“It’s going to be okay,” I told her. “I’m here.” I stroked her cheek with my thumb and she nodded, but her breathing was dangerously fast.
Brannon tried his radio again. “I still can’t raise anyone. We can’t call for backup.” He was close to panicking. The poor guy didn’t have the experience of Harlan or Miller—he’d probably never seen action before.
Gunfire echoed down the hallway we’d just come through. This time, there were answering shots from the three men Brannon had left behind. But they were outnumbered and outgunned: I remembered the assault rifles I’d seen at the warehouse. Almost immediately, we heard a cry and one of the three handguns stopped firing. Shit. Brannon looked at me in fear. I had to take charge.
“Stairs,” I said, pointing. “We go up to the second floor.”
“We’ll be trapped up there!” said Brannon uncertainly. I could see him going through his Secret Service rulebook in his head—nothing had prepared him for this.
“We’re trapped now!” I snarled at him.
We heard a body hit the floor in the hallway. The gunfire was getting closer. It sounded like there was only one Secret Service agent left firing, now.
“Okay,” said Brannon. “Upstairs.” He started walking the President that way. I hadn’t waited to be told: I already had Emily by the hand and was halfway to the staircase.
That was when the grenade went off.
Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Emily and I already passed the door that led onward through the museum but the others were right in front of it. The gunmen must have rolled the grenade right up to the doors because they exploded inward in a shower of burnt wood fragments and gray smoke. Almost immediately, gunfire erupted from the smoking doorway. One Secret Service agent went down instantly while the others dived for cover. Brannon pulled the President towards a pillar. I grabbed Emily and pulled her into the shadows beneath the huge marble staircase. We were out of sight, there, relatively safe... but the others weren’t.
The Secret Service agents returned fire but there were only three of them left, now. Just as Brannon got the President behind a pillar, the other door was kicked in... and now they were taking fire from both sides. Another agent went down. Now only Brannon and one other agent protected the President.
“Oh Jesus,” whispered Emily. She tried to rise from our hiding place. I hauled her grimly back down.
There was nowhere for the others to run but they couldn’t stay where they were. They made a last ditch sprint for safety, hustling the President towards an information desk that would provide some cover, but as soon as they came out from behind the pillar, both groups of gunmen opened fire. I held my breath, willing the President forward. Back in college, he’d been a quarterback and he was still fit for his age. Twenty paces would get him to safety. Ten. Five—
A bullet hit him in the chest and spun him around, tearing him from Brannon’s grip. He slumped to the ground as scarlet spread across his white shirt.
Kian
Next to me, Emily opened her mouth to scream. I clamped a hand hard over her mouth and used my other arm to hold her against me so she couldn’t run to him.
Brannon and the other agent dragged the President behind the information desk, sat him up against it and used the desk as cover, returning fire from behind it. The three of them were only thirty feet or so away from us, but it was thirty feet of deadly open space. We’d be dead in a heartbeat if we tried to cross it.
The President was still breathing but his cheeks were going pale and he had both hands clutched to the gunshot wound in his chest. He turned his head and looked right at me. Something passed between us. Not just President to bodyguard: father to son.
He knew about Emily and me.
The gunfire stopped for a second as the gunmen started to advance towards the desk. The President’s voice was raspy and weak, but it hadn’t lost an ounce of authority. “Get my daughter out of here,” he croaked.
I nodded and turned to Emily. She was staring at her dad, barely breathing—she was in shock, or something close to it.
We were still hiding under the stairs. To climb up them, we’d have to wait until the gunmen passed us on their way to the President and then crawl along the length of the room, right out in the open, to reach the bottom of the staircase. We’d have no cover. Our only protection would be that the gunmen would have their backs to us.
I waited until the gunmen passed by us, counting eight of them, all with assault rifles. I took another look at Emily and my guts twisted—she was still almost frozen with fear, just as she’d been in the park. It looked like whatever progress I’d helped her make had been destroyed. I’d just have to pray that she was lucid enough to follow my lead. I held my finger to my lips, pointed to where we needed to go, and waited until she nodded. Then I took a deep breath and started crawling, pushing Emily ahead of me.
There’s a feeling you get, when you turn your back on something dangerous. It’s your body’s alarm system, its way of telling you this is a very, very bad idea. Doesn’t matter if it’s an enemy soldier, a vicious dog or a schoolyard bully: the hairs on the back of your neck stand up and your whole body tenses, waiting for the sound of the shot or the teeth sinking into your leg or the words that are going to make you feel like shit for the rest of the day.
It was like that but a million times worse. Eight men were behind us, all with weapons that could kill us in a heartbeat. We wouldn’t even have time to react as the bullets tore into us.
If we made a sound, we were dead.
If one of them turned around, we were dead.
If Emily froze up and we got stuck out in the open, we were dead.
We started to crawl, keeping as tight to the staircase as we could, our left shoulders almost brushing it. Shell casings littered the floor and the air was thick with acrid smoke. Emily was just a few steps in front of me: she’d crawl a few steps and then hesitate and I’d have to nudge her foot before she’d continue.
The marble floor was glossy and cool under our hands but my palms were slick with sweat. I’d never been more aware of the spot between my shoulder blades: that’s where a bullet would slam into me, any... second... now—
Behind us, I could hear the gunmen edging across the floor towards the information desk. Now and again, a shot would ring out and I’d see Emily flinch. From what I could tell, Brannon and the other agent were firing blind over the top of the desk, trying to hold the gunmen back without showing themselves. It would slow them down, but it wouldn’t work forever.
I almost ran straight into Emily. She’d stopped dead in front of me and, when I craned to look around her, I saw why.
One of the agents who’d been shot was lying on the ground right beside her. The poor bastard was still alive, just barely, and he was terrified. Help me, he mouthed to Emily. Please! She stared back at him, aghast.
I checked over my shoulder. No one was looking in our direction but, the way the gunmen were advancing, we probably had less than a minute before they reached the desk and killed the President. Then they’d turn around and see us. We had to move.
I nudged Emily’s foot. She shook her head, staring at the stricken agent, silent tears starting to fall from her eyes.
I reached forward, gripped her ankle and squeezed. I know, I thought, praying she understood. But we can’t help him..
I saw her throat move as she swallowed.
She lifted one hand... and moved forward, her hand almost touching the stricken agent. She stayed there for a second, her breathing heavy, and I worried she was about to lose it. But then she lifted the other hand and took another step forward, then another and another. I followed behind her, staying as close as I could. By the time I passed the agent, he was dead.
Seconds later, we came to the bottom of the stairs. I steered Emily around the handrail and then onto the stairs. Now, finally, we were out of sight as long as we stayed low. We crawled up to the second floor.
I didn’t stop until we’d
passed under an archway and into the next room. Only then did I help Emily to her feet and hug her. Then I grabbed her hand and started to pull her on through the museum. I wanted to put as much distance as I could between us and the gunmen, then try to find a fire escape—
I jerked to a stop. When I turned, I found Emily was rooted to the spot. Shit. She’d frozen. Between the gunfire, seeing her dad shot and then that crawl through hell, she’d finally slipped into full-on catatonia—
“No,” she said in a low voice.
I blinked and searched her face. Her gaze was focused and there was a grim fire in her eyes I’d barely seen since before the attack in the park. She hadn’t freaked out. She’d been damn close, downstairs, but she’d somehow pulled through it. She was fighting back against the fear, harder than I would have thought anyone could. “What?” I asked, stunned.
“No,” she repeated. “We’re not leaving him.”
She glanced over her shoulder towards the stairs. Towards her dad.
I shook my head. “We can’t. Emily, we can’t. I have to get you out of here.”
The tears were rolling down her cheeks but it wasn’t hysteria: it was anger. “That is my father down there!”
I looked between her and the stairs, torn. Shit!
“That is the President of the United States of America,” she managed through her tears. “You are sworn to protect him!”
I felt it all welling up inside me: everything I’d turned my back on when I left the Secret Service. Everything that President Matthews had made me feel again, in the short time I’d known him. But the need to protect Emily... that overrode everything. I made a decision and shook my head, yanking hard on her arm. “I’m saving you.”
But she tore her hand out of my grip, choking out the words through her sobs. “It doesn’t—It doesn’t matter about us. If he dies, it all comes down. Kerrigan will be President.” She pulled her hand tight against her chest so that I couldn’t grab it. “I am not leaving him!”
We glared at each other. Goddamn her! Goddamn her for being a better person than any of these asshole politicians.
Goddamn her for being right.
I stepped close to her. “Emily... Kerrigan knows you know. Those men... they’re not just here to kill your dad. They probably have orders to kill you, or take you and interrogate you.”
She nodded, gulping back tears. “I know.”
“We can slip away if we go right now. But if I do this, they’ll know where we are.”
She took a deep, shuddering breath. “I know.” She looked me in the eye. “Please, Kian.”
I closed my eyes for a second... and nodded. “Stay here,” I said. “And be ready to run.”
She nodded quickly. I crept back through the archway and over to the balcony that overlooked the first floor.
Almost directly below me, the President was still sheltered behind the information desk, clutching his chest. For a second, I wasn’t sure if he was alive, but then I saw him glance across at Brannon.
Brannon and the other agent were crouched either side of the President, firing at the approaching gunmen. They’d killed two of them and managed to slow their progress but the men were sneaking ever-closer, three of them approaching down the left side of the room and three down the right. It was only a matter of time.
I checked my gun. Not for the first time, I wished I had my old one instead of the tiny one Miller had insisted I use. I took a deep breath... and started shooting.
The first one was easy—they weren’t expecting shots to come from above. I managed to take out one and was lining up the second before they’d even reacted. The second one went down and now they saw what was going on and started to fire up at the balcony. Chips of marble exploded a foot from my face.
I ducked back down, crawled to the side and sprang up again. A bullet flew an inch past my face and smacked into the wall behind me. I shot again... and a third gunman went down.
“Go!” I yelled to Brannon. “Go, I’ll cover you!”
He didn’t need telling twice. He threw the President over his shoulders and ran, the other agent and me firing to cover him. A second later, they were through the door and heading back towards the side entrance and the motorcade. I kept firing until my gun clicked empty, giving them as much time as I could... and then I turned and ran. Before I’d even made it off the balcony, I could hear feet pounding up the stairs behind me.
“What do we do?” panted Emily as I grabbed her hand and dragged her deeper into the museum.
“Run.”
Emily
Running in heels is almost impossible. Every step meant rolling the dice: would I go sideways on my ankle, would my heel snap off and send me tumbling? Twice, I nearly fell and only Kian’s grip on my hand stopped me smacking into the floor. I thought about taking off my shoes, but the floors were polished marble, incredibly slippery, and running on them in nylons would be just as hard.
The lights were off on this floor—everything was meant to be shut down for the night except for the speech downstairs. Luckily, there was enough moonlight shining down through the skylights above to see by. We sprinted through a fossil exhibition, threading our way between glass cases, then underneath a huge skeleton of a blue whale. The moonlight turned the floor into zebra stripes as it shone through the beast’s massive ribs.
Kian pulled on my hand, slowing me. We stopped to listen and to get our breath back. And as soon as I stopped, it all started to sink in.
“I should have figured it out sooner,” I panted. “I’m so stupid! Of course he’d assassinate my dad: it fast-tracks him to the Presidency. I just never thought he’d go that far.”
“We did figure it out,” said Kian, putting a hand on my arm. “We warned him.”
“But not in time!” The reality of it washed over me and I wanted to throw up. “What if he’s dead? What if he’s already dead?”
He stepped closer and put his hands on my cheeks. The warmth of his palms soaked into me. “Hey! Hey! If we hadn’t figured it out, he wouldn’t have had any warning at all. He’s a tough old guy. He’ll make it. And the only person to blame is Kerrigan.” I sniffed and wiped my eyes. He waited until I looked at him again. “Okay?” he asked.
I nodded reluctantly.
Footsteps behind us. The glare of torchlight. Kian grabbed my arm and pulled me forward, past displays of stuffed alligators and bison and then to the staircase that led up to the third floor. We crept up the stairs and then waited in the shadows at the top to see if they’d follow. A few moments later, the torches went past and we both slumped in relief. But just minutes later, they reappeared and footsteps started to climb the stairs.
We looked at each other. We both knew what that meant: they were going to keep searching the whole building until they found me. Why weren’t they in more of a hurry? Surely the police must be screaming to the scene along with more Secret Service? But the streets outside sounded quiet.
I didn’t have time to work it out: Kian was leading me on through the third floor, sprinting through exhibits on coral, plants and insects. When we slowed down again, we were moving through something called Treasures of the Earth: rare gemstones and minerals displayed on silk cushions inside glass cases, the moonlight lighting us up with little points of light as it reflected off all the polished, glittering surfaces. Halfway across the huge room, Kian stopped and pulled me down behind one of the cases.
“We’re not going to be able to outrun them,” he said quietly. “And they’ll have blocked the exits by now. They’ll keep hunting us until we run out of places to go... and when they catch us, I’m out of ammo. We need to turn this around. I need to hit some fucker and take his gun—then we can fight our way out.”
My guts twisted in fear. I had a horrible feeling I knew what he was going to say next.
He took a deep breath. “I need to leave you for a bit.”
“No!”
“Just for a minute. You’ll be safe here. I’m going to circle back and am
bush one of them when they come through here, then I’ll come straight back.”
“No!” I knew I sounded like a petulant child but I didn’t care. The fear was suddenly rising, engulfing me, already up to my chin and threatening to pour into my mouth and drown me. He promised! He said he wouldn’t leave me!
He pulled me close and I flung my arms around him, his big body so strong, so comforting. The fear receded a little, but I knew it would only last as long as I was with him. As long as I clung to him, as long as I pressed my face against his chest and closed my eyes, it felt as if I was protected from all the evil in the world.
“I’m going to be right in the same room,” he whispered in my ear. “But I’ve got to do this. Okay?”
I took a deep breath and steeled myself... then slowly released him. He leaned in and kissed me on the lips. Then he was away, jogging silently back the way we’d come. I craned around the display case, trying to keep him in view, but within seconds he was lost in the shadows. A moment after that, I heard the footsteps of someone entering the room.
I pulled back behind the display case, sitting with my back pressed up against it. For the next few minutes, all I had to go on were the sounds behind me.
I heard heavy boots creeping closer. Just one man—they must have split up to search the museum. The footsteps seemed to die away in the distance... and then turned and came directly towards me. I hugged my knees, trying to make myself as small as possible. The footsteps came closer, entering the Treasures of the Earth exhibition. Where’s Kian? Has something gone wrong?
They came closer still. I could hear the rustle of the man’s clothing, now. Something’s gone wrong. The fear rose up, the darkness giving it power, paranoia filling my brain like chilling fog. He’s left me. I’m all alone.
Closer. I could hear his breathing. Every hair on the back of my neck was standing up.
Closer. Shit!
I heard two very quick, almost silent steps and then the sound of a punch and one heavy body hitting another. Grunting. Panting. Two more punches. I closed my eyes tight—
Saving Liberty (Kissing #6) Page 17