Forced to Hide, page 16
They went to the corner and waited for the light. Adele could feel the tension coming off Brian. And Lucas, for that matter. The man casually followed, seeming to be minding his own business, but Adele could sense his alert gaze searching the buildings’ rooflines. She shuddered. Did he expect a sniper?
The light turned and they crossed the street, starting down the walkway past a building under construction. A strange noise rent the air and bits of concrete exploded near her feet, biting into her shins.
Someone was shooting at them.
“Shooter. Southwest corner of the Dunlap building.” Lucas Cavendish, aka Caveman, yelled to Brian as he raced across the street to the building entrance.
Heart pumping with adrenaline, Brian grabbed Adele, positioning her in front of him as he hustled her toward the boarded-up entrance of the building under construction to their right. At the doorway, he lifted his foot and kicked the thin planks of board inward, splintering wood and creating an opening. Bullets imbedded into the doorframe next to his head.
Ducking, he propelled Adele inside. More gunfire hit the structure, barely missing them and creating holes in the concrete floor. Brian swerved to the left, taking Adele with him and then steering her to the right as more shots penetrated the walls of the building, landing too close for comfort. There was no time for him to return fire. Brian secured Adele behind a steel beam. She flattened her back against the wide metal holding up the ceiling and wrapped her arms around his waist as he stood in front of her, his chest heaving.
“We can’t stay here,” he managed to say past the constriction tightening his lungs. “We need to move.”
“Why?” she asked. “Caveman and the other marshals will get the shooter. We just have to hold out and stay behind this beam.”
What she said sounded logical. But alarm bells rang in his head. How had the shooter known they would be using the back exit? Why hadn’t the shooter gone after the decoy? Was there another mole in the US Marshals Service?
The sound of metal against concrete came from behind him, sending a jolt of fear down his spine. He spun. Long sheets of plastic hung from the ceiling where walls once stood. He could make out the outline of commercial electrical equipment. A shadow moved. Someone was back there.
Brian grabbed his cell phone and hit the speed dial number for his boss. He held the phone to his ear and said in a hushed voice, “Active shooter. Building under construction.”
“Roger.”
Brian hung up. To the right was a set of stairs going to the second floor.
Until help arrived and he knew what was going on, he needed to secure the judge. Protecting her was paramount. Not only because of the job but because he loved her. The realization smacked him in the solar plexus. But he couldn’t deal with his revelation. He tucked it far away from his mind so he could concentrate on protecting Adele.
He slid his hands down Adele’s arms and grasped her hands. Capturing her gaze, he said, “See that staircase? When I say run, I want you to move as fast as you can. Don’t look back. I’ll be right behind you.”
Her eyes widened, but she nodded.
Satisfied she would do as he asked, he said, “On three.”
She squeezed his hand, letting him know she understood.
“One...two...three... Run!”
They ran for the stairs.
Bullets tore through the hanging plastic sheets and disintegrating drywall in explosions of white dust. The pinging of bullets chased them up the stairs. He braced himself, figuring it would be only a matter of time before he took a bullet. Better him than Adele.
He let go of Adele’s hand to enable her to move quicker. “Go.”
The sound of running feet pounded in his skull. Brian followed Adele up the stairs, taking the stairs two at a time. He put his hand at the small of Adele’s back, urging her to move faster. They reached the second-floor landing and a long hallway where many of the rooms were just skeletal beams.
He grabbed Adele’s hand. “Come on.”
They ran down the hall, searching for somewhere to hide. He didn’t want to get boxed into a closed space. But they needed shelter. Somewhere he could take a stand. The heavy footfalls of somebody coming up the stairs echoed through the under-construction building. In the distance, sirens wailed. Hope bloomed that his fellow officers would arrive soon.
A singsong voice rang out, “I know you’re in here. You can’t get away. You won’t get away.”
Adele gasped, her breath coming fast. Her hand shook within his grasp. He pulled her behind a partition and gripped her by the shoulders. “Stay strong. Don’t give in to the panic. Not yet.”
She nodded, her whole-body quaking with the effort to control her anxiety. He reached into his ankle holster and produced a .32-caliber handgun, thrusting the small piece into her hands.
She recoiled, but he wrapped his hands around hers, keeping the muzzle down.
“Keep your finger off the trigger unless you’re going to fire,” he told her in a hushed tone. “But I want you to be equipped to defend yourself if I’m not able to.”
Horror shone bright in her wide eyes. “Don’t say that. Don’t you dare–”
Her concern for him wrapped around his heart. He dipped his head for a quick, deep kiss. He didn’t have time to relish the sensations or to acknowledge that she kissed him back. They had to keep moving, staying stationary could get them killed. He didn’t want to die. And he wouldn’t let her die. He sent a prayer heavenward for safety.
There was another staircase directly opposite them. But if they ran across the hall, their pursuer could pick them off. A concrete saw caught his attention.
He leaned in close to Adele and whispered in her ear, “When I say run, you go up the staircase.”
“What are you going to do?” she whispered back.
“Create a diversion.” He turned her to face the staircase. “Remember. When I say run. Don’t hesitate. I’ll be right behind you.”
He moved away from her, grabbed the concrete saw and stretched it out as far as the extension cord would go. He moved past the point where Adele stood hidden by a partition. They locked eyes. He gave a nod. Her trusting wide-eyed stare had his heart rate doubling.
He flipped on the power switch and the high-pitched whine of the saw filled the cavernous building. He couldn’t hear the gunman now. Holding the saw at arm’s length, his muscles bunched at the vibration of the blade rattling up his arm. On a breath, he set the saw on the ground and stepped back as the tool ate away at the concrete with a horrific grating noise that jarred through him and set his teeth on edge.
Bullets whizzed by his head. He dove to the side, rolled and shouted, “Run!”
He prayed Adele heard him over the sound of the concrete saw cutting away at the floor, spitting bits of debris and dust into the air. Brian drew his Glock and rolled to land behind a beam. He brought his gun up at the ready. On a breath, he peered around the metal beam. He could see the gunman. Dark tactical gear covered his body. A face mask and military combat helmet covered his head. Definitely military or mercenary. Like the men who’d assaulted the lake house. Hired guns. But who was the one behind the attacks?
The gunman raised his automatic rifle and sprayed bullets at Brian. Ducking back behind the beam, Brian flattened himself on the ground and returned fire, shooting the gunman in the shin. The man went down, bullets spraying the ceiling as he fell. Brian hopped to all fours. He didn’t debate whether he should subdue the gunman or go after Adele. Her safety was his priority.
Brian jumped to his feet and checked the partition. He was glad to see she had heard him. He ran for the stairs as more bullets whizzed past him. He glanced over his shoulder. For a moment, he thought maybe he had double vision. He saw double. Two gunmen. One helping the other to his feet. He’d made the right call in not subduing the gunman because his cohort would have caught Brian by surprise and finished him off.
Brian took the stairs two at a time while using his cell phone. “Two gunmen. One suspect wounded but not disabled. Asset on third floor.”
Static echoed in his ear then his boss’s voice came on the line. “On the way. ETA two min.”
On the third-floor landing, Brian skidded to a halt. The remodeling hadn’t reached this area. Closed doors lined both sides of the hallway. Brian pushed open the first door. The office space was empty. He moved to the next one. Also empty. He hurriedly moved down the hall, checking each room. The fifth door opened to a dark room filled with office furniture.
“Adele?” he whispered.
“Brian?” Her voice came from behind a large credenza.
Brian entered and quietly shut the door. He hurried across the room and peered around the side of the credenza. Adele was squatted, the .32 in her hands.
“Muzzle down,” he told her.
She angled the barrel at the floor. “Is it safe?”
“No.” He held out his hand. “We need to get out of here. We’ll be sitting ducks if we stay.”
The sound of doors being opened alerted Brian that it was too late. If they left the room now, it would be too easy for the gunmen to take them out. They needed to make a stand until backup arrived.
“Back to the credenza,” he told Adele.
She shuffled backward, making herself small behind the credenza. He went around to the other side and lifted the credenza up, swinging it out to accommodate his bulk. He set the piece of furniture gently down and hunkered behind it, too.
Into his phone he said, “Trapped on third floor. Fifth room from stairs.” He turned the phone off. He could only pray with all his might that his fellow US marshals would arrive before it was too late.
* * *
Cold shivers of fear ravaged Adele’s body. How had the sniper escaped from Deputy Cavendish? Was the deputy in on it?
She was glad she had left Scout with the receptionist at the US Marshals Service. If something happened to him... If something happened to Brian...
She took a shuddering breath, doing all she could to keep the anxiety from overwhelming her. Nausea roiled in her gut. The ambient light sneaking around the boarded-up windows seemed to fade to a pinpoint with fuzzy edges. She was going to faint. She tucked her head between her knees and took deep breaths. Brian’s hand settled on her back, soothing up and down.
In her ear he whispered, “Breathe. When they come through that door, just stay down. If one of them approaches from your side, shoot. It doesn’t matter where you aim. Just shoot, until there are no more bullets.”
If he was trying to calm her down, his words were doing the exact opposite. She’d never fired a gun before. She’d never been in a situation like this before, either.
Inhaling, she rallied a prayer, asking God to protect them. To get them out of this predicament.
FIFTEEN
The door to the room burst open, slamming back against the wall. Adele jumped and stifled a yelp.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” a deep masculine voice coaxed.
“Stop playing,” the other gunman admonished his partner. “We need to get in and get out.”
“Come on, it’s more fun this way,” the first man said. “I like to see them sweat.”
“You’re sick, bro.”
“No more than you.”
The men’s voices sounded like they were closing in. Adele raised her gun, holding it in front of her. But would the men come around the side? Or would they come from above. She pressed herself against the wall, steadying her hands.
Deep within the building, the sounds of agents arriving was a welcomed echo bouncing off the walls. There were shouted orders. The thunder of pounding feet coming up the stairs.
“Bro, we got to go.”
“We finish this,” the man with the deep voice said in a harsh tone.
Adele held her breath.
“Are you crazy? I’m out of here.”
In the next instant, Brian jumped up, squeezing the trigger on his weapon, the deafening sound reverberating off the walls and jolting through Adele. She cringed, trying to get away from the noise of violence. She heard thuds.
Then she heard voices.
“Halt! Drop your weapons!” Marshal Gavin Armstrong’s voice rang out.
“Securing suspect number one.” Jace’s voice reached Adele and she sagged in relief.
“Suspect number two secure.” Sera’s voice held a hard edge.
Brian placed his hand on her shoulder. “It’s safe now.”
He reached around her and took his gun back. She was thankful to be done holding the weapon.
He moved to help her to her feet. She swayed and he snaked an arm around her waist, providing her an anchor. Her vision swam. She watched the US marshals drag the two gunmen to their feet.
“You okay?” Gavin asked.
“We’re good, boss,” Brian told him.
“Sorry for the delay,” Gavin said. “The sniper had the building rigged with explosives. It was a tense scene and delayed our response time.”
“I understand.” The welfare of innocents had to be considered.
Jace ripped the helmet off the gunman and exposed his face.
Adele stared at the man. “Brian, he looks like an older version of Richard’s brother. The ones from the picture in the Overstreet house.”
Sera removed the face covering from the second shooter.
Astonishment cascaded through Adele. Twins. Did Irene Overstreet know her son wasn’t dead? Was she aware of what they were doing, trying to kill Adele to keep her from testifying at Richard’s parole hearing?
“Apparently, Irene Overstreet was wrong. Her son wasn’t dead, after all,” Brian murmured. “Let’s get out of here.”
Brian held on to Adele, giving her support as they made their way to street level. She blinked her eyes at the bright sunlight. She looked across the parking lot to where Lucas had another man in tactical gear handcuffed.
Obviously, the Overstreet brothers had hired another shooter.
Adele was glad to know her earlier fear that “Caveman” Cavendish might be one of the gunmen was unfounded. She let out a relieved breath.
Brian cupped her elbow and started across the street, back toward the US marshals’ building.
“No,” she said, breaking away from him. “I need to get to the federal building. These men tried to stop me from testifying. I’m not going to let them succeed.”
Brian paused. “You’re sure you’re up for going in front of the parole board?”
“I am,” she said. It was time to face her past and put it behind her. She’d learned long ago that avoiding painful situations only led to more pain.
“Okay. You’re the boss,” Brian said with a grin.
She smiled, thinking not too long ago he’d said she wasn’t the boss of him. So much had happened since that day.
He pulled out his phone. “I’ll let Gavin know.” He dialed and then spoke into the phone. “I need to get the judge over to the federal building.” He listened then said, “Much obliged.” He hung up. “Gavin and Jace will head over after they process the Overstreet brothers and their pal.”
Gratitude filled Adele. She smiled up at Brian. “Thank you.”
“Of course.” Putting his hand on the small of her back, he guided her along the sidewalk, and they hurried to the entrance of the federal building.
At the metal detectors, Brian showed his badge and was let through. Since she didn’t have a badge, she had to remove the belt from her waist, the bobby pins from her hair and the US marshals’ ball cap she’d been given. Once she was cleared, she tucked the bobby pins into the pocket of the pants, deciding it didn’t matter if she had strands of hair escaping the cap, which she put back on her head because her hair was undoubtedly a mess. They took the stairs to the hearing room on the second floor.
Adele’s steps slowed as Senator John Ortega came into view, along with his security detail comprised of three men in black suits.
She locked stares with John.
His brown eyes grew wide and he hurried toward them. He was impeccably dressed, as always, in a charcoal pinstripe suit, white dress shirt and red power tie. “Adele, what are you doing here?” His gaze bounced to Brian. “Deputy, explain yourself.”
Beside her, Brian stiffened. “The judge is testifying in a parole hearing.”
Something flashed deep in John’s eyes, but he quickly banked what Adele could only describe as anger mixed with confusion. “I don’t understand. What case could you be testifying to today?”
“Richard Overstreet’s parole hearing,” she told him.
John’s expression went blank. “I didn’t know you were involved in this case.”
“Really?” All he’d had to do was to read the case file to know that she was Overstreet’s victim. A flutter of anxiety started low in her belly. “What are you doing here?”
John looked at Brian and then back to Adele with a frown. “I am here on behalf of a friend.”
“What friend?” Brian asked, his voice hard.
The senator’s gaze narrowed. “That is my business.”
Brian’s phone rang. He checked the caller ID. “It’s Sera.” He turned to Adele. “Stay put.” He took a couple of steps away to talk to his colleague.
John turned to Adele. “Are you all right? You’ve a smudge on your face. And why are you wearing a US Marshals’ windbreaker and hat?”
Suddenly self-conscious, she touched the brim of the cap. She’d forgotten she wore the thing.
“There’s a restroom there,” John said, pointing to the women’s room. “Why don’t you freshen up?”
Adele’s gaze shot to Brian. She gestured toward the bathroom. He nodded.
