He’d known her less than twenty-four hours, and already she was perilously close to being the most important person in his life. He’d never sought love, but now that it was breathing down his neck, anyone who wanted to steal his possible happily-ever-after would have to pry it out of his cold, dead hands.
Despite the fact that it chafed him raw, Hunter powered the phone down and tucked it into his jeans pocket. He had no idea how he was going to survive this flight without losing his mind. Scrubbing a harsh hand down his face, he tried not to picture Kata hurt, bleeding, alone. Dying. Goddamn it, he should be there to save her.
He swore that if she lived, he’d never leave her unprotected again—not for a single second.
THE sharp report of gunfire startled Kata, echoing through the office. She jumped and lost her grip on her phone. It skittered across the floor, under a colleague’s chair about fifteen feet away as she hit the tile floor on her hands and knees, diving under her heavy metal desk.
Where had the gunfire come from? Given the deafening sound, inside the building, maybe even inside the room. She was the only person in the office, since it was Sunday. But God, who would shoot at her? Had Cortez Villarreal or his goons caught up to her?
Heart beating until she feared it would burst, Kata mentally raced through her options. Her phone had fallen in the intruder’s direction. It was too far away to safely retrieve. Instead of retrieving it, she had to focus on escape. The main exit lay in the direction from which the shot had come. The emergency exit was to her right, on the far side of the room, a good twenty feet away. How the hell could she reach either door before this thug’s bullet struck her? She had to try.
Her phone rang again, a jarring clatter in the thick, empty room. Hunter. God knew what he was thinking now. The ringing stopped, started again.
Then the phone fell eerily silent. Quiet, methodical footsteps echoed off the tile floors in the utilitarian room. There was no one here to rescue her—and they both knew it. If she was going to live, she had to save herself.
Clutching the leg of the desk, she peeked around the corner to see if she could get a bead on the shooter’s exact location or any other possible escape routes. All she saw were rows of empty desks, piled high with outdated computers and paperwork. Then another blast ripped through the room, followed by a metallic ping an inch from her ear. She jerked back in time to see a dent shaped like a bullet in the side of the desk.
The shooter knew precisely where she was. Kata suspected the bastard was toying with her. Next time, he wouldn’t miss.
She cursed the fact that her purse, with her gun inside, was in the top drawer of her desk. If she reached up to get it, she’d make an easy target of herself. But better to die trying than to sit and wait for the fatal bullet.
Slithering out from under the desk on her belly, she curled up in front of the drawers and reached for the handle of the top one, opening it slowly. It creaked, and the sound exploded through the still office. She’d already alerted him; better to finish and be quick.
After opening the drawer, Kata reached up and groped for her purse.
Another shot rang out, closer. With a sharp gasp, Kata jerked her hand down. She’d felt the bullet whiz just over her wrist and had to cover her mouth to hold in her scream.
Then she got mad. This unseen f**ker was screwing with her head before he took her life. She’d be damned if she was going to let him do it without a fight.
Again, she reached up into the drawer. From her first foray, she knew exactly where to grope, and jerked the little Coach bag free.
It landed with a thump between her feet—just as she heard more whisper-light footsteps in aisles between the desks mere feet away.
He was coming closer.
Ripping into her bag, she pulled out the little semiautomatic, unlocked the safety, and popped off a round in the shooter’s general direction as she ran, crouching behind the next desk over, one closer to the emergency exit.
She listened for his footsteps again, wondered where he was, how close. But she heard only her own panting, terrifyingly loud in the thin silence.
Biting her lip, Kata peeked above the desk. Her assailant was nowhere in sight.
A fresh wave of fear overtook her. He hadn’t left; she could feel him plotting, creeping steadily closer. Her thoughts spun again. Sit tight for a better opportunity, or run?
A better opportunity might never come.
Sucking in a breath, she darted past a desk. No shots rang out. Holding her weapon in one hand and covering her mouth with the other, she listened. Waited. Though Kata couldn’t hear this murderer, she knew he was coming for her.
Gasping a silent breath, she ran, crouching, to the next desk. Only one to go before she reached the emergency exit. Kata pressed her back against the cold metal, handles digging into her back. Oddly, the pain reminded her that she was alive. At least for now. She gripped her gun tightly, determined to stay that way.
Hunter crossed her mind.
Despite the fact that he hadn’t called again, she had no doubt he was worried. If she didn’t escape, somehow she knew he’d mourn her. For some reason, he cared, way more than she would have expected. Kata regretted like hell that she might never see him again.
God, she was in the most terrifying situation in her life, and yet she worried about a man she’d met less than twenty-four hours ago. Where was her head?
Kata paused, straining to hear the shooter’s breath or footsteps, but she heard nothing. This ass**le, whoever he was, was good. Where the hell was he? Kata knew all too well that he hadn’t gone. He likely had her cornered. He knew it . . . and so did she.
She leaned around the far edge of the desk, until she could glimpse the right half of the room, including the path to the emergency exit. No visual, no movement, no sound.