The two men pulling Silas into the hall dropped him to fumble for their dart guns. The third man got a shot off, and she deflected it, howling as she front-kicked his middle, then spun to hit the side of his face with her boot as he conveniently dropped it down within easy reach. His weapon was there for the taking, and Peri yanked it from his slack grasp, dropping to the floor to avoid the volley of darts.
One scored on her coat, and she left it there as she shot at them. They both jumped for the doorway, falling over Silas and out into the hall.
“I’m trying to help!” Allen shouted, hands upraised.
“Yeah, right,” she said, then threw the gun to Silas. He caught it like a field agent, and she smiled, eyes fixed on Allen’s as there was a sudden commotion in the hallway, then silence.
“And don’t come back!” Silas shouted, making her smile even wider.
“How did you find me?” Peri asked, watching the man who’d tried to shoot her as she moved closer to Allen—and Allen backed up, hands upraised and eyes wide under his curly black hair. His long face was even longer in alarm. “How?” she barked.
Silas found his feet and leaned heavily against the doorframe. “We have to go,” he panted.
She held out her hand, and he threw the gun back. Allen moved while it was in the air, and she went after him instead, letting the gun hit the floor.
“You lied to me!” she exclaimed, arm going numb as Allen blocked her punch.
“Just … listen,” Allen pleaded, and she planted a vicious side kick on his knee.
Mouth open in a silent cry, he went down, clutching it. Peri back-kicked the guard grasping for the dart gun, then she reached for Allen’s arm as he shakily went for whatever was in his belt holster.
“No one lies to me,” she snarled, and broke his fingers. At least three.
Allen crumpled, white-faced and staring at her in shock as he cradled his hand close.
“We have to go,” Silas said. “Now.”
Peri hauled Allen up by his shirtfront and pushed him against the bed. “I couldn’t have killed Jack,” she said, shaking inside. “I loved him.”
“Peri …,” Silas breathed from the doorway. “Please.”
She spun away, adrenaline pounding through her as she kicked the dart gun farther from the guard. Snatching up Silas’s coat, she tucked a shoulder under his armpit. They staggered into the hallway and the door shut behind them with an absurd click.
Damn it, I forgot my pen. Peri took a breath—looked one way, then the other. Silas was heavy, and they had a long way to go. “That’ll work,” she said, leading him to the rolling table. She went to push everything off it, and Silas snatched a frosted glass just before it hit the edge. She felt sick as dishes crashed to the floor. A door down the hall opened, then quickly shut.
“You’re hungry,” he breathed, clearly hurting as he carefully levered himself onto the table. “God bless it, what are they putting in their darts? Here. Drink it in the elevator.”
“Thanks.” Peri got the cart moving. “Please tell me you have your wallet.”
“Yep.” His head was bowed, one hand on his middle, the other clutching his coat.
The wind from their passage shifted her hair. She felt good, even with the ache of Jack in her. She was doing something and she wasn’t alone. “Did I draft?”
“Nope.” He looked up, sweat on his brow. “You’re kind of scary, you know that?”
Peri felt a twist in her, part heartache, part unknown. “Saving her anchor’s ass is what a drafter does,” she said. “It sort of makes up for the coffee-in-the-morning thing.”
He laughed, choking it off when his face pinched in pain. Peri’s smile faded.
Jack …
CHAPTER
FIFTEEN
Charlotte’s premier mall had an astounding amount of weekend traffic. The food court was just inside the two-story-tall window entry, and Peri liked that she could watch the main entrance and the central convergence of the three wings at the same time. And whereas Peri would’ve preferred a quieter spot to get lost in while they regrouped, there was food and potentially some clothes. She’d told Silas he was a genius for suggesting it even though the thought to go to the mall had occurred to her, too.
No need to tell him that, though. Not after he’d bought her dinner. Watching his thick fingers spin through the at-table ordering pad with the dexterity of a fourteen-year-old had more than surprised her. The way he’d flirted with the server on skates bringing it out had set her back. Even the simply prepared but flavorful rice and fish he’d ordered had gone a long way toward reassuring her that she was not going to die today.