“She’s dead, Caro.” He scanned the crowd as they wove through it, dragging her alongside him. As soon as they were clear, he gave her a hard push. “Go!”
His command worked like the crack of a starting gun. Caro dashed in a frenzied sprint on a zig-zag course through streets, alleys, parking lots. He herded her behind one of the bigger buildings under renovation. Scaffolding was still up. It was a mess. Dumpsters heaped with trash, piles of bricks and rebar.
Noah stopped short, and shoved her back into a narrow space between two parked trucks until her back hit rough brick. He cupped her face in his hands and gave her a swift, hard kiss. “Stay here. Right here.”
She gasped for breath. “But what are you going to—”
“Shhhh. Not a word. Don’t move.” He pressed her back against the bricks, and darted back the way they had come.
She was locked into place for a confused moment. Then she heard the slap of running feet getting closer. She scrambled behind the trucks and eased her way forward along the wall so she could see what was happening.
She heard a heavy thud, a startled yell. Gasps, grunts. Cursing, punctuated by slapping sounds. A harsh, chopped-off shout. The guy had attacked Noah.
She crouched down and saw a second guy’s feet flash by. Still more pounding footsteps were getting closer.
Three to one? Fuck that. She had to help him. Now.
Various lengths of rusty rebar were scattered on the ground. Some lay across the path between the trucks and the dumpsters. She grabbed the end of the longest piece of rebar she could see with one hand, and a brick with the other. Just as the running footsteps and panting breaths got louder, she jerked the rebar up—
Yes. The guy tripped. Went flying with a shout and hit the ground hard.
Caro pounced on him, screaming as she swung the brick she held downward.
Her opponent twisted, blocked her blow so that the brick glanced off the side of his head, but he still roared in pain. Caro whipped back to avoid his punch—
A rush of air moving, a blur of rapid motion. She was lifted. Tossed to the side.
Noah kicked the guy’s face. The whipping sound, air moving, flashes of color. His moves were too fast for her eyes to register. He yanked the guy’s arm, wrenched his knee sideways, slammed a fist down on his chest.
The guy lay still, his face a mask of blood below the nose. Arm and leg bent at impossible angles. Out cold.
Caro stared up. Noah didn’t even look rumpled. A glance behind her revealed that the other two attackers lay on the ground, in the same condition.
Noah grabbed her wrist and lifted her up to her feet. “You were supposed to stay put,” he said with disapproval.
“I haven’t survived these past few months by doing what I was told,” she said.
She barely caught his appreciative grin just before he grabbed her hand and pulled her into a stumbling run. “Let’s move.”
“Yeah,” she coughed out.
They spotted a back door that opened onto a loading bay and ran inside. An exit sign pointed them toward a stairwell, which led down into a basement corridor with a low ceiling hidden by insulated pipes.
Caro barely kept pace with his long, purposeful strides, held up by the arm around her waist. It was like being swept along by a powerful storm wind. One which knew exactly where it was going.
They came to the battered doors of a freight elevator. Noah jabbed the button and dragged her into his arms while they waited, hugging her fiercely. His heart thundered against her ear. He threw off so much heat. It was life-giving.
She tried not to see it, but now that they weren’t in frantic motion, the loop in her head started to play. Bea, catapulted into the air. Bea crumpled, bleeding and silent. She pressed her face to his chest.
His arms tightened. “You OK?” he asked.
“Fine,” she said fiercely against his jacket.
He grunted, unconvinced, but the doors were sliding open. Into the elevator. Up another level. She followed where he led and tried not to stumble. At some point, they were outside again, running through an icy drizzle that gave her goosebumps.
He came to an abrupt halt, and she heard the thunk of the car locks opening. He opened the Porsche’s door and helped her in. “Seat belt,” he directed.
She fumbled with it clumsily as he got into the drivers’ side.
He clicked his own seatbelt into place as he he started the motor. She noticed the dark wet splatter on his jacket sleeve as the car surged into the street. “Noah, you’re bleeding!”
“Not my blood,” he assured her.
She sagged back, relieved. “How the hell did you do that?”
His elusive smile showed. “No big deal. There were only three of them.”
“Only three . . . ?” Her voice cracked, failed her. Only three, her ass.
After a moment, she tried again. “So, were you some kind of commando once? Is that where you got the scars?”
“You don’t get to ask questions right now. I’m taking you home. And you’re coming clean with me.”