Dangerous Attraction Romantic Suspense Boxed Set (29 page)

Without taking his eyes off the next portion of the stairwell, he called up to Khalia. “We’re clear for now. Come quick but stay a few yards behind me, and keep down.” Because they had a lot of stairs left to take before they reached the ground floor and he had a gut feeling they weren’t in the clear yet.

Chapter Twenty

At the sound of Hunter’s voice Khalia closed her eyes for a second and sent up a silent prayer of thanks. She had no idea how he’d survived all that gunfire, or how she’d remained unscathed with all those bullets flying around. Pushing to her feet, she threw out a hand to steady herself when her legs wobbled. The inside of her chest burned from the smoke and her coughing had done little to clear her lungs. Her left hand gripped the railing, her right holding fast to the pistol. It felt strange against her palm but she wouldn’t hesitate to pull the trigger if she had to, lack of training or not.

A few unsteady steps down and she craned her head around to see Hunter and the two men lying crumpled on the floor. Bile rose in her throat. Her gaze swung from the bodies to Hunter, taking in the rifles and—

Hunter was bleeding.

“You were shot!” She rushed down the remaining steps, ignoring his muttered dismissal, her attention on the blood spilling down his upper arm and the back of his leg in scarlet rivulets.

“Don’t worry about it now, I’m fine,” he said gruffly, blocking her hand as she reached out to staunch the bleeding in his upper arm. “We’ve gotta move fast. Same drill, stay back and stay low. Come on.” He turned away from her and limped down the stairs, trailing blood behind him.

A door slammed open somewhere below them. Hunter dropped to one knee on the stairs and Khalia did the same. Heart in her throat, she waited there for a few tense seconds before she heard it. People coughing, a woman crying. Then shouting. More screams. The primal fear in them caused a visceral reaction deep inside her—an automatic and uncontrollable curling in her guts. Chills broke out across her cold skin, the hair on her arms and the back of her neck standing on end.

The clatter of panicked feet further down the stairwell had barely registered when the door banged open again and another gun opened fire. Hunter remained frozen in place ahead of her, his full attention riveted to the lower stairwell. Then he shifted slightly, the muscles across his back and shoulders tensing, and Khalia knew the assault was coming. She gripped the pistol in both hands and started to bring it upward when Hunter suddenly fired the rifle. Precise, controlled bursts of a few rounds each. A cold trickle of sweat rolled down her spine. She had to remind herself to breathe.

Hunter rose slightly from his crouch and went down a few steps to the landing, paused. Without looking back or giving any sort of signal he turned the corner and disappeared from view. Khalia forced herself to follow at a distance, the weight of the gun still a foreign sensation in her hands. Her left foot had just landed on the bottom step when Hunter yelled out.

“Khalia, get down!”

She dove onto the landing before the last syllable was out. Raising her eyes, she stared in horror at the carnage revealed before her. Blood everywhere. Splattered on the walls and the stairs and the floor. Bodies lay crumpled in the narrow stairwell. An elderly couple was curled around each other, the man on top of the woman as though he’d attempted to shield her in their final moments. Their eyes were still open, staring at each other in terror even in death.

The roar of gunfire jerked Khalia’s attention to Hunter. It drowned out the shouts and screams of the victims as the gunmen mowed down anyone left moving. Hunter returned fire.

Her eyes were glued to him in the midst of that carnage when he ran out of ammo. He flung the now useless rifle away and reached over his shoulder for the second, then suddenly jerked and Khalia knew he’d been hit again. A cry of denial built in her throat, but it was blocked by the tightness there. She rose to her hands and knees and began crawling toward him without realizing it, intent only on getting to him. All she knew was that he was down and the shooters were still coming.

She was only a few yards from him when he reared up with the second rifle and let loose with another stream of bullets. She stopped and risked a glance past him, caught sight of three men bursting into view down the spiral of the staircase. Hunter had held his own so far, but he couldn’t hold off that much firepower alone.

In that moment a surge of cold, hard determination flooded her system. She brought her pistol up, finger on the trigger, prepared to shoot at anything coming up those stairs, but Hunter suddenly swept an arm out and knocked her flat. The air whooshed out of her as her chest hit the hard concrete and something hot and sharp tore into her back, just below her right shoulder blade. A split second later, Hunter’s weight crashed down on top of her. She went dead still beneath him, the repeated boom of gunfire echoing in her ears. She felt Hunter shift and heard the answering bark of his rifle, then he twitched and grunted, rolling away slightly.

Khalia snapped her head up in time to see two of the three gunmen appear at the bottom of the stairs. Hunter must have taken out the third. The remaining two were so close now she could see the whites of their eyes. She didn’t think, only reacted. If she was going to die, she was going to die fighting, not cowering in the corner begging for her life. Rage and adrenaline crashed through her in a toxic, dizzying tide. Everything slowed. Hunter was still struggling to turn over when she brought both arms up to grasp the pistol grip and pulled the trigger over and over. The gun kicked in her grip. Her first two rounds slammed harmlessly into the concrete wall behind the men.

The one in the lead brought the muzzle of his rifle up, pointed it straight at her. In the space of a heartbeat, her senses crystallized. She was aware of her choppy breathing, the feel of the gun bucking in her hands as she adjusted her aim and squeezed the trigger. A bullet hit him high in the shoulder, causing him to cry out and drop the barrel of the rifle. She fired again, managed to hit him in the chest. He didn’t go down but he stumbled back, crashing into the man behind him.

In that split second lapse, Hunter appeared in her peripheral vision. The bark of his weapon filled the air. A spray of blood went up on the wall behind the lead man, a dark red hole appearing in the middle of his forehead. Khalia was already focused on the second one.

She was on her knees, arms trembling as she fired and fired again along with Hunter. All her focus remained on the last shooter as she pulled the trigger repeatedly. Another red bloom on the wall, a hole in his bearded face. Even as he toppled back, Khalia kept firing. She dimly realized she was screaming, venting her terror and rage, her finger continuously squeezing the trigger. It took her a moment to realize the gun was clicking on empty.

A hard hand seized her wrist, wrenching the weapon away. Shaking, chest heaving, she blinked up at Hunter. He had a hand on the side of her face, his urgent voice finally breaking through the haze.

“Baby, stop. It’s over. They’re dead.” His eyes were earnest, delving into hers with concern, as though he was afraid she’d cracked and lost her tenuous grip on sanity.

Dead.
She gave a jerky nod in response. Her throat was locked too tight for her to get a word out. A ragged sound came out instead. The tension in her stomach and muscles suddenly evaporated, leaving her nauseated and her bones like jelly. She was shaking apart, didn’t know how to stop it.

Hunter’s gaze softened. “Hey,” he whispered, curving that steadying hand behind her neck as he leaned his forehead to hers. “Stay with me. You gotta stay with me.”

Yes. Stay with him.
Her muscles refused to cooperate when he began to drag her upright. She let out a choked breath and shot a hand out for the railing to give her time to lock her knees. Jesus, she was ice cold, trembling so hard her teeth were chattering. The wail of the fire alarm suddenly turned piercing, made her want to clap her hands over her ears.

Hunter’s hand slid to her wrist. “Come on. Almost there.”

Khalia ran her gaze over him. He was bleeding in a few more places now but somehow still on his feet, and she prayed that meant he was going to be okay.

“How f-far?” she managed, lips and tongue so numb the words came out slurred.

“One more flight, then we’re on the ground floor.”

So close. She could make it.

Hunter started down with a pronounced limp, his fingers curled around her wrist, but she shook him loose. If there were more threats he’d need both hands and she could walk down these last stairs on her own.

The scent of gunpowder and blood mixed with the acrid tang of smoke, the reek of it all burning her nostrils. Hunter swept past the dead gunmen. Bodies of their innocent victims lay sprawled in a tangle of limbs on the stairs, so heartbreakingly close to the exit and escape. Another wave of nausea twisted her stomach. She swallowed a gag and kept her eyes on Hunter’s wide shoulders to block out the hideous sights. Putting one unsteady foot in front of the other, she curled both hands around the cold metal railing for support, her focus on that heavy steel door below them.

Stepping between the bodies, Hunter stopped at the side of the door and glanced back at her. “I’m going out first. Stay here until I tell you to come out. There’re gonna be first responders everywhere out there, and we don’t want any of them shooting at us by mistake.”

No, she really didn’t want that. “How do y-you know it’s s-safe to—”

“I’m gonna make it safe.” His voice rang with certainty, his eyes burning with resolve. Even wounded and covered with blood, he was prepared to risk his life for hers. The knowledge made her tear up.

“Stand back, flat against the side wall,” he told her. When she’d picked her way through the bodies to get in position, he turned his back to her, waited beside that door, then reached out and slammed it open with one hand. He ducked back behind the cover of the concrete wall as brilliant sunshine flooded the room. Khalia flinched and closed her eyes, bracing for more shooting.

Nothing happened. No bullets, nobody running at them. A gust of fresh air rushed through the tight space. When she opened her eyes, the rifle he’d been holding lay on the floor by the open door and Hunter was gone.

She dragged in a shuddering breath and got ready to run. The brilliant rectangle of light in the open doorway seemed like a portal into another world, leading from this hellish blood-spattered place of murder and terror into safety and freedom.

A shadow appeared between the jambs. She tensed, but then Hunter materialized in the opening. “It’s safe. Come on out.” He stretched out a hand to her, palm up.

Her gaze locked onto that strong, capable hand. Khalia shoved away from the wall and lunged for it. The moment their palms touched he curled his fingers around hers and pulled her outside. Blinking in the glare, she instinctively shielded her eyes with one hand as she followed Hunter at an unsteady jog. A wall of men appeared in front of them. Black uniforms, blue ones, military fatigues. They descended upon her and Hunter, surrounding them, everyone shouting at once.

Someone grabbed her around the waist and ripped her from Hunter’s hold. He wore a police uniform but that meant shit to her right now. She twisted and kicked out, felt a sharp twinge in her back where she’d been hit earlier. A scuffle broke out in front of her and she could hear Hunter yelling her name, swearing. She whirled and struggled, casting a frantic glance around for him, but he’d already been swallowed up by the sea of humanity engulfing them.

“I’m trying to get you to safety!” the officer shouted at her, clearly exasperated by her resistance. “Come this way, to where the medics can look at you.”

“I want to find my friend,” she insisted, pulling away from him.

“You’re bleeding, and need to do as I say.” He snagged her arm again, his grip tighter this time, and started walking despite her protests. The scuffle in the crowd was still going on as the policeman towed her away from the hotel, firing questions at her as he went. Were there any more shooters still inside, was anyone else shot, was she hurt, how much smoke had she breathed in.

“I’m f-fine,” she shouted at him, yanking against his hold. The wound in her back couldn’t be too serious, or she wouldn’t be able to walk. Finally he stopped and let her go long enough for her to turn around and look for Hunter. Her gaze snagged on the front of the hotel, the windows of the middle floors spewing smoke and flame. Black clouds of it boiled into the clear blue sky. More smoke belched from the doorway she’d just fled through. She still couldn’t believe they’d come out of there alive. So many others hadn’t been as fortunate.

The sudden, violent lurch in her gut gave her just enough warning to bend over. She heaved up bile until she had to lean her hands on her thighs to stay upright. Someone laid a hand on her back and a water bottle appeared in front of her watering eyes. She coughed and sputtered, struggled to get her breath back, but her knees finally gave out and she sank to the hot pavement. Paramedics arrived. A team of what looked like SWAT guys rushed past her toward the open exit door.

“Bodies,” she gasped.

“What?” one of the medics asked.

“Bodies in there,” she said, pointing. “All over the floor.” Oh shit, she was going to throw up again.

The officer pushed her head down. “Take some deep breaths,” he said, his accented voice adding to the unreality of the situation. She should have been at the airport right now, getting ready to board her flight home. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

She shook her head, not caring about the stinging in her back. Cuts and scrapes were nothing. “Hunter was shot. Is he—”

“Let’s get you over to one of the ambulances.” He dragged her to her feet.

She allowed him to lead her through the swarm of people, but after seeing what had happened to the ambulances after the bombings downtown, she didn’t want to get near them. Khalia dug in her heels. “I told you, I’m fine,” she snapped. “Now let me go find my friend.”

“You have cuts that need bandaging and oxygen will help with the smoke inhalation.”