Midnight Hero - By Diana Duncan Page 0,20

this is what I do. I’m damn good at it.”

“I am not leaving without you.”

“We want all the hostages to go home safe and sound. In order for that to happen, I need to do my job.”

“Taking on six armed bank robbers with your bare hands? No!”

“I’m not about to pull anything stupid.” The determined look in his eyes said unless I have to. If hostages were threatened, he wouldn’t hesitate to dive into the line of fire. “Trust me.”

“Con—”

“Sweetheart, we don’t have time to debate.” He backed her against the wall. His hard body pressed into hers as he lowered his head and kissed her. Hot and silky, his tongue thrust into her mouth, giving and taking. Reassuring and seeking reassurance.

She tasted love. Longing. And an edge of desperation that scared her more than anything that had happened in the past thirty minutes. She clung to him, kissing him with recklessness born of fear. She could not lose this man she loved with all her being. Not before she had a chance to show him how much he meant to her. If she left and anything happened to him, he’d never know.

He ended the kiss. The steely resolve in his eyes terrified her. The wistful hope wrenched her heart. “Go. I’ll see you soon.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I love you.”

“Then let me do what I’m trained for.” His face was resolute, his gaze tender. “You’re a liability I can’t afford. Now go.”

Scalding tears stung her eyelids and she blinked them into submission. He was right. She’d only be in his way. Clutching and whining would get him hurt. She had to be strong, for his sake. Bailey straightened her spine. Kissed him one last time, with her heart beating so painfully in her throat it nearly choked her. “I’ll see you soon. And no heroics. Promise me.”

He cupped her face and stroked his thumb over her lower lip. Her crazy mixed-up insides did a slow loop-de-loop. He smiled. “Men make promises, darlin’. Heroes keep them.”

Walking away from him was the hardest thing she’d ever done. Halfway to Syrone, she looked over her shoulder. Silent, graceful, Con loped up the stilled escalator to the second floor and glided alongside the balcony railing above her head. He offered a jaunty salute followed by a “get your butt moving” gesture before continuing.

“Syrone,” she whispered, creeping forward.

The guard turned and Bailey froze. He was big. African-American. Wearing a guard’s uniform. But he wasn’t Syrone.

“Who are—”

The behemoth scowled and strode toward her. “How did you escape?”

“Bailey!” Con’s hoarse cry echoed from above. “Run!”

His urgent command mobilized her. Instinctively obeying, she did an about-face and sprinted down the mall.

“This way,” Con shouted, pivoting and running along the balcony parallel to her frantic flight.

Beneath him, she followed his fluid stride. He veered off and disappeared. Where was he going?

Panting, she risked a glance behind her. The guard was closing fast. For a big dude, he could move. Terror sank cold claws into the base of her neck. She poured on the speed, her pursuer’s footsteps thudding behind her. Daily yoga kept her limber and toned, but not trained for a three-hundred-yard dash.

“Bailey, here!” She jerked her gaze up and saw Con leaning over the railing ahead, dangling a baseball bat. “Catch!”

Fleeing toward him, she caught the bat as it dropped. With the solid, heavy weight gripped in her hands, she ran on.

“Kneecap him, baby,” Con ordered. “I’m coming down.” He pivoted again and tore back toward the escalators.

She looked behind her. The guard was much nearer than she’d expected. Kneecap him? She glanced at the bat clutched in her sweaty palms. Imagined the crack of wood against bone. Torn tendons. Bloody splinters. Incapacitating injury. Bile stung the back of her throat. She could not do that to another human being.

She increased her speed, so did he. She tried swerving side to side like a blitzed quarterback on Super Bowl Sunday. Didn’t work. His coarse breathing rasped loudly in her ears. Too loud. She wasn’t going to be able to outrun him.

Again, she looked back. The giant was too close. Almost close enough to grab her. In the distance, Con raced toward them, another bat gripped in his hand. Fast, but not fast enough. Harsh breaths rasped her throat, her heart slammed into her ribs.

Con wouldn’t make it in time.

Saving her hide was up to her.

Her frantic gaze spun down the mall. If she ran into a store, the behemoth would have her cornered. Nowhere to hide.