Rhapsody (The Teplo Trilogy #2) (38 page)

She whimpered, a pitiful, keening sound, but finally did as instructed and looked at him.

"I need you to keep an eye out while I take care of him. Can you do that for me?" He talked to her like she was a child, but she was on the verge of cracking. He had to keep her calm or Tristan wasn't going to make it. If they tried to move him like this, he would bleed out or go into shock. "Lillian?"

"Y-yeah." She swallowed hard and nodded. "I can do that."

"Good." He handed her the gun she'd dropped and pulled her to her feet before stripping his belt off to use as a tourniquet and dropping to his knees. "Shoot anything that moves, darlin'."

"Freeze, motherfuckers," Michael boomed, stepping out from his hiding place and leveling his gun at the duo as they started across the lot.

They stopped walking and turned, matching looks of irritation on their faces.

Elijah recovered first, grabbing for the gun tucked into his pants.

"Don't even think about it, asshole," Michael warned, his finger on the trigger. "I will shoot you if you even look at me cross-eyed. Do you have any fucking idea how goddamn much you assholes annoy me?"

"Riley's partner, I presume?" Elijah asked, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender.

"Something like that," he said, not really in the mood to go into specifics with the asshole about why he didn't have a partner and didn't want one, not even Riley.

"You said he was alone," the redhead growled.

"He was," Elijah retorted. "Don't know where this one came from."

Michael grinned at his pissed off tone. "I came from the skies above, asshole. I want your weapons on the ground and you face down in the next two minutes or I start shooting."

"You're a cop," the redhead said, rolling her eyes. "You aren't going to shoot anyone."

Michael laughed. "Thanks to that big fucking behemoth you work with, I've spent all day popping Vicodin like it's going out of style. Drop the weapon and get the fuck on the ground before my patience runs out. And while you're at it, how about telling me what the hell you set on fire in there?"

"Son of a bitch!" Jason cursed, causing Lillian to jump.

She spun in his direction, her heart hammering in her chest. "What's wrong?" Her eyes ran over Tristan's battered body, looking for any signs that he was getting worse. He was in such bad shape, she couldn't tell.

"Kincaid just found Elijah and Mariah. We've got to go."

She breathed a sigh of relief before the urgency of his tone dawned on her.

"We have to go. Now," he said again. "They've set something on fire in the tunnel."

He didn't have to tell her a third time.

She hobbled toward Tristan as quickly as she could.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," the redhead said as Michael demanded that they drop their weapons and hit the ground. He wanted to shoot her on principal. She looked high as a kite, her eyes wide and dilated, her movements jerky and half-formed. She was getting on his nerves like a fucking junkie, too. "It's going to be really unsafe to be here in about two minutes."

Yeah, he'd already figured as much. But hey, if all hell was going to break loose thanks to whatever bullshit they'd loaded the tunnel with, at least the waves would break on their asses, too.

I Don't Give A Shit 101.

Best class ever.

"I'm getting bored with this shit," he muttered, steadying the gun on his cast. "Drop the goddamn weapons. And hit the ground. Now!"

She huffed and pulled the gun on her hip from the holster. They didn't get much further before the ground shook beneath their feet, a distant boom sounding.

Elijah grabbed for his Glock.

Michael dove for cover, pulling the trigger.

"What was that?" Lillian cried as a loud boom rang out, shaking the tunnel around them. Boxes and bottles rattled and fell to the floor, liquid pouring out as she fought to stay on her feet.

Jason cursed loudly as he was thrown to the floor, his belt still in his hands. He dragged himself up to his knees before the shaking subsided and grabbed for Tristan, the belt forgotten. "Lillian, can you run?" he asked as a whooshing sound began from farther down the south tunnel, growing louder.

"What?" She blinked as he hefted Tristan over his shoulder in a fireman's carry and staggered to his feet. Tristan didn't even move.

"Run," Jason gritted out. "Now."

Flames shot from the end of the south tunnel, rapidly igniting the gasoline spread across the floor.

Lillian started limping as fast as she could go.

They were halfway up the stairs when the gasoline spread across the basement floor caught with a crackling hiss.

"Faster," Jason urged her as she dragged herself upward, not even daring to breathe.

Another loud explosion sounded, closer than before, rocking the building.

Her heart raced. Her breath came in sharp pants. The roar from below drowned out both sounds, pushing her as fast as possible up the stairs. Smoke poured into the club, billowing up the stairs and thickening the air around them. Her eyes and lungs burned, but she didn't care. All she could think about was Tristan, motionless over Jason's shoulder as he raced toward the exit at her side.

The heat of the flames rushing toward them licked at her as she ran across the dance floor, her leg screaming in protest. The doors were close, so close she could smell sunshine and freshly mown grass beneath the overpowering stench of smoke and gasoline, but they weren't close enough.

Flame licked higher, heat pulsating at her back in burning waves.

Would she feel it when the fire caught up to them? Would dying hurt?

Her leg wobbled beneath her, shards of pain slicing through the fear in her mind. The muscles stretched tight beneath her as she pushed her leg to the edge of collapse. Still, she kept moving, running as fast as she could. Like the ballerina she had been on stage, each step she took had purpose.

The doors loomed directly ahead, but Jason was faltering, Tristan's dead weight slowing him down. She wasn't going to let Tristan die like this—buried in the rubble of
Teplo
—because of her. For the last year of her life, she'd felt helpless. She'd been caught in a nightmare she didn't want to live, unable to dance, to run, or to cross her legs and simply sit on the floor. She wasn't going to let it end like this, running away from something else she couldn't fight while he died.

For once in a very long time, she was suddenly certain of who she was. Not a ballerina. Not an agent. But a woman in love. Madly, desperately, absolutely head over heels in love. She'd take whatever came her way, however it came, for the man she loved. And she would give up every bit of happiness in a heartbeat, anything it took, just so long as he survived. She didn't even have to think about her actions as a deafening roar sounded below.

Reaching out, she pushed Jason as hard as she could, shoving him and Tristan through the doors.

The building erupted around her, the heat flinging her off of her feet.

"You sadistic little bitch," Michael grunted as the redhead aimed low and fired off a round. Luckily, the bullet went wide, slamming into the side of the building instead of his head. He barely managed to get his own gun up before returning fire.

He didn't know where the hell Elijah was at, but S.P.D. converged on the warehouse like a SWAT team on a hostage situation. And Mariah kept fucking firing. She had him backed into a corner, nowhere left to go but down.

Yeah, screw that. If he went down, he intended to take her with him. He'd never shot a woman before, but for her? Exception was his motherfucking middle name.

"Lower your weapon," he panted as she slammed into the side of the building.

Seattle cops drew their weapons all around the maze of police cars out front. They couldn't fucking shoot her without hitting him though. And wasn't that about a bitch? He would have told them to fire already, but tempting fate when death already stared him in the face wasn't a good idea.

"Not happening," the redhead retorted, grimacing.

"You really think you're going to kill me and walk away?" he laughed, not sure if she was too high to care or just ballsy as hell. "It doesn't work that way. Even your boyfriend knew that. He left your stupid ass here."

She smiled at him, and Jesus Christ if that wasn't the creepiest smile he had ever seen in his life. Goosebumps broke out all up and down his arms. "He wouldn't leave me. You don't know anything about him," she mumbled, her finger twitching on the trigger. Her eyes were wild. Like she'd lost what little goddamned mind she had left. Fuck's sake, she probably had. Crazy bitch looked like she'd been mainlining crack. She smiled again, sending another round of goosebumps racing up and down his arms. "You're going to die."