Chapter 30
LUKE
My footsteps are going to wear a path in front of Kate’s desk if she doesn’t get here soon. What could be taking so long? Is she sick?
I need to send a woman down to the restroom to check in on her.
“Screw it. I’ll do it myself.”
I begin stalking down the hall, my steps quickening with each employee I pass who isn’t my assistant.
Referring to her that way in your head isn’t going to change how you feel.
I punch the elevator button harder than necessary. The thought comes to me that I’m extremely concerned for her safety right now, and if I don’t find her in one piece, I will definitely lose my shit.
What is happening to me?
After an eternity that nearly sends me into cardiac arrest, the doors part. A few faceless suits stroll out. I don’t bother with acknowledging their presence, moving into the metal box and pressing the lobby button. A scrawny, small man tentatively joins me, adjusting his thick glasses.
“Um, twenty-two, please.”
I debate telling him I’m in a rush, but Kate is most likely already heading upstairs on another elevator.
The Russians wouldn’t attack a busy office during the day. If they try again, it’ll be somewhere without witnesses.
I hope.
My eyes laser in on the red numbers counting down. My mind is reeling with possibilities.
She got sidetracked, talking to a friend.
She’s sick.
She got stuck, waiting for the elevator.
She’s on the elevator, riding with other people, making multiple stops.
She decided she was terrified and ran, which would mean she doesn’t trust me.
We’re on level twenty-three when my panicked thoughts are interrupted by the screeching halt of the elevator, lights cutting out. The passenger with me lets out a squeal, dropping something.
It’s immediate, the way my body switches into tactical mode. The gun concealed on my hip is in my hand, safety off. An emergency red light is shining from the control panel, illuminating the fearful expression of the rider with me. His eyebrows rise, eyes glued to the gun I’m holding.
“You—er—you—”
“Do you know what’s happening? Who’s doing this?”
He shakes his head, tracing the sign of the cross over his chest with his shaking hands.
“No—no—Mr. Bradshaw, I—”
I raise a hand to silence him, trying to listen. This can’t be a coincidence. Power outage on a clear day?
Kate.
I’m in motion before I have time to think about it. I press the call button for emergency services.
No answer.
I press it again, praying for a response. I’m met with silence again, aside from the other man’s quickening breaths.
“All right, this is intentional, meaning the entire building is out. I have to get to the lobby now. I don’t have time to take you with me, but you’ll be fine if you stay put. In fact, this is probably the safest place you can be.”
His eyes are the size of quarters as he slowly nods.
“I’ll send someone for you later.”
I don’t wait to see his reaction, splitting open the doors to see that we’re seventy-five percent of the way on one floor with plenty of room for me to squeeze through.
It’s simple enough. After I crawl out, I survey my surroundings.
This floor must be under construction based on the plastic hanging from the ceiling and various tools and debris.
There’s some light pouring through from the windows, but I don’t see another soul.
I race through to the stairs, my mind in SEAL mode. Pulling out my phone as I descend, I dial Jackson’s number. He doesn’t pick up.
“Shit. Why now?”
I pull up another name, hitting the Call button.
The FBI agent investigating Steelhart answers on the first ring. “Bradshaw, haven’t heard from you in a while.”
“Rick, they’re after me. Power’s out at Bradshaw Enterprises.”
I hear rustling on the other line.
“What else?”
“They came after my assistant Sunday.”
“And you didn’t tell me because? Jones, Wright, we’re out,” he says to someone in the room with him.
“Maybe I thought you had something to do with it. Maybe I thought you’d use her as bait. The point is, I need backup. Now.”
“We’ll be there in ten.”
I hit the End button, so I can run faster. Ten minutes could be too late for Kate. As I get farther down, the dark stairwell begins to crowd with people meandering slowly, mostly cheerful because they’re getting to take off early on a Friday.
“I need through, people! Move!”
A few part the way for me, one guy yelling, “Hey, man. What’s going on? Something wrong?”
I ignore him, shoving people as I go. All I can think about is getting to Kate. I finally reach the lobby, panting for breath. It’s a fraction lighter because there are more windows, but it’s filled with people wanting to leave.
I will never find her in this shitstorm.
I’m looking around for her golden head, but there are way too many bodies in the shadowed room to even begin to find her. My steps take me toward the lobby restroom even though I already know she won’t still be there. I burst in, the windowless space pitch-black.
“Kate.”
It echoes back to me, and even though I pray I won’t find her unresponsive, I use my phone light to search through the stalls.
When I open the last door and find it empty, I sigh. At least she’s still alive.
I rush back out, the crowd having increased in density.
I shove people aside, screaming her name above the chatter, “Kate! Kate!”
A few faces turn toward me, but none of them have her blue eyes. I see the door for the stairs on the other side of the building, opposite the ones I came down. The handle doesn’t budge. I pull again, harder this time.
“It’s jammed, buddy. No one’s been coming out that side.”
I look up at the security guard, the same one there the night Kate and I went up to get the cameras from my office. I approach him, nostrils flaring.
“What do you mean? It’s been closed since when?”
He shrugs. “All day. I got here this morning, and it wouldn’t open. Something to do with the construction going up on twenty-three, I guess.”
I note that his name tag says Ken.
“Where’s the maintenance closet?”
He leads me down the hall, weaving through the crowd buzzing with theories about what could’ve caused the outage. The door blends in with the marbled halls, but the nameplate reads Maintenance Personnel Only.
“Key?”
I try to remain calm and not scream at him to hurry as he fumbles around on his ring, finally producing the one to the closet. He opens it, and I push through the door. He follows, illuminating the space with his flashlight.
“I need a crowbar.”
He shines the light around, revealing various tools and a few mop buckets. There are some bulk toilet paper boxes, and hanging behind them is a long steel bar with a curved end. Holstering my gun, I reach for the crowbar and turn to rush back out.
“What are you planning to do, mister?”
I ignore him, making my way through the people and hooking the bar under the door. It won’t budge for a minute until Ken helps me, and we pry it open together.
Once inside, I see rows of black tactical gear cases. My vision narrows, sharpening as I take in the military grade weapons before me. Bile rises in my throat. I drop the crowbar, pulling out my handgun again.
“Ken, do you have a gun?”