Chapter 9 Brady
brADY
“Elizabeth!” I slam my palm against the steel doors, but it’s already humming its way down to the lobby.
“What’s happening?”
“She just closed the elevator on me.”
Finn smothers a snort, and I hang up on him as I sprint for the door to the stairwell, slamming it open so hard it rattles in the frame. I take the stairs two at a time.
“Stubborn woman,” I seethe.
I fucking told her to wait, and she didn’t.
A voice in the back of my head tells me it’s partially my fault. If I hadn’t lost my temper and handled it so clumsily, she wouldn’t have bolted.
With my boots hammering on the concrete steps and my anger pulsing in my ears, I remember how her voice cracked when she asked if I remembered.
I do. I remember everything.
I should’ve kept my damn mouth shut. It wasn’t the right time.
Still, this isn’t a fucking game. She needs to accept that.
Shoving through the stairwell door, I emerge into the lobby, chest tight. We don’t know what the threat is, and she is taking unnecessary risks because of pride.
Isn’t your pride why you said something? Would you have goaded another client that way?
You wanted her to remember you.
Asshole.
Glass doors swing out into the thick press of the humid Georgia evening. I see her striding into the empty parking lot toward my car.
Fucking hell. Couldn’t she have at least waited inside?
I’m two steps from the doors when I see the figure rushing up behind her, and I explode into action, racing toward them.
“Elizabeth!” I roar, sprinting across the asphalt.
The screech of tires drowns my shout as an SUV with a door open, stops in front of her.
Oh. Fuck. No.
Elizabeth is fighting hard, twisting and kicking, doing her best to slow them down.
Hang on, baby. The words echo in my head as I reach for the weapon holstered at my back. I can’t risk a shot because the bastard is pressed tightly to her side.
Another hooded figure bursts from the vehicle, but my target is the asshole with his hands on her. I reach the struggling pair first, and Elizabeth lets out a scream that causes a red mist to coat my vision.
I slam into the man dragging her toward the open vehicle, forcing him to loosen his hold, my shoulder driving into his ribs hard enough to lift him off the ground. Elizabeth falls free and stumbles, but I don’t have time to check if she’s okay.
My fist connects with his face twice, and his nose cracks.
He grunts, staggering back, but I don’t let him fall.
Grabbing his shirt, I yank him in and ram my knee into his gut before shoving him toward his friend.
He knocks the other man sideways before crumpling to the ground, giving me the opportunity I need.
A sharp palm strike to his throat causes the second man to drop his knife, choking.
A knife? Really? Amateurs.
I send him reeling with a hook to the jaw, then duck as the first guy recovers and comes in swinging. Countering, I pivot inside his reach and land two clean shots to the ribs. He drops like a stone.
“Let’s go!” The driver yells and revs the SUV’s engine as the office complex’s security car pulls into the lot.
The flash of headlights distracts me for a second, and I curse when the distraction allows the assholes to scramble up.
One detours a few steps and slams into Elizabeth before diving into the SUV.
She gasps, a look of shock on her face, and her eyes meet mine. For one long second, our gazes hold, and then her knees buckle.
“Elizabeth.” I catch her before she hits the ground. Her whole body is trembling.
“What the hell is going on?” I hear a man’s panting voice reach me and look over my shoulder to see the security guard has gotten out of his car but is keeping a wary distance from us.
“Get a plate!” I shout at him before returning my focus to the woman sagging heavily into my side. “I’ve got you.” My arm locks tight around her. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
The SUV’s tires screech as it peels out, back tires fishtailing across the lot before it disappears.
“Holy shit,” Elizabeth whispers.
“You’re okay now.”
I press her to me, eyes still scanning the shadows. I’m vibrating with adrenaline, but I force myself to breathe, to detach from the very unprofessional reaction I’m having and assess the situation. Elizabeth is upright, but barely.
That’s when I register the wet warmth against my palm.
I pull back, look her over. “Elizabeth.” I grip her arms and crouch slightly to see her face. “Are you hurt? Did he cut you?”
Her lips part, but she doesn’t speak. I follow her gaze to the torn edge of her jacket, then to the blood blooming below it.
My breath freezes in my lungs.
“Damn. I love this suit,” she breathes.
“Hey! Look at me.” I catch her elbow when she stumbles. “Stay with me. You’re in shock, but you’re going to be fine,” I growl. My words are more of a demand than a reassurance.
She blinks up at me, her skin already rapidly paling, and a visceral fear rocks through me.
“We need to get out of the open. Call an ambulance,” I bark at the guard staring dumbly at me.
Scooping her into my arms, I don’t think about how slight and vulnerable she feels. I keep my face expressionless, but on the inside I’m a fucking maelstrom.
Someone hurt her.
On my watch.
Inside the lobby, I lower her to her feet, but her knees give out, and I catch her again. Easing her down until we are both on the cold marble floor, I cradle her between my legs and peel open her suit jacket. I have to bite my tongue not to react. I need her to stay calm.
The thin fabric of her blouse is soaked in red from the gash I can see through the ragged tear. My jaw clenches so hard I swear I hear a pop.
Elizabeth is pasty, and beads of sweat are forming along her hairline. Unfocused blue eyes look up at me.
“Give me your shirt.” The security guard who followed us is still on the phone with 911.
“Give me your fucking shirt,” I snarl, when he doesn’t move. “I can’t get mine off without hurting her.”
The man scrambles to get it off before shoving it at me. Quickly folding his uniform shirt into a pad, I press it tight to her wound. A hot splintering sensation lances through my own ribs when she stiffens with a sharp cry.
“They’re on their way,” the guard tells us, hovering nearby.
“See if you can find a first-aid kit.”
It’s unlikely, but on the off chance the kit has a coagulant, it’s worth a try. I berate myself for taking my personal car instead of one of Elite’s vehicles. Rhodes oversaw stocking our fleet with everything we could possibly need in a situation like this.
Elizabeth’s eyes are taking longer to open each time she blinks.
“Still with me?”
“I’m fine.”
I swear she has that response on autopilot.
“Yeah?” I clear my throat hoping to cover the gravelly sound of my voice. “Then stop bleeding on me.”
This time when she closes her eyes, they don’t open right away. “Stay with me, Firefly. No naps allowed.”
Her thick lashes lift, and she tries to lift her head. “I tried—”
“I know. I saw. You did great, but don’t talk right now.” I cup her face. “Just stay awake. Stay with me.”
“Are you hurt?”
My brow furrows. Her question was more air than sound.
Where the hell is the ambulance?
“What?”
“Did he get you, too?”
I shake my head. “No, I’m okay.”
“Why do you sound like that? Are you mad at me?”
She squeezes her eyes shut for a second, and I hate knowing it’s because she’s hurting.
“Yeah, I’m pretty pissed.” My gaze falls to the red seeping through the khaki cloth.
“Are you going to disappear again?”
My jaw works, an emotion I can’t identify roiling inside my chest. “I’m not going anywhere.”
She opens her mouth, trying to say something, but her eyes flutter closed again.
Rage burns through me.
I’m going to end whoever sent those men.