Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Who the hell are these guys?
Brock charged the guy he’d just thrown a chair at. The man had gotten off a shot—he’d kill the bastard if he’d hit Dani. Worry pushed to the forefront of his mind, but he kicked it away. If he didn’t get rid of these guys, he and Dani both wouldn’t make it out alive.
Regaining his balance, the shooter turned toward him. Brock took in his appearance: jeans and leather jacket, close-cropped hair, sharp brown eyes.
The guy positioned the gun in front of him and Brock dove for his midsection.
Crack!
Pain ripped through Brock’s right shoulder. He grunted and connected with the shooter, taking him down. Heat spread across his bicep and radiated up his neck. Rage filled his veins, and he pressed his forearm into the asshole’s throat, keeping his weight distributed over the rest of his body.
“Who sent you?” Brock ground his arm deeper into the man’s jugular and his eyes bulged. Brock wrestled the gun from the man’s fingers, trapped beneath Brock’s knee. He shifted the weapon into his palm and pointed it under the man’s chin. “Tell me who hired you.”
“Get the fuck up!”
Brock’s hackles rose, and he turned to the voice. Beside him was a man dressed in black pants, a brown coat, and dark shades. He stood with his feet braced apart and his hands locked on the handle of the gun trained on Brock’s head. “Put the gun down.” His accent suggested he was of French origin.
The muscles in Brock’s shoulder jumped to the rhythm of his pulse. Over his dead body. Granted, Switzerland was different from the US in many ways, but these guys weren’t cops.
“You a cop? Show me your badge.” He didn’t lift his weight from the dude suffocating beneath his arm.
“Stand up. Now!”
The man beneath him grasped at Brock’s sleeve.
Brock glanced down. The guy’s face had turned reddish purple.
Spit leaked out the sides of his mouth and his eyes were bloodshot.
He pressed a little harder. If he could get this dude to pass out, he’d only have one thug to contend with.
Brock scanned the library. The citizens had cleared out, leaving chairs overturned and books abandoned.
The last thing he wanted to do was risk an innocent person’s life. With the library empty and Dani hopefully out a window or secured in a stall of the locked bathroom, he had to take action.
“I’ll do what you say if you tell me who you are.”
The man took a step forward and dipped his chin. “We’re here on behalf of Ubrigg Lichti. Your friend has something we want.”
Brock’s nerves prickled and his brain worked at warp speed.
Even if this guy was telling the truth, there was no way in hell they could trust them.
Ubrigg’s men had already tried to kill her at her apartment.
They’d do it again even if they got what they wanted.
Especially if they thought she’d seen the formula.
And if he wasn’t who he claimed, he could be one of the men Sven was supposed to hand the data over to—the supposed rival company.
As the man beneath him went slack, Brock lifted the gun over his head. “Back up and I’ll put it on the ground.”
The second man’s face tensed but he backed up several feet. Brock kept his gaze locked on the guy’s tight form and slowly lowered the gun, keeping his finger on the trigger. He needed to divert him, and fast. Brock jerked his focus over the man’s shoulder, and the guy glanced to his side.
Leaping to his feet, Brock fired. The man howled as the bullet connected with his thigh, and he grabbed his leg and went down.
Brock sucker punched him in the nose and his head snapped backward.
Blood dribbled down his face and he moaned, one hand on his thigh, the other covering his nose.
Then Brock grabbed the shooter’s dropped weapon and secured it in the waistband at the small of his back.
He brought the gun in his other hand to the dude’s uninjured leg. “Let’s try this again. Who sent you?”
Sirens screeched outside and Brock hesitated. He turned his attention to the red and blue lights flickering down the street in front of the library. Fuck. He had to get to Dani. He fished in the unconscious guy’s inside jacket pocket, grabbed his wallet, and ran to the women’s bathroom.
He rapped the heel of his fist against the metal door and it jumped on the hinges. “Dani, it’s me! Come out!” He pounded again. Nothing. Shit! He pushed through the men’s restroom door, locked it, and moved to the window between the line of stalls and wall of sinks.
He shoved it open and leaned out. Several feet to the left was another window—and it was open.
She must have escaped. He lifted his foot to the sill, balanced on the edge, and dropped eight feet to the alley below.
He landed on the gravel in a deep squat and grunted as the impact jarred his knees.
The sirens screeched louder to the west, indicating they’d arrived at the library.
He had to move quickly. Cruisers would be scouring every corner in minutes.
He turned in the direction of the parkade and ran down the alley to the street behind the library.
His bicep screamed and he touched the wound.
Warm, sticky liquid coated his fingers. Shit.
He covered the region with his palm and brushed past strangers, keeping his head down.
Locals buzzed around storefronts. He hoped he blended in.
The parkade came into view and he clamped his teeth together.
Worry collided with terror in his gut, and he forced away images of Dani getting caught.
It took all his self-control to walk at a normal pace the rest of the distance to the parking garage.
Once he reached the stairwell, he took the stairs two at a time.
He flung open the door and broke into a run on the second level.
His rented Ford came into view, and he strained to look through the windows as he approached. Where the hell was she? He reached the driver’s side door and ripped it open. Empty. He moved to the rear door and did the same. Their bags lay piled on the seats. She was gone.
No, no, no.
Anguish exploded inside him. He grabbed a handful of his hair and cursed. He never should have left her. Never should have—
“Brock!” Dani’s body collided into his side, and her arms circled his waist. “Ohmigod, I thought you were dead.” Her voice broke on a sob.
Immeasurable relief sucked at his heart, releasing the gripping pain in his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and dipped his face to her hair. Then he pushed her back just far enough to give her a menacing glare. “You scared the shit out of me. I told you to wait in the vehicle.”
Her slight shoulders bobbed. “I wanted to make sure no one came after me. I would have been a sitting duck in the car if they had.”
He brought his palm to her cheek, and with the hand on her back he pulled her tighter to his chest. Her perfect clear-blue orbs widened. They squeezed his soul with every lust-filled look she gave him.
Pride at her quick thinking swelled in his chest. “Like I said, you’re the brains.” He smoothed his thumb beneath her eye. Touching her like this was the last thing he should be doing, but there wasn’t a chance he could stop.
She tilted her head, surveying him, but her eyes sparked with pleasure and heat emanated from her body.
If he didn’t step away from her, kissing her would be the least of his worries. “Let’s get out of here.”
Dani clicked her seatbelt into place as Brock backed the vehicle out of the parking spot.
She sat as far forward in her seat as the belt allowed.
Reclining even a small degree was impossible—her muscle fibers were still buzzing with adrenaline.
Leaving Brock to his own devices while she escaped through the library window hadn’t been one of her highest points.
She’d been powerless. And damn near cowardly for letting him handle that on his own.
She’d stood in the parkade for over ten minutes with tears rolling down her cheeks, certain he was dead, that she’d never see him again, and that maybe, just maybe, she cared about him more than she wanted to admit.
She whirled on him. “So what happened?”
He reached inside his jacket and placed a gun on the console between them. “That’s yours.”
She fingered the smooth, hard metal. The tendons in her hand resisted, but she forced them to pick up the weapon.
“I have one already,” he said.
“How did you . . . ? These are from the guys who were watching us?”
“Yeah.” The word came out clipped. He turned out of the parkade, heading in the opposite direction of the library. He reached into his pocket again and handed her a brown leather wallet. “I took that off the guy who shot at you. Check his ID.”
She snapped open the wallet. A silver badge was clipped to the leather.
Switzerland Polizei
“Holy shit, Brock. He’s a cop.” She lowered the wallet to her lap so it wouldn’t fall on the floor. Her trembling fingers couldn’t bear its weight.
Brock snatched it up and read the badge then flipped to the ID in the clear plastic window. “The other guy said they were working for Ubrigg. Look at his picture—is he the same guy who was in your apartment?”
She accepted the wallet again and stared at the small image on the driver’s license. It had been dark that night. Much too dark to make out all his facial features.
“I don’t think so. He has a buzz cut. The man in my apartment had longer hair, and I stabbed him in the back of the thigh, so I highly doubt he’d be able to run like he did at the library.”
“Shit. The bastards are multiplying.”
“The cop who broke into my house had to work for Ubrigg. There’s no way the police would have caught me so quickly. Something must have tipped Ubrigg off and made him check the cameras from his building that day.”
“I agree. If the cops were legit, they’d have had squad cars there long before you escaped.”