We hit the second floor landing when he stopped us and shoved his phone in my hand just as he reached into his jacket at his waist and around his back where I knew he had a holster. I heard the click of him releasing the strap and he came out with a gun.
“Cal back last cal in my cal history. That’s the control room. They gotta have a status update, get it,” he ordered then his eyes slid to his father and he went on talking as I flipped open his phone and shakily found his recents screen. “Stay here with Stel a. Do not move unless I tel you to.”
I looked up to see Preston getting close to me then I looked to Mace to see him moving cautiously toward the mouth of the flight of stairs that led to the first floor.
He didn’t move cautiously back. He jerked back as gunshots went up the stairs, bul ets embedding in the ceiling. I swal owed a scream and, to stop my instinct to throw myself at my man, I pressed into the wal . Preston pressed into me. Juno pressed into me. Mace ran to a door, tried the handle, found it locked then he took a step back and slammed forward using his shoulder and the door blew open.
His eyes sliced to me. “Fol ow me, Kitten, at my back.
Close. Now.”
I moved, got close to his back feeling Juno’s fur brush my bare legs as I did as wel as feeling Preston keeping close.
Mace moved into the second floor hal and we al moved into the second floor hal . Mace shifted and we al shifted.
Mace pushed the broken door to, pul ed a narrow table from the side wal until it was blocking the door and he shifted again, moving down the hal , quickly but stealthily, head up and sweeping side to side.
We al moved with him.
I kept close to his back, my fingers shoving up under his jacket to curl into the waistband of his trousers and I looked back at the phone. I hit go on the last cal and put it to my ear.
It didn’t even ring before it was answered; there was no greeting, just a barked, “Status.”
“Um… hi,” I said. “This is Stel a.”
“Right, Stel a, status,” the man’s voice replied, not a bark this time but stil sharp, urgent and I thought it was Monty but I wasn’t sure and I didn’t give it headspace at the time because Mace moved us toward a wal , stopped and was doing hand motions to his father. I felt Preston’s fingers curl around my arm as I felt Mace’s fingers curl around my wrist to detach my hand on his slacks. Then he stared into my eyes a beat before he turned and moved back where we came.
Oh man.
I got down to business and said into the phone, “Okay, multiple grenades just blew up my apartment. We’re cut off at the backstairs. We’re in the hal on the second floor and Mace is going back toward the backstairs.”
“Stop him.”
Shitsofuckit!
“Mace, stop,” I cal ed, quiet and quick. “Monty says stop.” Mace stopped, twisted and looked at me.
“More,” I said into the phone.
Monty didn’t hesitate. “You’re surrounded. Al exits cut off. They’ve disabled the outside cameras, we tried to turn on the inside cameras but they’re off-line. Before they got to the cameras, we saw at least six of them approach and breach the house. They’re inside. First unit to the scene, ETA, five minutes. Mace needs to hole you in until backup arrives. Out.”
Without delay I relayed this information to Mace.
“Surrounded. No exit. Outside cameras disabled. Inside off-line. At least six men inside. Backup five minutes. Monty says we need to hole up.”
Mace started moving back just as more bul ets tore through the door we just went through.
When this happened, I didn’t think. I’d been shot at a lot recently and been caught unaware and therefore didn’t respond appropriately.
Not this time.
This time I dashed to the next door off the hal , opened it and raced in. Juno came with me. So did Preston. Mace fol owed, slammed the door, locked it and then turned to his father.
“Move this shit,” he ordered, circling his hand around in the air. Preston nodded and immediately father and son started moving jumbles of furniture in front of the door.
I slunk to the back of the room with Juno, crouched low, knees to chest and went back to Monty.
“We’re in, I think, the third room down to the left coming down the hal from the back. They’re on our floor.”
“Hang tight,” Monty advised.
Right. Hang tight. Great. Good advice.
Effing hel .
“Roger that, hanging tight,” I whispered, deciding against doing this with sarcasm as Mace shoved a huge, old rickety wardrobe in front of a dresser his father shoved in front of the door and I stared at the furniture noting that unfortunately none of it was made of steel.
Effing, effing, hel , hel , hell.
“Stel a, a squad is three minutes out. Another unit two minutes behind them. Luke one minute behind them. You’re good,” Monty assured.