Footfalls sounded outside the door. Struggling to control her breathing, Lily sidled around the desk and bumped into a chair. The sound seemed thunderous in the small room. Had he heard her? Pushing the chair back, she knelt and crawled beneath the desk. She was in the process of pulling the chair into the kneehole when the door swung open.
Lily stopped breathing. Her heart pounded so loud she feared it might give away her position. Squeezing her eyes closed, she put her hand over her mouth to stifle the scream creeping up her throat. She could hear her breaths rushing through her nose and prayed the man with the gun didn’t hear her.
Seconds passed like hours. Light slashed through the darkness, and she realized the man had a flashlight. The only thing separating her from certain discovery was the desk’s modesty panel. The beam swept left and right. Lily glanced at the floor, saw the toes of wing-tip shoes inches from where she crouched. He stood less than a foot away from her, so close she could hear him breathing.
After what seemed like an eternity, he cursed and stepped back. She heard his shoes shuffle against the floor. The beam made a final sweep of the room then winked out behind the closing door.
Relief brought tears to her eyes, but she didn’t make a sound. She remained unmoving for several minutes. When she could stand it no longer, she silently pushed the chair from the kneehole and crawled out. Her legs tingled from lack of circulation, but she barely noticed the discomfort. She was just glad to be alive.
Intent on finding Chase to warn him, she tiptoed to the door and opened it an inch. Two inches. She peered into the hall, relief sliding through her when she found it empty. Silently closing the door, she pressed her back to it and tried to get a grip on the fear. Had the men gone? Was it safe to venture from the room? Where was Chase?
She’d decided to wait a few more minutes just to be sure the man was gone when suddenly the doorknob squeaked. She darted back, paralyzed with terror as the door swung open. Horror swept through her at the sight of the gunman. His face was a pale oval in the darkness. She saw the pistol in his right hand, the flashlight in his left.
“You think I’m stupid?” he snarled.
A scream poured from her throat. Lily turned to run, but in the tiny office, there was no place to go. She was trapped with a monster bent on killing her. Looking around for a weapon, anything she could use to protect herself, she spied the letter opener on the desk and snatched it up.
“Get away from me!” she screamed.
The gun came up. Realizing she couldn’t get close enough to use the letter opener, she threw it with all her might, hoping to strike him in the face. But he deflected it, and the letter opener clattered to the floor.
“Stop or I’ll put a hole in you,” he said.
Lily sprinted toward the window. Behind her, a gunshot exploded. Willing to risk getting cut to pieces as opposed to facing the gunman, she set her hand against her abdomen and hurled herself through the glass.
Chapter Four
From the men’s room, Chase heard the gunshot. The sons of bitches had found them. Found Lily. Terror like he’d never felt before slammed into him at the thought of her being hurt—or worse.
All because of you, hotshot.
“Not gonna happen,” he ground out.
A split second and he was out the door, rushing down the hall. In the semidarkness he saw the office door ajar. It had been closed when he’d walked by just a few minutes earlier.
The sound of shattering glass exploded. Beyond the point of considering his own safety, he burst into the room. A man stood with his back to the door, looking out a broken window, a pistol in his right hand.
Fury overtook Chase. He didn’t think, didn’t hesitate. He charged. The man spun just as Chase struck him with the full force of his body weight, slamming him against the wall. Breath rushed from the man’s lungs in an animalistic roar.
Chase caught a glimpse of the gun. Rage that this bastard would hurt a pregnant woman—his woman—sent his fist flying. His knuckles crashed into the man’s cheek, and Chase heard bone crunching. Pain shot from his hand to his elbow, but he was too enraged to pay it any mind. Even as he drew back a second time, all he could think of was Lily. Had she been shot? Cut by glass from the broken window?
The next thing Chase knew, the man was lying on the floor, unconscious. Through the window he saw Lily, and his heart raged in his chest. Oh dear God, let her be all right, he prayed. Quickly, he stooped and snatched up the man’s pistol and shoved it into the waistband of his slacks. He yanked the man’s wallet from his pocket, dropped it into his own. Next came the cell phone, which he clipped onto his belt.
Movement at the door arrested his attention. Chase spun, brought up the gun. His arm shook when he took aim, expecting another gunman. But it was only the man who ran the shelter.
The man’s mouth opened but no sound emerged.
“Sorry, old man.” Chase lowered the gun. “Thought you were someone else.”
The old man gestured toward the broken window and scolded him in Chinese.