Page 9 of Assassin's Prey
“Abby!”
She peered around the corner again. Her eyes were wild, terrified, but she didn’t back down. That was my woman.
“You can’t get down the stairs,” I yelled. There weren’t any stairs any longer, not near me. Two Molotov cocktails could do a helluva lot of damage. “Go back to your room and out the window.”
“That’s a second-story window!”
“I know. I’ll catch you, little bird. Now go!”
I’d always be there to catch her, whether she wanted me gone or not.
I waited long enough to see her dart back down the hallway before turning away from the fire. The dining room was to my back, far enough away that the flames hadn’t touched it yet. Pulling my T-shirt up to cover my mouth, I hurried to the window overlooking the front lawn. My gun was still in my hand, at the ready, as I eased around the window casing to check the front yard. Neighbors were gathering in the cul-de-sac, pointing, shouting, some with cell phones to their ears. Good. A crowd was the best safety I could give Abby at the moment, probably the one thing our attackers hadn’t counted on.
Tucking my gun away, I slid the window open and climbed out. Several men rushed in my direction.
“Are you all right?” one asked, reaching for my arm.
I kept myself rigid, kept my instinct to fight in check. These men were Abby’s neighbors—I knew because we’d thoroughly vetted each and every one of them. They weren’t our enemies here. “I’m fine.” I coughed. “Abby’s upstairs.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw something fly through the air toward the ground. Abby’s suitcase.
“Help!”
I rushed toward the opposite side of the house. “Abby! I’m here.”
Her window was open, her head and upper body leaning over the sill. Smoke poured out around her.
“That flowerbed should cushion her fall,” one of the men said as they surrounded me. The bed was mounded with mulch and big, green, leafy plants I didn’t know the name of. The man was right, but I had no intention of letting Abby hit the ground. I’d catch her first.
“Abby, straddle the sill, then push your legs out,” I yelled up. Sirens sounded in the distance, and I prayed that between the crowd and the firemen and Remi out there somewhere, it was enough to keep Abby safe from whoever had attacked. “Come on, little bird. I’ll catch you.”
I could see tear streaks in the smudges on her face. She was scared, but she did as I asked. I wanted to tear the men who’d done this apart with my bare hands.
A coughing fit seized Abby as she maneuvered into position. I watched, helpless and raging, as she dangled, her belly on the windowsill, coughing so hard I thought she’d choke.
The men around me called encouragement. I ignored them, sidling up until I stood directly beneath Abby’s window. Putting every inch of command I had into my voice, I barked up at her. “Move it, Abby!”
She wiggled backward. “You’ll catch me?”
“Always.”
She slipped down farther until she hung by her grip on the windowsill. Maybe ten feet separated her from my arms.
A window somewhere in the house shattered, reminding me that the kitchen was likely on fire. We had to get away from here.
“Drop!” I yelled.
She let go.
The fall took forever and mere seconds. Pain shot through my arms and chest as her body hit me, sending me onto my ass. I rolled immediately to set Abby on the ground and scrambled to my feet. Between me and the group of men, we hustled her toward the street as the first fire truck pulled up.
Seconds later, the back portion of her house exploded. The pressure didn’t reach us around front, but Abby hit her knees anyway. Choking sobs racked her body.
I stood to one side a few minutes later, watching a paramedic push an oxygen mask at Abby while another treated the scrapes on her hands and forearms where the brick had shaved off several layers of skin. The crowd still milled around, many of the women coming over to offer Abby help if she needed it. Offering sympathy. Caring. All I had to offer was safety, but I knew which one Abby would choose. Her eyes constantly sought me out, making sure I was nearby, making sure I was okay. My gaze was always waiting for hers.
She was alive. We were alive. When the paramedics finally let me close, I scooped her into my arms and buried my face in her smoke-scented hair.
That’s when the adrenaline hit.
