Chapter 23
LEIF
"Someone must be feeling lucky today," I remarked as Forrest and I made our way slowly down the stairs.
"It won't last," Forrest said darkly.
"Of course not. Their luck is just about to run out. They messed with the wrong people." I peered ahead of us.
"Yes, they did." He glanced at me and smirked.
We sounded like a couple of characters in a movie. A pair of rugged action heroes ready to take on a bunch of bad guys.
The problem was, they had a script and knew they were going to walk away at the end of the movie. We had no script and no guarantees.
At least we had the ruggedly handsome part down pat.
"Are you sure it's us they're after?" I asked as we stepped down from the twentieth floor to the nineteenth.
"No," Forrest said. "I'm going to make sure though."
Of course he was. They could be after almost anyone in the building. That wouldn't deter him. He was determined to protect Sable at all costs. So was I, but I was low-key allergic to suicide missions.
"You know we could be putting a target on our backs unnecessarily, right?" I adjusted my grip on my gun, keeping it low to my side.
"I'll take the risk," he said.
He was always such a man of few words, preferring to save them for court.
"When was the last time you slept?" Tired people tended to make bad choices.
This struck me as a particularly bad choice.
What were the chances I could talk him into turning around and going back up to his place?
I could try to pistol whip him, knock him unconscious, and carry him back up to his apartment.
Up all those stairs, one after the other…
Yeah, okay, that was ambitious even for me. Before you ask, I wasn't going to knock him out and leave him there either. The man was more a brother to me than my actual brother. No offense to Mikko. He and I were as different as brothers could be. He was all brawn and I was brains. With brawn.
"I'm fine," Forrest said. "I had a nap in my office during lunch."
“Oh, well, that makes me feel so much better," I said sarcastically.
I pictured him leaning back in his expensive leather chair, feet on his desk, hands in his lap. Comfortable, but not in a way that would revitalize him that much. It'd be like sleeping sitting up in economy on a long flight. So I've heard. Business class or bust, as far as I was concerned.
"You should have sent Woody with me. He would have curled up in a corner of the maintenance office for a decent sleep."
We both knew that wasn't true. He would have found a nice subway carriage and had a nap in there.
"If you can't handle this, you can go back up," Forrest said, blunt like he tended to be when he was at the end of his patience.
"I didn't say I couldn't handle it," I replied. "I don't know what we're supposed to be handling. Do you?"
"Not precisely." A surprising admission from a man who prided himself on being careful about everything.
"That's what I thought. A pigeon could have set off the alarm."
"Pigeons don't move in groups of three, approximately six feet tall," Forrest said.
"I fucking hope not." I snorted. "That would be terrifying. Not to mention the mess they'd make with their shit." No statue would be safe again.
Forrest held up his hand and stopped mid-step.
I stopped too and listened carefully. "I can't hear anything," I mouthed.
He shook his head slightly. Neither could he, but he had. Someone was there. He'd never been wrong at times like this. It was one of the reasons I trusted him with my life. He noticed things other people didn't. Heard things. His attention to detail was almost scary sometimes.
I didn't want to be there when he was wrong.
I was certain he wasn't wrong now
I glanced downward, trying to see the stairs below us.
Why did we always seem to end up in stairs recently? Glancing down from a great heights made me dizzy. Couldn't people sneak around somewhere more interesting? The elevator? The foyer? Better yet, not sneak around at all.
We were the ones who did the sneaking. We didn't have a monopoly on it, but we should. We were the good guys here. If they gave out sneaking licenses, we'd be a shoe-in.
Admittedly, the bad guys snuck around more than we did, but we were better at it than them.
Probably.
There, I spotted a flash of movement a few floors below us.
Just one.
It took a moment for my tired mind to process that.
Only one.
Only one.
I mouthed, "One."
Forrest mouthed a curse. Fuck. Although it could have been funk, but I didn't think so.
"You said there were three," I whispered.
"There were."
He turned and started back up the stairs, moving faster now.
Our movement must have caught the attention of whoever was down there, because they also started to hurry, making no attempt to hide their presence now.
Forrest glanced back.
"You keep going," I told him. "I'll deal with this asshole."
He hesitated for a moment before nodding and continuing to trot up the stairs, back toward his penthouse.
Once again, we could skip leg day.
Yay?
I stepped back up to the next landing and pressed myself against the wall.
If whoever followed us looked, they wouldn't see anyone here.
With any luck, they'd assume Forrest's retreating footsteps were the only ones in the stairwell with them.
They sounded loud enough, echoing through the space, matching the echo from down below.
I was trapped between them, a retreating sound and an approaching one.
Nothing I couldn't manage. I was Leif Larsen, interior decorator extraordinaire, I could deal with one paid thug.
The footsteps slowed as they approached. Their instincts must have honed in on my presence.
A paid thug with survival instincts. That could make this more of a challenge.
I dropped to a crouch, watched the stairs carefully while listening to every step.
One.
Two.
Three.
They were close now. A few more steps and I'd see them appear below me.
Adrenaline pumped through my veins. I felt more awake now than I had in hours.
Ready.
Any moment now.
I wrapped my finger around the trigger, holding it out in front of me, aiming for where I thought the top of their head would appear first.
There, a hint of hair, bright silver, followed by a neat bun.
What the?
A flash of a face, then a smile. One I knew, but only in passing.
"Well, hello there," she greeted warmly. "What are you doing in here?"
"Mrs. Stevens." I lowered the gun before she could see it. "Just getting some exercise. What about you?"
"The same, dear," she said. She held grocery bags in either hand, and a hint of sweat on her brow.
"I always walk up the last few floors. I might be old, but I like to keep in shape.
Don't tell anyone," she added in a conspiratorial whisper.
"They'll think I'm a crazy old woman, traipsing all the way up here. "
"They wouldn't dare." I rose to my feet. "Would you like some help with those?" I started to reach for one of her bags, but she waved me off, moving them out of reach.
"No, no, I've got this. This is my floor anyway." She nodded toward the door behind me.
"Right," I hurried to open it for her, and let her walk past me and through. If Forrest's elderly neighbor wasn't a paid thug, where the hell were the three of them?
"Fuck," I muttered under my breath and started to bolt back up the stairs.
The sound of Forrest's movements were long gone. I had no idea how far ahead of me he was. At this point, he might be back at the penthouse.
He might also be pinned down by one of the three thugs he'd seen on the security camera. I hadn't seen much over his shoulder, just shapes moving into the stairs.
Were they thugs or other residents? My instincts screamed at me that I needed to hurry the hell up.
I glanced down every so often, making sure I wasn't followed. I was tempted to duck out through the next doorway and take the elevator, but without knowing where anyone was, it was too great a risk.
This was safer than being trapped in an elevator, or having someone hit the emergency brake while I was between floors. Who knows how long it would take to get out of there if I was stuck? They were probably hoping that's what I'd do, but I wasn't born yesterday, not even the day before.
I felt like I hadn't slept since then. The adrenaline had faded from my system.
On the up side, I hadn't accidentally shot a harmless woman in the head.
That would have been all sorts of bad juju.
Not to mention highly illegal, and something I didn't want to have to live with for the rest of my life.
It would be just my lucky to end up in court in front of Forrest, with him having to sentence me to prison forever.
The inmates would have a field day with a guy like me.
Hard pass.
I grabbed hold of the railing to pull myself up to the next landing. Why the hell did the penthouse need to be at the very top of the building? I might yell at Forrest later for that.
Sure, it had a great view of the city, but at times like this? It sucked hardcore. Not in the good way either. For a moment I wished I was my brother. He'd get up the stairs more quickly, being as fit as he was.
On the other hand, I was me, so I didn't have anything to envy anyone about, even him. Also, in a situation like this, I wouldn't get a penalty for high sticking, tripping, holding, or roughing.
Yeah, I had it pretty sweet.
I slowed as I approached Forrest's floor. I hadn't seen or heard a sign of him. The stairs were in silence, except for the ragged sound of my breathing.
I reached the door at the end of the landing and placed a hand on handle, ready to open it.
The moment my hand touched the metal, a loud bang sounded on the other side.
Sable
Woody aimed his gun as the front door opened. Lowered it when he saw Forrest step inside.
"You hesitated," Forrest said to him.
"Lucky I did," Woody said, "otherwise I would have shot your face off."
"Lucky it was me." Forrest closed the door behind him and tapped on the security panel again.
"Where's Leif?" I asked.
Forrest glanced back, looking up and down at my outfit with amusement. "Dealing with someone back there in the stairs."
"By himself?" Why would Forrest leave him there alone?
"There was only one of them," Forrest explained. "The other two I saw on the camera." He shook his head and peered at the screen. "They have to be here somewhere."
"Should we get out of here?" I asked. "If they're coming all the way up here, we'll be trapped."
"It's nothing we can't deal with," Forrest said, but he went on looking.
The vision on the screen switched from one location within the building to another, to another. Places I wouldn't have suspected cameras were located. Inside the stairs. Inside both elevators.
"He owns this building," Woody explained. "Had it fitted out for security before anyone moved in. We should be safe here."
"Should be," I echoed. Nowhere in the world was completely impenetrable. Not even Forrest Cross' penthouse.
In the corner of the screen, one image remained the same: the corridor outside the penthouse.
"Wait a minute," I said. "Woody, you didn't see Forrest approaching through the camera out there?" I pointed toward the door.
"Fuck." Woody and Forrest both swore.
A heartbeat later, a loud bang blew the door in, knocking us all off our feet.
Thank you for reading! The story concludes in Pretty Psychos. If you’d love a bonus scene of Sable being kidnapped from the auction, read on!