they walked right past, he breathed a silent thank you. Apparently the gods were looking out for him. Hopefully they were looking out for Nikki, too.
He’d seen two men in ski masks. Tall and lean. Black T-shirts, black cargo pants. Tattoos on their arms. One had hair long enough to stick out the back of the mask. He took a mental picture of the tats, fully intending to have a sketch artist draw them.
To do that, though, he had to get out alive.
Focus, Stark. You need to fucking focus.
He heard them enter his suite, and one must have kicked the door shut, because he heard it slam. He figured he had less than a minute as they went over to examine Ron’s body. After that, they’d burst out of the room, on the hunt for him.
They’d assume he’d try to escape, and fast, probably by racing down the stairs. And that, of course, was another reason he was going up.
He hurried to the stairwell door, then lingered once he was inside, manually closing it so that it didn’t slam. It cost him precious seconds, but better than announcing that he was there.
There was no way to lock or jam it, so he left it shut and took the stairs to the roof two at a time. Once there, he did a quick reconnaissance around the roof, finding the metal fire escape stairs on the park-side of the building. It was dark now, but when he looked down he could see two men in black lingering on the sidewalk, illuminated by the glow of the city. He jogged the perimeter, and on each side, saw two more men. Perimeter guards.
If he came down the fire escape, they might not kill him, especially if he went down a public side. But they were undoubtedly sharpshooters with silencers, and he wasn’t going to bet his life or Nikki’s on getting down eight stories without anyone noticing.
So the fire escape was out, and so was the stairwell.
He needed another way to get to the bar. Think. Dammit. Think.
He didn’t have much time. He knew that. There were already men in the bar. When the two goons in his suite realized that Ron was dead and that he was missing his weapons, they’d search for him. They’d search the stairwell. They’d search the floors. They’d look at the fire escape. And when they didn’t find him there, they’d know he had to be on the roof. Which meant he needed to get off the roof and fast.
How?
He didn’t know. What he needed was clarity, and for that, he had to be sure Nikki was okay. Had to silence the fear that was underscoring every one of his thoughts.
He pulled out his phone and texted her, then waited for the little dots to show that she was responding. But there was nothing.
He switched to the app that controlled the watch, then exhaled with relief when he saw her pulse.
Yes, he knew that someone else could be wearing it. But he couldn’t—wouldn’t—let himself believe that. She was alive. And considering the quick rate of her pulse, he knew she was scared. The reality ate at him, but it also gave him hope.
Anyone who might have taken the watch would probably be steady. Nice and chill.
They’d rehearsed this, after all. They were certain they’d get away with it. Why would their pulse be racing?
No, this had to be Nikki, and he sent a quick tap to let her know that he was alive too and that he was on his way to her. He waited for her to send a response back through her phone, but there was nothing.
They’d taken her phone.
Okay. Fine. He could deal with that. So long as there was that pulse, he knew she was alive.
His heart twisted with the realization of how scared and worried she must be. But he couldn’t think about that. He needed to focus on the basics. She was alive. He was certain now. If she were dead, he’d know it. He’d feel it in his heart. He would feel it in his soul.
No, she was alive, and she needed him. And right now, his only purpose in life was getting to her and keeping her safe. The sooner the better.
He did another walk around the perimeter of the roof, but there was still no safe bet for going down the fire escape. He couldn’t see how the men below were armed, but he was certain they were.
The real