grew louder. Raspy breaths caught in my throat. If we were too noisy, we’d be discovered. But if we weren’t fast enough, we’d be caught anyway.
I increased my pace, Lucas following, his fingers entwined with mine. Halfway to the exit, then a little past halfway. Hope swelled within me. We were going make it, just barely.
Without warning, Lucas missed a step, his hand yanking my arm downward. I twisted and reached back to steady him, but it was too late. His free arm swung wildly and caught the edge of the shelves.
The thud that rang out sounded deafening. The footsteps on the far end froze. “Hello? Who’s there?”
Then the room echoed with the slap of shoes hitting the concrete floor at a run.
Without saying a word, Lucas and I broke into a sprint and raced for the end of the aisle. The flashlight beam hit us way too soon—we still had another fifteen feet to go.
Any second now, the guard would reach for his radio and call for backup. At that point, we’d be seriously screwed. I pushed Lucas ahead of me, urging him to continue running.
When he was two steps ahead, I whirled. I launched myself in the guard’s direction. The gun pressed a cold, metallic reminder against my back, and I issued a silent plea to the universe.
Please don’t make me use it.
Sure enough, the guard had reached for the radio strapped to his belt. His eyes widened when he spotted me hurtling at him. He fumbled and dropped the device, his hand diving for the pistol holstered around his waist instead.
“Don’t move,” he said, fingers grabbing the handle and ripping the barrel free.
Target: Located.
Indecision froze me in place. I should draw my weapon. Now, when I could still shoot him in the shoulder, incapacitate him without killing. But shame crashed through me like a tidal wave. An image of Hunter’s faded blue eyes flashed in my memory, begging me to hold back. Hunter, who was alive and maybe even on his way somewhere to start the new life he deserved. Without Peyton.
So I ignored the cold pressure in my waistband. Instead my hand whipped out, catching the guard’s gun just as he put his finger on the safety. No time for anything else, I utilized my momentum and ducked my head. My skull struck his throat while his gun-free hand dropped the flashlight and snagged my shirt. We flew backward together.
His back hit the concrete floor and I slammed into his chest. The oomph of air forced from his lungs gave me the advantage. I grabbed his gun hand and smashed his wrist hard against the floor. His grip slackened; the gun fell. I slid the gun behind me and out of his range. With a quick punch, his radio was rendered useless.
The guard remained motionless for a moment, clearly dazed. Then he started to struggle. With one hand, I pinned him by the throat.
“Stop fighting me,” I snarled, altering my voice until it was deeper than Lucas’s.
At the sound, he went completely still, but his heart rate accelerated.
110 bpm, 120 bpm.
Probably terrified I was going to shoot him with his own gun. With my free hand, I dug into my pocket and foraged until my fingers closed around a few thin plastic strips.
Maybe some girls were taught to always carry an emergency lipstick or hair band, but me? Mom taught me never to leave home without zip ties.
The security guard glanced at the ties. His eyes widened, and his right arm swung. His clenched fist struck my jaw. My head whipped left from the force, and I lost my grip on his throat. As I scrambled to regain my balance, Lucas’s shoes appeared to my right. He stooped and retrieved the discarded gun, letting the barrel point in the vicinity of the floor near the guard’s shoulder.
“Stay down,” he said. “Or I’ll make you wish you had.”
Vocal analysis: Faster speech rate, slight increase in pitch. Probable indicator of fear.
As if to corroborate my sensors, Lucas swiped his damp palm against his thigh. But his gun hand remained steady, giving no hint of the chaos that was surely erupting inside him. Now, if only the guard would cooperate.
After a few seconds that felt like a millennium, the guard slowly raised his hand. “Okay. Take it easy.”
I made short work of incapacitating him with the zip ties, binding both his hands and ankles as Lucas kept the gun steady. Once I finished, I didn’t waste time. I motioned