Designated Target Page 7

  Clasping her hand tightly in his, he gave Sky a quick glance. She was still in shock, her face white, her expression dazed.

  He was moving too fast for conversation, which was just as well. The past few minutes had been pretty intense. He was in full-out battle mode, and all his survival instincts were kicking in. In the back of his mind he was aware this situation was completely outside her realm of experience. But there was no time for questions, emotions, fear or her shock right now. It was time to move and keep moving until he had her safe. If they were caught... Well, he didn’t want to think about that.

  When he hit the door to the roof, he pulled her behind him and waited, listening and trying damned hard to hear anything beyond her breathing. Sky was hyperventilating. There wasn’t anything he could do about that now, except say under his breath, “Try to calm your breathing.”

  She started and made an effort. He heard nothing behind the roof door or anything that indicated they’d placed someone on the roof.

  It really didn’t matter. He had no choice—he was going through.

  He’d cased this whole area from top to bottom. He knew where the ladder to the fire escape was from the roof. He knew there was a renovation of the second half of the building going on, and that building butted up against this one.

  He could only hope they didn’t have the roof covered. If he was planning this job, he would have made sure there was no way for his quarry to get away. That meant a sniper.

  He pulled the door open just a crack and swore. It was snowing—no, dammit, that was freezing rain, the soft whoosh of the tiny ice balls loud in the night. The roof looked icy. A gust of frigid wind blew into the hallway and froze him to the bone.

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a black knit hat. He slid it over her head and cupped her face gently. “We’re going out. Hold on to me.”

  She nodded, terror in her eyes, but he felt the courage in her fingers as she grabbed his forearm and squeezed, nodding.

  He couldn’t hesitate. They were right behind them. He grabbed her hand and stepped out onto the roof, slamming the door behind them. Hitting it three times with the butt of his pistol, he tried to jam the lock. His eyes on the fire-escape ladder, he took off at a run, hoping like hell they didn’t go careening off the roof, or this would be over very quickly.

  * * *

  The cold went through her, knocking her backward a little as she stood on her feet. She gulped in a great lungful of frozen air, and the pain of it almost dropped her to her knees.

  The roof was slick with ice, and she felt almost sick with the sudden, awful cold, but he wouldn’t let her slow down for an instant to catch her breath.

  Lungs burning, heart pounding, she held tight to his hand. He wasn’t even breathing hard, and she could hardly breathe at all. He still had the gun in his hand. Hadn’t once let down his guard and was aware of everything. She trembled, her stomach roiling after what she’d just seen.

  Then she heard a ping above the sound of the rush of sleet. When he grunted, something wet and warm splashed onto her face.

  Someone was shooting at them! Vin was hit!

  He dragged her behind him, turning in one fluid motion, and the gun in his hand recoiled three times. There was a cry, and then he was running again as if his blood didn’t decorate her face.

  She was trying with all her might to keep her terror at bay, but he never hesitated; everything he did was calm, collected and precise.

  Sure-footed, he raced across the roof, through a maze of air conditioners, ventilation equipment and a blinding, swirling mess of sleet, keeping her firmly in tow as she lost traction several times, but he steadied her. She had to keep her feet under her, or they would be caught. She didn’t want to think what would happen to Vin.

  A banging came from behind them and then a crash as the sound of the door thumping open had him making a sudden, lightning-quick change of direction. Her boots slid again, and she slipped, landing against him with enough force to send them both tumbling.

  “Hold on!” he ground out through clenched teeth, falling into a slide and taking her with him, his arm coming around her.

  Sky went down on top of him, and the two of them careened across the roof, heading for the edge, her heart in her throat. He scrambled to try to slow their momentum as they slid out of control. A low wall kept them from going over, but he couldn’t stop their slide, and they ended up jammed behind a ventilation unit in a tangled heap of arms and legs.

  In the middle of scrambling to his feet, he suddenly froze, still on his knees, and pulled her tight against him with his gun hand, his other hand going over her mouth.

  She heard it, too, the sound of someone approaching, footsteps crunching through the ice, slip-sliding every few steps.

  He caught her gaze, his warning clear. Don’t move, not a muscle.

  She gave a short nod and saw that the shoulder of his coat was torn, and blood, wet and slick, soaked the leather.

  The second time he’d gotten shot for her.

  She shivered with the awful thought that something would happen to him. This vibrant man who had done unspeakable things to keep her safe. This man’s skill and cunning was all that stood between him and certain death. They wanted her alive, but they would surely kill him in a blink of an eye.

  Something inside her would die if that happened.

  She stayed kneeling with him, facing him as he slowly and silently lifted his arm from around her waist and, with a one-handed grip, pointed the gun toward the opening they’d slid through. If anyone rounded the ventilation unit, they were going to be looking straight down the gun’s barrel.

  She shivered with the aching cold. It had to be close to zero, the sleet changing over to snow falling in endless, white waves from the sky, as the Russians came closer.

  Another shiver racked her. Her feet felt frozen in her boots, and she didn’t even want to think about her knees. Her ears were so cold they burned. Her teeth started to chatter.

  Without a word, Vin removed his hand from her mouth and reached down to open his coat. In seconds, she was wrapped inside, his body heat soothing her skin.

  He was so, so warm. She looked up at him, but his eyes were on that crucial opening, his muscles taut and ready. Her heart slipped and plummeted straight down to her toes. Something she’d never felt in all her life ached inside her. She looked up at him and knew courage, determination. She’d never be able to look at him again and not think this man was a hero.

  A warrior.

  Steadfast, tough and true.

  She shivered, but this time the cold had nothing to do with it.

  He put his mouth close to her ear, his warm breath sending sparks into her blood, and whispered. “I want you to stay here. Whatever you hear, whatever you do, do not move. Are we clear?” His voice was hard and unwavering.

  She nodded.

  He rose in one fluid movement, and his heat was gone. He moved to the end of the ventilation shaft, gave a quick glance around it, then looked back at her. There was that fierce look again, the one he’d had on his face when he’d killed the first kidnapper with his knife. He reached into his pocket and pulled that knife out and opened it.

  He crouched and disappeared into the shadows and the blowing snow. Her heart felt crushed as she knelt in the frigid weather and didn’t move a muscle.

  Sky stayed on her knees, stayed exactly as he’d told her to. He would come back for her. He would.

  It was what she’d believed when she’d been snatched from her parents. They had come back for her.

  But she’d still lost them.

  Chapter 5

  He stepped around the ventilation shaft. The lingering feel of Sky wrapped around him, her shivering, her being in danger spurred him on. He had to get her off this roof, out of the cold and someplace safe.


  There were three of them with those snub-nosed machine guns. Three semiautos to his one handgun. One of them peeled off, and that left two hanging around the ladder. Their only escape. He let the third man do his searching and flushing, the snow helping to give him some much-needed cover, the night black. It looked as if the power had been knocked out. No streetlights, either.

  When he and Sky had first burst through the door to the roof, he’d assessed in seconds the best place for that damn sniper they’d put on the roof as an insurance policy to take out anyone with Sky. It was just a matter of taking a bullet to the shoulder. But that had given him the guy’s location, and his dead-eye aim and the SIG had done the rest.

  He’d been the best shot in his marksman class at Quantico. Best in the corps. He was very glad about that tonight as he’d held her trembling body.

  Vin still needed to up the odds more in his favor.

  He also had a feeling there was another man lurking around, using the snow as cover just as Vin was using it. Even though he couldn’t see him, he could feel it in his bones.

  His shoulder throbbed, but luckily there was no bullet lodged in there. It hadn’t quite grazed him, though. It was more of a through and through on the fleshy part of his shoulder, missing both the bone and the joint, thank God. He moved his arm and absorbed the pain. He wouldn’t let the agony impede him while Sky’s freedom was on the line.

  Vin crept forward, crawling on the frigid roof to get as close as he could to the sniper. He would lose the cover of the snow, but by then he would be close enough to do lethal damage.

  When he was only a foot away from the first guy, he rose up off the roof, grabbed him around the neck and dragged the knife across his throat.

  The second man jerked around and brought up the semi, but Vin was already squeezing off two shots right to the guy’s heart.

  The fourth man materialized out of the snow, and he had Sky. His arm was around her throat, and he was dragging her, her feet sliding along the roof. His first instinct was to charge at the man who had her, but he knew they weren’t going to hurt her. They wanted her alive. He tamped down his impulse to maim. He needed a cool head to get them out of this.

  He squared his shoulders as the third man came running, but that wasn’t a good idea, as Sky and he had found out only minutes ago.

  The kidnapper lost his footing. Going down hard, his body hurtled toward the fourth kidnapper and Sky. Sky was taken down as her legs went out from under her, and she hit the roof with a jarring thump. The move distracted the fourth guy as Vin took his own running start, and when that semi came up, he went to the deck, folding his leg under him. As he was propelled forward, sliding on his knee and shin, bullets whizzing over his head, he depressed the trigger rapid-fire. The guy dropped to the roof and lay still. Vin used one hand as a fulcrum to whip around, and even as the third guy was scrambling to get up on the slippery ice, he put three into him: two to the heart and one in the head.

  Ejecting his magazine, he reached into his coat pocket, pulled out another one and jammed it into the gun. He waited a couple of seconds to make sure these were the only guys around, but when there was no activity, he exploded into motion.

  Certainly there were more around, and the shots would bring them.

  Rushing over to Sky, his heart pounding with more adrenaline, concern that she wasn’t moving with each rapid beat, he reached down to her, but she was unresponsive. She must have hit her head. He couldn’t hang out until she woke up.

  He crouched and lifted her into his arms, then slung her over his shoulder, capturing her legs with his arm and completely ignoring the searing pain that shot into his chest from his wounded shoulder. Behind him, he heard voices.

  Taking off at a careful run, he headed for the north side of the building and the ladder rail he’d seen curving over the edge. There was no way to the street from the roof other than this access. And the building next door would provide him with plenty of places to hide.

  Now all he had to do was get down the ladder while carrying her without dropping her or losing his grip or footing.

  After all he’d been through tonight, that sounded like the easiest part so far.

  * * *

  Sky woke slowly. There was a pressure in her middle she didn’t understand, and she was swaying. When she opened her eyes, she found herself upside down and hanging from...Vin’s shoulder. She looked down and wished that she hadn’t. It was so, so dark and empty, her stomach twisted.

  To top it off, he didn’t have his hands on her—anywhere. He was balancing her as he descended the ice-slick ladder.

  She latched on to the back of his coat, and he wobbled a bit. “Whoa, there,” he said. “Slow movements, sweetheart. Nice and slow.”

  Her frozen fingers gripped his coat with every ounce of strength she had left, which wasn’t much.

  Her head pounded, and she remembered abruptly that she’d been caught and dragged out to where Vin was, but he’d already taken down two of the kidnappers. Then she’d been...knocked down. That last image she remembered was Vin, sliding on the ice and pumping the man who had been holding her with lead.

  Okay, she might just have to reassess the whole hero thing.

  More like superhero.

  “Can you put me down?”

  “Not yet. We’re still not out of the woods. They’re going to be coming down this ladder after us. They’re not going to give up. We’ve got to get the hell out of here.”

  He slipped on a rung, and her heart, which was already lodged in her throat, stopped for a long, painful second until he steadied himself.

  It was a long, cold drop. Even squinting against the snow, she couldn’t see the end. He just kept moving at a quick pace.

  She started to tremble deep down inside, her body shaking, and a strong arm immediately went around her legs—which meant he had only one hand left on the ladder. That made her stomach plunge.

  “I’m not going to let you fall,” he said, his voice brusque but composed. She didn’t feel at all composed. She felt scraped and frozen and raw. Fifteen minutes ago she’d been calm and warm, gratefully tapping away on her laptop.

  Shit! Her laptop had been left behind.

  He stepped down off the ladder onto solid footing, and relief flooded through her. She hadn’t died...yet.

  But nothing else was right. Nothing. The night had spiraled out of control—and the only thing that could keep her free of those men was staying reasonable and smart.

  He bent his knees and gently pulled her off his shoulder, grimacing and groaning softly in pain. But he didn’t let her go. He supported her with his arms around her until she steadied. Her head was really hurting right at the temple.

  “Can you walk?”

  “I think so.”

  “Can you run?”

  “Now you’re pushing it.”

  Before she could say a word, he picked her up in his arms, clenching his jaw hard against what had to be more pain from his shoulder wound. He started moving into the half-finished building, taking the stairs, still not even breathing hard. She was still trying to catch her breath. She was so, so cold.

  When he hit the street level, he paused and looked around.

  There was the sound of sirens in the distance coming from different directions. The police. That gave her a measure of relief. Vin didn’t seem to care. He set her down, slipped his arm around her waist and pulled his gun again. Keeping it to his side, he started moving with her slowly, his eyes darting everywhere.

  As he approached the parking garage, he slowed and pressed them back against the wall until he had a moment to check everything out. Cautiously, he moved forward, and as they sprinted toward the car, she was finally going to breathe a sigh of relief. There would be warmth and safety.

  Then out of nowhere Death Head slammed
into Vin and tore him away from her as she went spinning toward one of the parked cars. Her hip exploded with pain, and she gasped, trying to regain her balance.

  She understood why he hadn’t used his gun. She and Vin had been way too close together. He must have been lying in wait here for them.

  Vin brought the gun up, but the Russian delivered a stunning blow to his wounded shoulder, and Vin cried out and doubled over. Death Head knocked Vin’s gun away, and it went skittering under a car. He punched Vin in the face, and he flew back and hit the concrete pavement hard, the air exploding out of him in an audible rush. Death Head didn’t hesitate. He straddled Vin and grabbed him by the throat with both hands and started to squeeze.

  Vin fought hard, going for the guy’s eyes and trying to break his hold. Still dizzy from getting her head slammed into a hard surface, she frantically looked around for something, anything, to save him.

  She saw a chunk of rock that had broken away from one of the parking barriers. She half shambled, half ran for it. Grasping it in her hand, she turned and rushed to him. Clasping the concrete in a tight knuckled hold, she slammed the rock into his head.

  He slumped forward onto Vin, who then pushed him off, gasping for breath.

  Sirens blared, but Vin was up and grabbing her hand. He paused to reach for his gun, and then he was tugging her along to the car. Once inside, he started it and pulled out of the parking space. He drove for the exit, passing a cruiser coming in the opposite direction.

  Gasping for breath, reeling from the sudden adrenaline and shivering from the cold, she reached for the heat with numb fingers. As he went around a corner, she saw the sign for the interstate out of Baltimore.

  He drove through the wind-driven snow strafing the windshield as the car warmed and her skin tingled and burned with returning feeling. She was starting to feel every bump and bruise.

  She looked over at Vin, but he was focusing once again, looking tough and fierce as he drove, the bruises from Death Head’s hands discoloring the skin of his throat, the blood on his coat looking dark, almost black, against the brown leather.