crossed and she stood in the far corner, closer to where he figured her living quarters were. He hadn’t seen her clearly for over a month, and he wanted to ask questions that she didn’t answer in her messages. Was she sleeping well? Had she felt the baby kick yet? Was the midwife decent?
He didn’t want to take his eyes off her, but he had to notify the rest of the team she was visible. The plan was to call with a simple phrase that wouldn’t sound odd to anyone who overheard. He could send a message, but the people here were nosy, including the bartender.
As he put the phone to his ear, the bartender appeared. “Hey, Joel said you asked about a job.”
Urban hadn’t answered yet. Boone nodded, wishing the bartender had waited two minutes. It rang again.
“Boss can’t meet with you tonight, but leave your information—”
“Yeah,” Urban answered.
Boone nodded at the bartender but spoke quietly into the phone. “It’s pretty busy tonight.”
“Got it. We’re moving in.”
Boone was about to hang up when the bartender’s gaze lifted to the window and his forehead crinkled. Boone shot up, wrongness vibrating along every nerve of is body. The view at the window chilled him down to his bones. The two men from the elevator were dragging Sierra away from the window. He couldn’t hear a thing, but her mouth was moving and she struggled as much as she could without hurting herself or her precious cargo.
“They’ve got her,” Boone said into the phone and shot across the bar, pushing men and women out of his way. “Fuck, they’re grabbing her.”
Chapter 18
Boone clutched the phone as he dove for the stairwell. He didn’t bother to check if the bouncers were on his heels, or how close they were. He didn’t care. He smashed the phone against the wall as he took the stairs two, sometimes three, at a time.
The door a level above him banged open, but he didn’t look up. It had to be the angels, but Boone wasn’t waiting for them.
Pushing out the door to the second floor, he ran into another large bouncer. The man bared his teeth and flashed a gun. But the man was poorly trained.
Boone batted his hand away, spun, and elbowed him in the gut, using the breath whooshing out of the man to disarm him. He rammed his elbow down on the back of the bouncer’s neck. The bouncer fell, limp. He’d come around eventually, but Boone was done with him.
Boone checked over the gun as he spun. A fully loaded Glock. Damn. He wanted to trash it. There were too many people around to risk a stray bullet, but he also couldn’t risk it being aimed at Sierra.
Someone burst through the door and he raised the gun, both hands to steady himself, his elbows tight to his body, sights centered on her—Harlowe. As instincts he’d hoped to never use again relaxed, he lowered the weapon.
Sounds of a fight pounded through the door behind her. There was a melee in the stairwell.
“Urban and Bronx will hold them off,” she said.
He spun and ran in the direction Sierra was getting dragged. A door hung open. This wasn’t where she’d described the conference room to be. It must be the penthouse. He pulled alongside the frame and peered inside, the gun a familiar and unwanted weight in his hand. All he saw was a suite as fancy as a luxury hotel.
He swallowed hard and concentrated on his training. What if the gun was taken from him and used on not only him, but on Sierra? What if the baby got hurt because of this damn gun?
Sierra’s voice came from another direction. “You said you’d wait.”
Low laughter rumbled from the same area. The conference room she’d said was down a short hallway.
He was about to tell Harlowe the penthouse looked empty, but a female dressed in a black suit rushed the angel. Another bouncer. The woman pulled a sidearm out from inside her jacket and aimed it at the warrior.
Boone ducked back into the penthouse. Harlowe dropped to a crouch as shots rang out, echoing off all the walls. The angel swung her leg around and tripped the human. The gun clattered out of her hand. Boone dove for it while Harlowe dealt with the bouncer.
It was a twin of the gun he had. Had Andy gotten a package deal? He ejected the magazine, tossed the gun aside, and shoved the extra ammo in his pocket. By