Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
This motherfucker was going to pay. Brock knocked into one crazed civilian after another.
Random bits of pained and terrified words in other languages assaulted him.
He stopped in the middle of the field and threw a glance toward Dani.
His heart pumped in his chest and his brain screamed at him to move forward and take out the shooter, but his body resisted.
Weight crushed down on his lungs. He forced his eyes to lock on the assaulter.
Leaving Dani behind was the hardest thing he’d ever had to fucking do, but he couldn’t let the bastard kill all these people—or worse, find Dani.
He wasn’t stupid. There wasn’t a chance in hell this shooting didn’t have something to do with Chrisolicom XII.
This asshole wanted the formula and he’d kill Dani and anyone around her to wipe out her connection to it.
I never should have brought her here.
More bursts of fire cut through the screams followed by the crumpling of bodies.
The sparks of light from the shooter’s assault rifle caught his attention.
Brock crouched and made a beeline for him.
A clearing opened and the shooter turned in a circle, exposing his back.
Brock knelt down, steadied his aim, and fired two shots.
The guy’s body jerked once as the first bullet hit his back, then twice as the second ripped through his shoulder blade.
The man clothed in black crumpled to his knees then fell flat on his face.
Brock charged for him. Sirens echoed in the sky, their shrill warning getting louder by the second.
He’d never been so relieved to hear sirens.
He skidded to his knees and reached for the man, keeping his gun stationed at his hip.
He felt the shooter’s pulse. Long and thready.
He scanned the thinning crowd. Indecision divided his consciousness in two.
No one would notice if he blew the motherfucker’s head off.
They were well away from any cameras, and it would be one less man after Dani.
The tendons in his hand twitched as he stared at the back of the unconscious killer.
He let out a growl of frustration and punched the grass.
He couldn’t do it. Couldn’t play god and couldn’t let the murderer get off that easy.
He squeezed the handle of the gun to ward off the impulse still threatening to take hold of his better judgment.
The man lay flat on his gun, but if he came to, he’d be able to get off more shots and potentially injure more people.
Brock placed his gun by his shoe, worked the strap of the weapon from the guy’s neck, and flipped him over. He moved the gun out of reach then repositioned his firearm at the man’s head. Sirens whirred their approach and Brock waved in the air at a group of armed policemen.
“Police! Lache ton arme!”
Ah, Christ. Being unarmed with a killer at his feet didn’t sit well with Brock, but he didn’t have much choice.
He raised his hands, lowered his handheld to the grass, and backed away.
The approaching cops closed in, and one of them retrieved the weapons from the grass as several others surrounded Brock and the shooter.
One of the cops yelled at him in French and Brock raised his hands high above his head.
“I don’t speak French. I’m American.”
The man waved at him to step away from the shooter. Brock cast another glance in Dani’s direction. She was too far away for him to spot in the darkness, but hopefully she saw him. He’d be taken in for questioning now, but none of that mattered as long as she knew to get to the hotel—and to safety.
Crack, crack, crack!
Brock’s blood thickened and turned cold. Fear stiffened his spine, paralyzing him.
Another shooter?
He turned in the direction of the gunfire . . . toward where he’d left Dani.
Dani huddled against the tree as she watched Brock raise his hands in the air.
Tears spilled over her lashes. He’d sacrificed himself for all these people.
A stab of anger hit her. She should be grateful.
Should be happy he’d saved dozens of lives.
But the selfish part of her ached for him.
He’d go to jail for carrying a weapon illegally, not to mention opening fire, and it wouldn’t be long before they tied him to her and Chrisolicom XII.
She’d never see him again.
She clutched her stomach and stood on shaky legs.
Helplessness pulled at her muscles, making her want to run, to fall to her knees and sob.
There was nothing she could do. If she stepped forward as a witness, she wouldn’t be of any help to Brock.
If anything, it would make matters worse for both of them if the police recognized her face.
Her only hope was to get back to the hotel and call Rhett.
She’d hand over the flash drive to the authorities in a heartbeat—even if she didn’t trust them—if it meant Brock could go free.
But it wouldn’t be that simple. For one, she didn’t have the flash drive. Brock did.
She peeled her hand away from the tree and stumbled on the grass.
“M-Mommy?” A small sob brought Dani’s steps to a halt. She turned to see a little girl, no older than three or four, standing in the field less than ten feet from the tree.
“Mommy, where are you?” The girl turned in a wide circle.
Dani’s heart palpitated in her chest. Please, God. Please let this child’s mother be alive. She lifted the hem of her dress and moved toward her. “Sweetheart, are you hurt?”
Big fat tears rolled down the girl’s cheeks. Wild brown curls sat on top of her head, and her baby blue dress was streaked with what she hoped was dirt, but it was too dark to be sure. Dani dropped to her knees a few feet away, not wanting to scare her more.
“I can’t find my mommy.” Her chin quivered, and she dashed the tears away with her hand.
Dani extended her fingers. Getting to the hotel was essential to her survival, and Brock’s, but there wasn’t a chance in hell she could walk away from the terrified kid. “I’m sure she’s looking for you too. There was a lot of commotion and it’s easy to lose people.”
The little girl stepped forward and put her tiny hand in Dani’s palm.
She clapped her other hand over the girl’s and forced a smile even though her lips wanted to crack.
Woeful brown eyes sat large in the girl’s face—she needed someone stable in the chaos and, even more, needed reassurance everything would be okay.
Dani spotted the group of officers around Brock’s surrendered form.
She needed to hurry before they put him in a squad car.
Even if she only got to make eye contact for a minute, she had to see him and let him know she was okay.
“Let’s find a police officer. Can I carry you?”
The girl nodded and held out her arms. Dani moved her clutch so it sat in front of her chest, swooped her up and sat her on her hip, and then lifted the material at her knees with her free hand so she wouldn’t trip. “What’s your name?”
“Anna Bella.”
“Well, that’s a beautiful name. My name is Dani.
” Shit. She wished she could take back the slip.
All it would take was for Anna Bella to tell the cops her name and she’d be locked up.
God, why hadn’t she thought of that? Because her bones still shook from fear and anticipation of a bullet ripping through her flesh, that’s why.
Crack, crack, crack!
She whipped around. Her heel caught on a mound of grass and she fell backward, landing hard on her ass. The breath whooshed from her lungs. She quickly scanned the darkness and saw a figure step out of the shadows near the trees, a machine gun across his chest.
A sob caught in her throat. No. Please, God. No.
Anna Bella didn’t scream but curled herself tightly into Dani’s embrace.
She wanted to throw the child from her lap and tell her to run, but the fierce need to shield her took over.
She wrapped her arms around Anna Bella and huddled on the grass overtop of her to shield her from the bullets that might come their way.
Anna Bella’s small cries penetrated Dani’s consciousness, and she gave her a squeeze. “It’s okay, honey. It’s okay. Shh. Please don’t cry, okay?” She whispered the plea next to the girl’s ear, praying the darkness would somehow hide them from the second shooter’s view.
Anna Bella nodded, and a tiny loop of relief loosened some of the terror. Footsteps moved purposefully across the field littered with dead and injured bodies.
Maybe the shooter will think we’re already dead . . .
“Get up and we won’t shoot the kid.” The deep voice popped her bubble of hope. A vise clenched Dani’s heart.
They were after her. The shooters. All these people had died because of her.
She straightened, still keeping her body in front of Anna Bella’s, and turned to her pursuer.
“If you hurt her, I won’t cooperate with you.”
The man’s hard stare didn’t change. Light from the Eiffel Tower behind her illuminated his scowl. His thick nose met the hard, round planes of his face.
“Get up.” He jerked his weapon, motioning for her to stand.
Anna Bella clutched her arms. “Don’t leave!”
Dani stopped to give her a hug. “It’s okay. You’re going to be fine. I want you to stand up and run to the policemen over there—they’re coming toward us. Raise your hands and wave at them.”
As if he just noticed the cops’ fast approach, the man gripped her hair and hauled her backward. “Get up!” he bellowed, lifting her to her toes.
The strands threatened to rip from her head and her scalp screamed in protest. She held her body forward to prevent being thrown backward. Anna Bella reached for her and Dani kept her face as neutral as possible despite the pain searing through her skull.
“Run, Anna Bella!”
The girl pushed to her feet and ran, her corkscrew curls bouncing on her head as she faded into the darkness. Rough hands clamped onto Dani’s arms, and the man propelled her off the field and into the trees.
No, no, no!
She had to stop him. The spikes of her high heels caught on the uneven terrain, making her footing clumsy. Her knee buckled, but he pushed her forward before she could fall.
“Go!” A van waited at the road. Fear seized the air in her lungs. She dug her feet into the grass and fought against the current of his weight behind her.
Anna Bella was safely out of sight. The paralyzing ice coating her veins morphed to liquid fire.
If he got her inside the van, she’d die.
Using all her strength, she dug her feet into the ground and shoulder checked him in the side.
He teetered off balance and his hand flailed for her.
She dodged his grasp and raced for the field.
If she could get close enough for the cops to see her, she might have a chance.
Her attacker cursed behind her, and she forced the muscles in her legs to sprint. She lifted her dress and her toe caught a tree root. She went down, and her knees connected with the bark that had tripped her.
“Fucking bitch!”
She surged to her feet, panic coursing through her. There were movements on the field a hundred feet away. Hope spread in her chest.
“Hel—”
His hand clamped over her mouth and he wrestled her back in the direction of the van.
With one arm looped around her midsection, he carried her with ease.
She bucked and twisted, but he didn’t falter.
The open van door loomed before her, and fresh terror singed her esophagus.
She chomped her teeth on the meaty part of his fingers and he howled.
His hand jerked out of her mouth and the tinny taste of blood hit her tongue.
She threw her head back and opened her mouth on a scream—
Bang!
Something hard bashed into her skull. Her head snapped to the side and her vision flickered. Her body turned weightless but her consciousness screamed at her to stay focused, to fight back, to do something . . .
He lifted her into his arms and her eyes lolled back to stare at the twisting sky overhead. Then he flung her in the air and her back bounced hard against the bottom of the van’s steel floor. Her head smacked into something sharp and blackness collapsed around her.