Chapter One
Adam
“S on of a bitch.”
Yeah, getting shot was not a good way to start the day, but it could have been worse.
Adam pressed the edge of his t-shirt against the bullet wound in his left side and slipped down the alley, hugging the shadows. When running footsteps drew near, he stepped back against the damp brick wall.
With the Ruger—fully loaded and silenced—clenched in his grip, he pushed hard into his side to stem the flow of blood.
He needed to reassess his attacker’s desire to kill him.
The footsteps stopped inside the alley and Adam went completely still, a trained act not many could accomplish, but one he’d learned while young, stay still or be found. As he grew older, it became stay still or be killed.
The darkly dressed figure of a man stepped into the dark, stained alley, staying in the shadows, hovering on the fringes and slipping in unnoticed, much like Adam had done. Well, it was exactly like he’d done.
He was pretty sure they’d send one of their best to kill him, but this guy was about to have a really bad day. When someone missed their first shot at him, they rarely, if ever, got another.
He didn’t even lift his arm all the way. Bending his elbow, he shot from waist high and hit the concrete next to the man’s head. The wall cracked, the blowback was immediate, and the crash of trash cans and cursing were his cue. He would have tried for a leg shot, but with the darkness and his loss of blood, shooting the wall was the best he could do.
If the guy kept coming, Adam would shoot to kill. Anything less was asking to get dead.
Clenching his teeth, he silently lunged across the alley and grabbed the ladder, climbing the fire escape until he reached the roof. He ran toward the access door.
Halfway across the roof, bullets peppered the tar-covered slabs behind him.
Damned bastard! When the tables were turned, and trust him, the tables would be turned, whoever this guy was, was in for a world of hurt.
“You can run, Sphinx, but you can’t hide!”
He stumbled and righted himself, then lunged for the entrance of the apartment building.
That fucking voice rang in his head, blowing his mind.
When he reached the door, he ducked inside and slammed back against the wall.
He knew that voice! Fucking hell. He sucked in several savage breaths.
Using the doorjamb for cover, he fired back out the door, his aim high. This time, he meant to miss.
“Keep chasing me and you won’t live to see another birthday,” he hollered back and then held his breath, waiting for that deep, rasping tone.
“I’ll see you in hell first.” The man’s shout accompanied a hail of bullets that pinged the doorway near Adam’s head.
He scowled. He wasn’t mistaken about that voice.
When the edge of the doorway splintered apart, he swung his face away to avoid flying wood and debris. Swinging his arm around, he fired two more shots before leaping down the stairs. Releasing his hold against his dripping wound, he slammed a new clip into the chamber.
Two floors down, he shoved open the rickety interior door and ran down the stained carpeted hallway until he reached a closed apartment door.
With a silent apology to the occupants, he kicked in the door, ran across the living room, and left by way of their balcony. Adrenaline kicked in and he flew over the side, snagging the metal railing to stop his fall. He hung suspended by one hand. His side burned and the blood made the material of his pants wet and sticky. Fucking hell, these were his best pair of pants.
“But you’re alive,” he muttered, thinking about the man who was after him. Yeah, he was damned lucky.
Beneath him lay the dark parking lot. Its wet surface ran along the back of the building, but he knew it was too far of a drop to the pavement or the cars below. Risking a broken limb wasn’t in the cards. A commercial trash can was underneath the balcony to the left with the metal top closed. Landing in the trash wasn’t an option.
Swinging his body, he dropped down to the balcony below. Nearer to the top of the cars now, he gauged the distance. Closer, but not by much.
Snick, snick.
Bullets hit the stucco near his head, and he raced to the far side of the flowerpot-filled patio and climbed over the railing.
A bullet bounced off the metal near his hand and he lost his grip.
Fall any distance and a person could risk permanent damage, but when trained for the fall, a man could walk away unharmed. The top of the brown four-door car met his back and ass with a painful crunch. The harsh cry that emerged from his throat wasn’t planned, but he could no more stop it than he could stop moving. Because he never stopped moving. Rolling off the hood, he dropped to the pavement.
“Sphinx?”
Was that concern in the man’s voice?
Fat chance of that.
The fucker.
Running in a crouch, he weaved in between cars and SUVs, slipping farther away from the threat.
Right about then, he wanted to stop but kept putting one foot in front of the other, hoping like hell he could get to the apartment before he passed out.
A few hours later and with some fancy hiding, he made it, but just barely.
When the door opened, he fell inward.
“Fucking hell!” Lex snarled and wrapped one burly arm around his waist to yank him inside and slam the door. “Were you followed?”
“No.”
The big, beefy guy eyed him. “Leave a blood trail?”
“Don’t think so.”
He hissed when Lex shoved him toward the broken-down sofa. He gratefully sank onto the ripped cushions while Lex locked the deadbolt.
Lifting his shirt, Adam dabbed at the wound where the bullet nicked him. “It’s just a crease.”
Lex snorted and stomped into the kitchen and returned shortly with a first aid kit. Dropping the kit down, Lex nodded to his shirt.
“Take that off.”
He did as he was told and used a wad of gauze to dab at the bloody wound. It was a lost cause and Lex was there again, pressing a clean towel to the injury.
“Here, hold this.”
He held on, leaning his head against the back of the couch.
“So, did you talk to your contact at least?” Lex asked and kneeled down next to the couch. Concern flashed in Lex’s cold, mud-colored eyes, but that was only because he was the guy’s meal ticket. When a person lived on the fringes of society, beggars couldn’t be choosers. Adam paid the rent for the tiny closet in the one-bedroom, overcrowded apartment.
“Does it look like I did?” he croaked, letting his lids slide shut.
He’d just close his eyes for one second. Happy freaking birthday to me.
Maybe then he’d wake up and this would all be a fucking dream.
One big nightmare.