Chapter 2 - THE MAN IN THE HALLWAY
“Get down!”
Marcus shoved the table sideways.
Grace screamed and dragged Amara beneath it.
I reached inside my jacket as the lights went out.
Complete darkness.
Then—
POP.
POP.
Silenced gunfire punched through the dining room windows.
One bullet buried itself in the wall where my head had been seconds earlier.
“East garden!” Marcus shouted.
My guards returned fire.
I dropped beside Grace.
“Stay behind me.”
Amara wasn’t crying.
That scared me more than screaming would have.
She had both hands over her ears, staring at me with enormous eyes.
Another shot shattered a mirror.
“Service corridor,” I told Grace. “Take her.”
“No.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“They’ll expect that.”
She pointed toward the kitchen.
“Laundry elevator.”
How did she know the layout that well?
There was no time to ask.
Marcus covered us while Grace ran with Amara.
I followed.
Behind us, men shouted.
A body hit the floor.
We reached the laundry corridor.
Grace slammed her palm against the elevator switch.
Nothing.
“Power’s cut,” she whispered.
Then footsteps came from behind us.
Slow.
Calm.
Not one of my panicked staff.
Someone who knew exactly where he was going.
I pushed Grace and Amara into the linen room.
“Lock it.”
“What about you?”
“Lock it.”
I stepped into the hallway.
The emergency lights flickered on.
A man appeared at the far end.
Black clothes.
Gloves.
Mask.
He lifted his weapon.
I fired first.
He ducked.
The bullet tore into the wall.
He fired back.
I felt heat rip across my shoulder.
I hit the ground, rolled behind a marble pillar, and fired twice.
One shot caught him in the leg.
He fell.
I crossed the hallway before he could recover and kicked the gun away.
Then I ripped off his mask.
I knew him.
Evan Cross.
One of my own security contractors.
He laughed through clenched teeth.
“You’re getting slow, Hale.”
I grabbed his jacket.
“Who sent you?”
His smile widened.
“You really don’t know?”
I slammed him against the floor.
“Name.”
“You buried the wrong enemies.”
“Name!”
He looked past me.
At the linen-room door.
Then he whispered,
“They weren’t after you.”
My stomach dropped.
A crash came from inside the linen room.
I ran.
The door was open.
Grace was on the floor.
Alone.
“Where’s Amara?”
May you like
Grace looked toward the open laundry chute.
Someone had taken her daughter.
