Hotbed Honey (25 page)

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Authors: Toni Blake

BOOK: Hotbed Honey
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"Where the hell is the logic in that?"
"One person can't shoot both of us at the same time."
Max
really
didn't like this. If they were going to get shot at, he had every intention of making sure he was the one who took the bullet.
"And," she added, "the guy will probably be keeping his gun stuffed in his pants behind his back, right? If one of us could possibly get behind him—"
Okay, he was crazy about the woman, but… "Brandt, that's too far-fetched. Like I said before, this isn't a movie."
"It's not far-fetched at all," she corrected him. "I saw Carlo pull his gun from there when we were out in the warehouse."
Max sighed, almost as if conceding. "Okay, so you've impressed me with your observational skills. Still, if we get caught, we stick together. No arguments."
She scowled at him, but he didn't care. "Got it?"
Hesitantly, Kimberly nodded, but she let him see the irritation in her eyes.
He took a deep breath. "Ready to do this?"
She nodded again. "Although frankly, Tate, I'd feel better if I had underwear on."
This time he scowled. They exchanged looks of annoyance then, just like old times, Kimberly thought strangely.
They rose and Max carefully climbed up on a tower of boxes toward a metal slat in the duct that was partially disconnected from the rest, the screws missing. After a few minutes of working at it, it finally came off completely, opening a hole to the duct.
"I'll go first," Max announced, and Kimberly knew he was thinking about protecting her. If the vent was going to come crashing down beneath the added weight, he wanted to be the one to fall, not her.
While her P.I.'s sensibilities were slightly offended, her feminine ones were not, so she simply said, "Okay," and watched as he pulled himself up into the duct with the agility of a cat. He disappeared inside and the duct didn't move or even sag, and she hoped that meant it was stronger than it looked.
Next, Kimberly followed Max's path up the boxes and into the duct. It wasn't easy in a dress, but soon she was in the pitch-black tunnel on her hands and knees.
She reached out a hand to make sure Max was still there … and found his butt.
"Jeez, Brandt. Not now."
"Quit dreaming," she snipped. "It was an accident."
"Are you in? Are we ready to crawl?"
"More than ready. Let's get going."
The going was slow and uncomfortable. Breathing was difficult. Although she could see nothing, she could smell, taste and feel the heavy dust particles all around her. Moving through the unrelenting blackness was nearly unbearable, but Kimberly tried not to feel claustrophobic and not to think about the possibility that bugs or vermin could be sharing the space with them.
"You all right?" Max asked after a little while.
"Yes," she lied, when she was really thinking,
Get me out of here!
Remembering that this was a life-or-death situation helped her focus on staying calm.
"Damn," Max whispered in front of her a few minutes later.
She didn't have to ask why. She'd already caught sight of the rectangle of dim light ahead.
"The duct is ending," he told her anyway. When he approached the end a moment later and peered down, he announced, "We're right in the middle of the damn warehouse."
Kimberly simply took a deep breath. "At least we're out of the closet," she reminded him.
"Good point," he answered over his shoulder. "We're gonna have to get down to the floor somehow, Brandt. And then we're gonna have to find our way out, quick and quiet. Ready?"
"After all this, I guess I'm ready for anything."
Kimberly watched as Max squeezed his legs around and out of the duct. Carefully he dropped himself down to the floor. He made the ten-foot jump gracefully and landed with barely a noise.
"Max," she whispered down to him. "I can't do that like you just did. I'll break my legs."
Below her, he was shaking his head and looking annoyed. "This is no time to go soft on me, Brandt. Just do it. Don't think about it. I'll break your fall."
He was right. So she didn't think. She just took a deep breath and let herself drop.
Max kept his word and let her fall onto him, nearly knocking him down. But despite the rough landing, she ended up in his arms and, miraculously, they both stayed on their feet.
Now on the ground, Kimberly looked around. Everything was gloriously still and not as dark as she might have hoped, but it was still much more shadowy than it would be in the morning when the sunlight came blasting through the windows near the ceiling. They'd picked a good time to escape.
Kimberly's stomach churned with nervousness as she and Max began to silently make their way around the heaps of glassware containers. A few tenuous moments later, they rounded a row of crates and then Kimberly spotted the door—the very same they'd come through yesterday afternoon. She grabbed Max's wrist and pointed. His eyes lit with relief and Kimberly thought,
We're actually getting out of here!
And then a voice cut into her joy. "Well, what do we have here?"
Kimberly and Max both turned to find Carlo standing behind them.
"I don't know how you got out of that closet, but you sure as hell aren't getting out of this building alive."
Kimberly released a ragged, disbelieving sigh. A part of her wanted to cry, but another part of her quickly realized that he was alone. And what had she told Max? If they went up against only one person, they should separate. He'd practically forbidden it, but she didn't care. She had to trust her instincts now—she could see no other way.
She strode boldly toward Carlo without giving Max a glance. She only prayed he'd stay where he was. "Brandt," he snapped, but at least he didn't seem to be following her.
Oddly, Carlo took a step or two back, obviously confused by her approach. "What the hell…" he muttered. She thought for a moment that maybe he would make this easy, maybe she could just walk up and take his gun herself.
But then he pulled it from the back of his waistband, just as she'd known he would.
Instead of stopping, she kept moving toward him, which clearly confused him even more. "Hold still!" he said.
"Carlo," she purred, "you wouldn't hurt me, would you?"
He seemed unable to decide whether to hold the gun on Kimberly or on Max. He chose Max in the end, figuring him to be more adversarial, she guessed, but his eyes had gone soft at her seductive tone.
"Would you?" she whispered. Soon she was at his side, so close she could have reached up and kissed him, and she knew he was thinking the same thing.
"I … don't want to hurt you, Kimberly," he said. "You know that."
"Yes, I know that," she breathed, widening her eyes, meeting his gaze, and trying to figure out exactly how she could get the gun from him.
But then Max said, "Damn it, Brandt, get away from him."
Carlo swung his gaze back to Max, shouting, "Get your hands where I can see 'em."
Before Carlo could figure out what to do next, Kimberly spotted one of the heavy white pitchers they'd found yesterday, and she picked it up, crashing it on Carlo's head, hard. He crumpled to the ground before her, and Kimberly had just seen the alarm in Max's eyes when someone else behind her said, "Hold it right there!"
The words halted her in place and she turned to find three men with guns, all of them trained on her and Max. It felt as though her heart dropped to her stomach. She knew instantly that they'd come too far to give in now, and that their only chance lay in blatant and very risky defiance. The only other alternative was certain death.
She looked toward Max, her back to the gunmen. And she moved her lips to say,
Run
.
But Max just stood there, his eyes darting back and forth between Kimberly and the guys with the guns. She supposed he was determined to do something to save her, to treat her as the damsel in distress he seemed to think she was. But there was no time for that now. She had to force the issue. She mouthed the word to him again, this time with fire in her eyes. Run!
She bolted madly toward the door and Max joined her. Gunfire erupted behind them, bullets whizzing past her and people yelling. The danger was so thick she could taste it.
Suddenly, a sharp pain exploded in her hip and she looked down to see a bright red blot on her dress. She kept running in spite of it, although she felt strange and weak and heavy. And as they neared the door, she yelled at Max, "Tate, I've been shot!"
Chapter 11
S
he'd been shot? His Kimberly? No, it couldn't be. But a glance told Max it was true. Blood stained the left side of her dress.
"Can you keep going?"
"I think so."
They were at the door, Max pushing her through, running behind her.
I've got to get her safe, I've got to get her safe.
He looked up and saw the street before him illuminated with eerie swirling lights—blue ones, on cop cars. They lined the front of the warehouse.
"Max! Kim!" The voice belonged to Frank, rising from somewhere amid the blue glow.
There was more gunfire behind them and Max tackled Kimberly, pushing her to the pavement, praying that it would all end soon, and that she wouldn't die.
Please don't let her die, God. Please.
* * *
"Thanks again, Frank," Max said, clasping his friend's hand. "If you hadn't gotten that message and called the police in…"
"Hey, let's not think about that, huh?" Frank slapped him on the back and it helped Max lighten up a little. Still, Frank had really come through for them—a little late, but better than never. He and Kimberly were out of danger, and Carlo and all his buddies were on their way to jail.
And Kimberly, thought Max as he made his way through the chaos, had come through, too. She'd defied him by doing just the opposite of what he'd told her to when they'd confronted Carlo, but it had turned out to be a pretty good move. Still risky as hell, but it had worked. If those other guys hadn't come along, they'd have been home free.
A moment later, he kneeled next to her in an ambulance that was about to take her to the hospital. Thankfully, she'd sustained only a flesh wound, but she was wearing it like her very own Red Badge of Courage. "Can you believe I actually got shot, Max?" she said with a huge smile as an EMT cleaned and bandaged the scratches she'd gotten when Max tackled her.
He wanted to laugh and he wanted to cry. He'd never seen anyone so happy about getting shot. But he should have learned this weekend that if anyone could catch him off guard, it was Kimberly. He brushed back a strand of hair from her face.
"I wonder if I'll have a scar. I normally hate scars, but in this case, it might be kind of cool." She shifted her gaze to the young man currently pressing an adhesive bandage across her forehead. "Will I have one?"
"Probably," he said, his smile tinged with amusement.
Clearly pleased with his answer, she turned her gaze back to Max. "I wonder what it'll look like."
When the EMT was done, Max said, "Can we have a minute?"
The young man gave a friendly nod, then stepped out and closed the ambulance doors.
Alone with her for the first time since their escape, all Max's emotions came rushing back. He wanted to kill her. And he wanted to kiss her. He chose the second, taking her into his arms and giving her a long, deep kiss that he hoped shook her to her core as much as it shook him.
"I'm sorry, babe, about knocking you down. You didn't need that on top of a gunshot wound."
"You were only trying to protect me, Max. And besides, compared to taking a bullet, they're pretty minimal injuries." She was smiling again.

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