by Kaylea Cross
Her eyes were glued to him in the midst of that carnage when he ran out of ammo. He flung the now useless rifle away and reached over his shoulder for the second, then suddenly jerked and Khalia knew he’d been hit again. A cry of denial built in her throat, but it was blocked by the tightness there. She rose to her hands and knees and began crawling toward him without realizing it, intent only on getting to him. All she knew was that he was down and the shooters were still coming.
She was only a few yards from him when he reared up with the second rifle and let loose with another stream of bullets. She stopped and risked a glance past him, caught sight of three men bursting into view down the spiral of the staircase. Hunter had held his own so far, but he couldn’t hold off that much firepower alone.
In that moment a surge of cold, hard determination flooded her system. She brought her pistol up, finger on the trigger, prepared to shoot at anything coming up those stairs, but Hunter suddenly swept an arm out and knocked her flat. The air whooshed out of her as her chest hit the hard concrete and something hot and sharp tore into her back, just below her right shoulder blade. A split second later, Hunter’s weight crashed down on top of her. She went dead still beneath him, the repeated boom of gunfire echoing in her ears. She felt Hunter shift and heard the answering bark of his rifle, then he twitched and grunted, rolling away slightly.
Khalia snapped her head up in time to see two of the three gunmen appear at the bottom of the stairs. Hunter must have taken out the third. The remaining two were so close now she could see the whites of their eyes. She didn’t think, only reacted. If she was going to die, she was going to die fighting, not cowering in the corner begging for her life. Rage and adrenaline crashed through her in a toxic, dizzying tide. Everything slowed. Hunter was still struggling to turn over when she brought both arms up to grasp the pistol grip and pulled the trigger over and over. The gun kicked in her grip. Her first two rounds slammed harmlessly into the concrete wall behind the men.
The one in the lead brought the muzzle of his rifle up, pointed it straight at her. In the space of a heartbeat, her senses crystallized. She was aware of her choppy breathing, the feel of the gun bucking in her hands as she adjusted her aim and squeezed the trigger. A bullet hit him high in the shoulder, causing him to cry out and drop the barrel of the rifle. She fired again, managed to hit him in the chest. He didn’t go down but he stumbled back, crashing into the man behind him.
In that split second lapse, Hunter appeared in her peripheral vision. The bark of his weapon filled the air. A spray of blood went up on the wall behind the lead man, a dark red hole appearing in the middle of his forehead. Khalia was already focused on the second one.
She was on her knees, arms trembling as she fired and fired again along with Hunter. All her focus remained on the last shooter as she pulled the trigger repeatedly. Another red bloom on the wall, a hole in his bearded face. Even as he toppled back, Khalia kept firing. She dimly realized she was screaming, venting her terror and rage, her finger continuously squeezing the trigger. It took her a moment to realize the gun was clicking on empty.
A hard hand seized her wrist, wrenching the weapon away. Shaking, chest heaving, she blinked up at Hunter. He had a hand on the side of her face, his urgent voice finally breaking through the haze.
“Baby, stop. It’s over. They’re dead.” His eyes were earnest, delving into hers with concern, as though he was afraid she’d cracked and lost her tenuous grip on sanity.
Dead. She gave a jerky nod in response. Her throat was locked too tight for her to get a word out. A ragged sound came out instead. The tension in her stomach and muscles suddenly evaporated, leaving her nauseated and her bones like jelly. She was shaking apart, didn’t know how to stop it.
Hunter’s gaze softened. “Hey,” he whispered, curving that steadying hand behind her neck as he leaned his forehead to hers. “Stay with me. You gotta stay with me.”
Yes. Stay with him. Her muscles refused to cooperate when he began to drag her upright. She let out a choked breath and shot a hand out for the railing to give her time to lock her knees. Jesus, she was ice cold, trembling so hard her teeth were chattering. The wail of the fire alarm suddenly turned piercing, made her want to clap her hands over her ears.
Hunter’s hand slid to her wrist. “Come on. Almost there.”
Khalia ran her gaze over him. He was bleeding in a few more places now but somehow still on his feet, and she prayed that meant he was going to be okay.
“How f-far?” she managed, lips and tongue so numb the words came out slurred.
“One more flight, then we’re on the ground floor.”
So close. She could make it.
Hunter started down with a pronounced limp, his fingers curled around her wrist, but she shook him loose. If there were more threats he’d need both hands and she could walk down these last stairs on her own.
The scent of gunpowder and blood mixed with the acrid tang of smoke, the reek of it all burning her nostrils. Hunter swept past the dead gunmen. Bodies of their innocent victims lay sprawled in a tangle of limbs on the stairs, so heartbreakingly close to the exit and escape. Another wave of nausea twisted her stomach. She swallowed a gag and kept her eyes on Hunter’s wide shoulders to block out the hideous sights. Putting one unsteady foot in front of the other, she curled both hands around the cold metal railing for support, her focus on that heavy steel door below them.
Stepping between the bodies, Hunter stopped at the side of the door and glanced back at her. “I’m going out first. Stay here until I tell you to come out. There’re gonna be first responders everywhere out there, and we don’t want any of them shooting at us by mistake.”
No, she really didn’t want that. “How do y-you know it’s s-safe to—”
“I’m gonna make it safe.” His voice rang with certainty, his eyes burning with resolve. Even wounded and covered with blood, he was prepared to risk his life for hers. The knowledge made her tear up.
“Stand back, flat against the side wall,” he told her. When she’d picked her way through the bodies to get in position, he turned his back to her, waited beside that door, then reached out and slammed it open with one hand. He ducked back behind the cover of the concrete wall as brilliant sunshine flooded the room. Khalia flinched and closed her eyes, bracing for more shooting.
Nothing happened. No bullets, nobody running at them. A gust of fresh air rushed through the tight space. When she opened her eyes, the rifle he’d been holding lay on the floor by the open door and Hunter was gone.
She dragged in a shuddering breath and got ready to run. The brilliant rectangle of light in the open doorway seemed like a portal into another world, leading from this hellish blood-spattered place of murder and terror into safety and freedom.
A shadow appeared between the jambs. She tensed, but then Hunter materialized in the opening. “It’s safe. Come on out.” He stretched out a hand to her, palm up.
Her gaze locked onto that strong, capable hand. Khalia shoved away from the wall and lunged for it. The moment their palms touched he curled his fingers around hers and pulled her outside. Blinking in the glare, she instinctively shielded her eyes with one hand as she followed Hunter at an unsteady jog. A wall of men appeared in front of them. Black uniforms, blue ones, military fatigues. They descended upon her and Hunter, surrounding them, everyone shouting at once.
Someone grabbed her around the waist and ripped her from Hunter’s hold. He wore a police uniform but that meant shit to her right now. She twisted and kicked out, felt a sharp twinge in her back where she’d been hit earlier. A scuffle broke out in front of her and she could hear Hunter yelling her name, swearing. She whirled and struggled, casting a frantic glance around for him, but he’d already been swallowed up by the sea of humanity engulfing them.
“I’m trying to get you to safety!” the officer shouted at her, clearly exasperated by her resistance. “Come this way, to where the medics can look at you.”
“I want to
find my friend,” she insisted, pulling away from him.
“You’re bleeding, and need to do as I say.” He snagged her arm again, his grip tighter this time, and started walking despite her protests. The scuffle in the crowd was still going on as the policeman towed her away from the hotel, firing questions at her as he went. Were there any more shooters still inside, was anyone else shot, was she hurt, how much smoke had she breathed in.
“I’m f-fine,” she shouted at him, yanking against his hold. The wound in her back couldn’t be too serious, or she wouldn’t be able to walk. Finally he stopped and let her go long enough for her to turn around and look for Hunter. Her gaze snagged on the front of the hotel, the windows of the middle floors spewing smoke and flame. Black clouds of it boiled into the clear blue sky. More smoke belched from the doorway she’d just fled through. She still couldn’t believe they’d come out of there alive. So many others hadn’t been as fortunate.
The sudden, violent lurch in her gut gave her just enough warning to bend over. She heaved up bile until she had to lean her hands on her thighs to stay upright. Someone laid a hand on her back and a water bottle appeared in front of her watering eyes. She coughed and sputtered, struggled to get her breath back, but her knees finally gave out and she sank to the hot pavement. Paramedics arrived. A team of what looked like SWAT guys rushed past her toward the open exit door.
“Bodies,” she gasped.
“What?” one of the medics asked.
“Bodies in there,” she said, pointing. “All over the floor.” Oh shit, she was going to throw up again.
The officer pushed her head down. “Take some deep breaths,” he said, his accented voice adding to the unreality of the situation. She should have been at the airport right now, getting ready to board her flight home. “Are you hurt anywhere?”
She shook her head, not caring about the stinging in her back. Cuts and scrapes were nothing. “Hunter was shot. Is he—”
“Let’s get you over to one of the ambulances.” He dragged her to her feet.
She allowed him to lead her through the swarm of people, but after seeing what had happened to the ambulances after the bombings downtown, she didn’t want to get near them. Khalia dug in her heels. “I told you, I’m fine,” she snapped. “Now let me go find my friend.”
“You have cuts that need bandaging and oxygen will help with the smoke inhalation.”
Even if her lungs felt roasted on the inside, she wasn’t going over there. “Dammit, I said no—”
“Khalia!”
At the shout she whipped her head around to search the crowd for a friendly face and saw Gage shoving his way through toward her. The policeman backed up a step when Gage burst through and pulled her into a tight hug. She flinched at the pain in her back, flooded with relief.
“Jesus, you guys scared the shit out of us,” Gage said. “You okay?”
“Just scraped up, but they hit Hunter a few times. Have you seen him?”
Gage frowned and took a look around them. “There he is. Tom’s got him at an ambulance.”
Though she was still afraid that someone had planted a bomb somewhere, Khalia didn’t protest as Gage bent and swung her up in his arms, careful of the wound on her back. She closed her eyes and rested her head on his shoulder. When she opened them again she saw Hunter searching the scene, and the moment his gaze landed on her he visibly relaxed. Gage carried her straight over and settled her in the back of the next ambulance, then the medics took over.
Tom appeared at the back doors a few moments later. “Thank God you’re okay. I thought I was gonna have to pin Hunt and choke him out to keep him from going to find you.”
Khalia pulled the oxygen mask away to speak, fired a glare at the paramedic when he quickly shoved it back into place. She looked back at Tom. “Is he okay?”
“Got some holes in him they’re trying to patch up, but their job’ll be way easier now that he knows you’re safe.”
“Sir, we need to start treatment on her now,” another paramedic said from beside her. “Please step back and let us get to work.”
“You taking her to the hospital?” Gage asked.
She shook her head, adamant. “I don’t need to go to the hospital.” What she wanted was to see Hunter and make sure he was really okay. And then she wanted to hide in his arms and wake up to find this was only a nightmare.
“They’re transporting Hunt now,” Tom said, then glanced at Gage. “Meet you there?”
“Yeah.” Gage climbed inside and parked it beside Khalia despite the exasperated sighs of the paramedics. With one lift of an eyebrow, Gage silently dared them to kick him out. They didn’t and a moment later the driver slammed the rear doors shut.
Needing human contact to reassure her that she was finally safe, Khalia reached over for his hand. Without a word Gage closed his fingers around hers and held on tight the entire ride to the hospital.
Chapter Twenty-one
Over an hour after being wheeled into the emergency room on a fucking gurney, Hunter was done with people poking and prodding at him. The wounds in his upper arm and calf hurt the worst, but the doc had already confirmed there were no bullets in him, just bits of concrete and splinters of metal. Two nurses were currently pulling some of them out of his back with tweezers while the doc sewed up the hole in his arm in preparation for a precautionary round of x-rays.
Biting back a snarl when one of the nurses dug deep into the middle of his back to extract a splinter of shrapnel, he gritted his teeth and fought for patience. Khalia was safe; she was being looked over somewhere in this same ER, he just couldn’t go to her. And he needed to. Wanted to see for himself that she was truly okay.
The doctor, a young Pakistani woman, tied off the last stitch and set down her needle driver on the metal tray beside his bed. “I stopped all the bleeding so that should do for now. Once we verify via x-ray that all the large fragments are out and the bone is intact, we’ll have a better idea of what we’re dealing with, and whether you’ll require surgery.”
Hell. “How long’s that gonna take?” He didn’t have time for a surgery and the recovery that would follow. Considering all he’d been through the past few days, wasn’t it time the universe cut him a fucking break?
The doctor raised her eyebrows at his curt tone, aimed a quelling look at him. “Could be a long wait, considering how many patients we’re treating from the hotel. It will depend.”
Meaning, she could make it take all day if he insisted on being an asshole to her and the rest of the staff. Hunter forced out a slow, calming breath and tried for a reasonable tone. “My arm’s not broken. As soon as I’m bandaged up I’ll be good to go, and I’m sure someone else needs the bed worse than me anyway.” Ambulances were still arriving with new victims from the hotel every few minutes.
“Well, let’s just wait and see what the x-rays tell us, so we know for sure. You said your tetanus vaccinations were up to date?” She bent to make some notes in his chart.
“Yeah.” He barely kept from growling it. The wounds scattered across his body stung and throbbed, adding to his agitation. He wanted to find this Youssef asshole, hunt him down along with the rest of his militant buddies and expedite their journey to the afterlife. Fucking brainwashed bastards.
The second nurse, a male, finished up with cleaning and bandaging the last of the lacerations in his back and stepped away to look at him. “Do you want anything for the pain?”
Of course he’d ask that after all the poking and stitching. “No, I’m good.” He started to sit up, using his good arm for leverage. The nurse grabbed him and helped him upright, ignoring the dark look Hunter shot him. He wanted to see Khalia and get the hell out of here. “How long until those x-rays?” he demanded. The local police, ISI and US State Department must have launched their own intensive investigations by now. But Hunter wanted his team to be the ones who brought Youssef and the rest of the cell down.
The nurse looked over just as another orderly appeared at the
end of the room. “I was going to say at least another half hour, but I think you just got lucky.” The orderly headed straight for them, nodded once.
Luck? Hunter snorted. More like Gage or Tom had taken charge and moved Hunter to the front of the line. He stood despite the doctor’s and nurse’s protests, and insisted on walking to the x-ray room without assistance. While the tech fussed with his positioning on the table Hunter was a good boy and did what he was told—anything to hurry this process the hell up. By the time he finished and wandered back into the ER to await the results so they could discharge him, Gage was there waiting for him.
“How’s Khalia?” Hunter asked as he neared the bed Gage stood beside.
“She’s good. Good sized piece of shrapnel buried in her back, but they got it out and stitched up, so it’s all good now.”
Fuck, he hated thinking about anything penetrating her silky soft skin. He looked around the ER, a hive of activity with more and more patients being brought in. “Where is she?”
“With Tom. He didn’t want to wait and take any more chances with getting her and Ray to a different city, so Tom’s working on getting them both on the next flight out of Islamabad.”
Good. Much as he hated to lose her, he wanted to see her safe more. He just hoped he’d get some time alone with her, at least a few minutes in private, so he could tell her everything he needed to before she left. “Any word on the investigation?”
“Ongoing, but nothing concrete or specific yet. You know how it is, everything’s chaos right now.”
“That sucks ass.” He flexed his hand and moved his wounded arm, testing the muscles. The surge of pain and tightness there assured him everything was still attached and in working order. He pretty much hurt everywhere. All he needed now was the doc’s official okay.
“Hey.”
He swiveled around at the sound of Khalia’s voice, found her walking toward him across the ER. Immediately he scanned her for injury, noted the bandages on her forearms and the streaks of grime on the sides of her face. He moved without even being aware of it, rushing over as fast as his limp would allow. Careful of the bandage beneath the back of her T-shirt where they’d stitched her up, he slid both arms around her. Returning the embrace, she leaned into him with a hard sigh and buried her face into his chest.