Page 3 of Fully Loaded

Dani tiptoed over the tile floor into the kitchen, where she settled against a wall and crouched. She had to draw him out of the bedroom. Standing, she grabbed a glass next to the cast-iron pan in the dish rack. Then she returned to a crouched position. She closed her fingers over the cool object.

She mouthed a silent prayer—Please, God, let me make it out of here alive—pulled her arm back, and threw the glass as hard as she could. It shattered against the wall and dozens of pieces of glass ricocheted off the cupboards and floor. The rummaging in her room stopped.

“Adrian? Is that you?” The man spoke in English but with a German accent. Acid rose up her throat with every stomp of his footsteps, which were coming up the hall behind her. She heard the whish of slacks rubbing together as his black shoes strode past her.

“What the . . . ?” He stepped into the rectangle of illumination coming from the window and stared at the glass at his feet.

Dani tore her butt from the floor, raised her arm, and jammed the knife into his hamstring.

He screamed and cursed in German. “Fick!”

She leaped to her feet and grabbed the handle of the cast-iron pan as the man reached around and yanked the knife from his leg. The metal hit the floor with a clatter and Dani tightened her grip on the pan. His eyes, as black as coals in the shadow, shifted to her.

He shot out his arm but kept his injured leg rooted to the spot. He turned the muzzle of a gun toward her but she dodged out of reach and swung the frying pan into the side of his skull. His head snapped to the side and his eyes fixed on hers before rolling backward. His legs crumpled quicker than a broken fold-up chair with too much weight on it. She let out a whispered screech and dropped the pan in the sink, shaking her hands as if to erase what she’d done. She peered at the man’s slouched form. His eyes were closed but air hissed through his nose.

Not dead.

A tremor of disappointment shook her. One thing was for sure—she didn’t want to be here when he woke up.

First, she had to find out who he was. She bent down and reached into the inside pocket of his coat. A metallic object filled her palm. She pulled it out and held the object up to the shaft of light. The blood pumping through her veins slowed to a crawl as she read the writing on the badge: Swiss Polizei.

She sucked in a breath and shook her head. A cop? He wasn’t dressed in uniform, not wearing a radio . . . what the hell? Wouldn’t there be more of them if they’d come to arrest her? They sure as hell wouldn’t have broken into her apartment.

Ubrigg must have the cops working for him illegally—but why? She tucked the badge back in his coat and turned her attention to the gun near his hip. She lifted the heavy weapon out of his loose grip, turned, and fled to her bedroom. A flash of lightning lit the space. Her mattress was flipped over, half on the bed, half on the floor. The drawers of the dresser either hung out or lay on the carpet, their contents scattered across the room. A long piece of gray material dangled from one of the open drawers, and she snatched it. Changing clothes was a must. She’d stick out like a sore thumb running the streets in pajamas. She set the gun on the top of the dresser, shucked off her silk bottoms and pulled the yoga pants on, then stripped off her tank top and fit an oversized hoodie over her head. All she needed now was her phone and the drive. Thanks to her paranoia, she had a bag packed in her getaway car.

Another flash of lightning illuminated the pair of flats on the top shelf of the closet. She reached up, pulled down the left shoe, and dug her fingers inside.

Oh no! Had they found it?

Dani shook the shoe and sighed with relief as the drive fell into her palm. Slipping into the flats, she turned to survey the disaster. She couldn’t waste much time searching for her phone—the brute would wake any second. But if the police found it, they’d see Sven was involved. The whole job would be compromised and he’d be in danger, too. Her toe hit something small, and the object skittered under the bed frame. She dropped to the floor and groped in the direction it had gone. Her fingers brushed a smooth glass surface.

Ah-ha! Yes!

She scooped up the device, tucked it into the pocket of her sweater, and then placed the flash drive in the tiny pocket in the waistband of her pants. Grabbing the gun, she retraced her steps down the hall and paused near the kitchen, holding the weapon low in front of her. Splayed black shoes were visible through the doorway, assuring her one of the intruders was still unconscious. She opened the apartment door, searched the hallway for moving shadows—empty—and rushed out. The vise squeezing her lungs loosened. Almost free. As long as she didn’t bump into the other guy, she’d be in the clear.

She blinked as she shimmied down the hallway. She couldn’t see her hand in front of her face. Trailing her fingertips along the wall, she counted the units. Three more and she’d round the corner to the old woman’s apartment and the fire exit would be only feet away.

Her fingers floated off the cliff of the wall, alerting her to the corner. She turned left and the red light above the stairway shone like a beacon. She placed her palm on the door handle and shoved. A scuffle sounded behind her and her stomach lurched. She tried to whirl around but rough hands snagged her shoulders, shoving her against the wall.

“Fucking bitch! Where is it? Where’s the data?” The man lifted a gun to her head. The red light above the door coated his skin in a blood-like glow. The gun in her hand grew heavier. Energy bubbled over her nerve endings as she lifted the weapon to his waist. Terror gripped her consciousness, robbing her of the ability to speak.

“Talk or I shoot!” He lowered his gun so it was level with her heart. Her throat clenched. If she shot him, he’d shoot her right back.

Meow!

Her attacker jumped, jostling the gun away from her.

Yes! My little buddy.

She curled her finger around the trigger and pulled.

Crack!

The man’s body jerked back as he howled. His hands released her to staunch the blood flowing from the wound at his midsection. She ripped her back away from the wall and dove for the exit. The poor animal flashed through her mind, but all she could do was pray it had fled.

When her feet hit the stairs, gunshots whistled from the end of a silencer. She didn’t stop. One emergency fluorescent light lit each floor of the stairwell, and they flashed over her senses as she barrelled downward. She slammed into the last door and the stench of wet grass hit her face. Cold air rushed into her nose as her lungs seized the opportunity to gulp air. Sirens screeched, breaking the peace of the night. She cast a quick glance over her shoulder. Red and blue strobes bounced off the side of the building. She pushed on.

Water soaked through the thin canvas of her flats and her toes went numb as she sprinted through some trees and across a side street to a back alley. The muscles in her legs ached and her lungs and nostrils burned with the frigid air. Slowly, she brought her sprint to a jog then a brisk walk.