’d dreamed the rest.

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