Page 68 of Trace of Doubt
A pounding on the door separating my room from Isaac’s jolted me awake. I stumbled to it, but caution stopped me from flinging it open.
“Who’s there?”
“Isaac. Were you expecting Santa Claus?” The familiar growl left no confusion to his identity. “Open the door.”
I obliged and gasped. Blood spattered his shirt. “Are—?”
“Grab your stuff. We need to get out of here.”
As I whirled to snatch my backpack and purse, myriad questions longed to erupt. I slapped my room key on the TV table.
“Now!”
My gaze flew to his face. He swiped at a trickle of blood from the side of his mouth. I hurried through his open door. No need to ask if we’d been found.
Isaac yanked my arm down the hall. “The stairs. One of ’em is on the elevator.” We raced toward the red Exit sign. He opened the door and pulled me behind him. We hurried down the concrete stairwell.
One flight to the fifth floor.
Second flight to the fourth. A door above me opened and slammed, and the pounding of footsteps grew closer.
Midway down to the third floor, the stress on my lungs shortened my breathing. The door swung wide in front of me. A man wearing a ski mask bolted through.
A feral scream burst from my throat. I spun to see if the person following us had made it to the landing. A masked man towered above and raised his weapon.
The man in front of us raised his gun.
Isaac pushed me against the concrete wall, and I slid to the step. He opened fire on the man nearest us, then turned to the man who thundered down the steps.
Isaac shot. Grazed the man’s arm.
I rolled to the landing beside the man who had a gaping hole in his chest and blank eyes.
Isaac punched the jaw of the man on the steps. He knocked Isaac’s gun from his hands, and it fell beside me. I wanted to pick it up, help the situation, but I froze.
“Give me his gun!”
Isaac sent a fist into the masked man’s stomach, sending him toppling down the stairs. I hugged the wall on the landing. Isaac jumped over the dead man and retrieved his own weapon.
The man grabbed me. I kicked and hit him. He swung me around with my back slammed against him. The gun barrel pressed into my temple, and his other arm wrapped across my throat. “It’s over, old man.”
Isaac straddled the dead man. He raised his hands with his gun in his right. “Police are on the way.”
“But not before I finish my job. Drop the gun. Slowly.”
“No need for this,” I said. “You have me—let him go.”
“Shut up.” The man tightened his hold against my throat.
Isaac slowly bent.
I sank my teeth into the man’s arm and drove my fist into his groin. He cried out and jerked me sideways, giving Isaac time to throw his weight into me and the man.
The man released me. I pulled away, coughing. Fighting for air.
The gun fired. The bullet went wild. But Isaac had the advantage and wrenched the weapon from the man’s hand while jerking his injured arm behind his back.
“You okay?” He kept his attention on the man.
