Page 13 of Boxed In

“Why not call the police?” Olivia gasped out.

“The men who tried to steal the box won’t let themselves be captured. People will die.”

“Who are they?”

“I told you. The Poisoned Ones. They came to steal the box—to acquire its power. They will risk everything to win the prize. Stop asking questions,” he said as they reached the stairs. He yanked open the door and ushered Olivia inside.

He could feel Zabastian inside him. It was a strange sensation—a combination of power and helplessness. The warrior was still getting his bearings, and he had let Luke take charge, now that the fight was over. But what he was telling Olivia about the Poisoned Ones came straight from the warrior.

“Stay in the background,” he muttered under his breath because he knew the building, and he was the one who could get them out of here.

“What?” Olivia asked.

He felt heat stain his cheeks as he considered what she must be thinking. “I’m not talking to you.”

“Then who?”

“Zabastian. You remember him?” he asked as they ran down a flight of stairs.

“Luke, have you . . . gotten . . . psychiatric treatment?” she puffed out as they ran.

“I don’t need a shrink.”

She shot him a sidewise look that told him she was planning to get away from him as soon as she could

Well, he couldn’t allow that. Because if the attackers didn’t get the chest, they’d come looking for her.

“What? You think those guys are my drug dealers? Or maybe my bookies? Come to take me out for not paying my bills?

“I don’t know who they are.”

“They’re after the box. Like they told you.”

She made a strangled sound and stopped asking questions.

They reached the garage level of the building, and he pulled open the door. Without waiting to find out what was on the other side, he charged through.

His mistake.

“Stop!” a voice called, and he knew in that moment that the other two men had left a cohort in the garage, just in case.

The grating voice was followed by a barrage of bullets.

“Monkey balls.” Zabastian’s curse rang out in the grungy air. But Luke had already pulled Olivia behind a rectangular pillar. Bullets struck it, chipping pieces of cement.

And the angle was shifting. They’d been striking the front of the column. Now they were moving to the side.

“Down,” he whispered. “Move behind the cars. Mine’s the silver Honda.”

She looked around. “Where?”

“Halfway down the row along this wall.”

He reached into his pocket and handed her the key. “Get in. Drive toward the door.”

“It’s locked!”

“You have an opener in your car?”

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