Page 2 of Just One Silver Fox

That would be part of the challenge.

The game was on.

The elevators would be too obvious as a way to get to the seventh floor. They’d be waiting in one staircase or both. How many of them would there be? Pierce would make it tough but not impossible. Four. Five?

He’d gotten one and had used two shots. He’d have to be more careful of his ammo.

Nate ran lightly to the west staircase, mentally reviewing what he knew of the building’s plan. It would be empty, except for Pierce’s team and the tenants who lived in the apartments over the club. Those floors would be off-limits and could only be reached by the dedicated pair of elevators on the far side of the building. He was secured in this part with his opponents.

The second guy in ninja black was behind the door. They struggled and the guy had some fearsome moves. Finally, Nate got him in the jewels, grinning as his opponent rolled to his back and gave Nate a thumbs-up. His challengers had to be the people already on Pierce’s team.

That was two guys and three shots.

Nate ran up four flights, raced across the darkened floor with the empty meditation rooms, hitting the elevator call button on his way past. He heard the elevator respond and was glad it was working. He sprang into the other staircase. Number three was waiting for him there, but Nate was ready. He got him right between the eyes and the guy fell back against the wall with a curse.

Even a paintball bullet could hurt.

Actually, number three was a woman.

Three opponents and four bullets.

Nate leapt up the stairs, listening for sounds of pursuit. He lunged into the corridor on the next floor, went back to the elevator and forced open the doors. The elevator was on the floor below. He jumped down to land silently on the top of it and opened the hatch when he heard the doors close. No one had summoned it so he dropped down to the floor, pushed seven and rode to his destination.

They obviously weren’t expecting him to get off the elevator, because the hallway was deserted—and there was nowhere to hide. He was outside the door of the unit in question before the hair prickled on the back of his neck. He heard a click and ducked. A paintball hit the wall beside him and Nate spun and shot back. This one was in the unit across the hall. His shot hit the door and the guy retreated. Nate kicked down the door and had a glimpse of the guy’s leg as he fled. He fired one shot and wasn’t sure whether it hit or not. There was only silence. If he followed, it could be a trap. He chose to continue to 702 since time was ticking away.

Six shots.

Nate went back to the door of 702 which was closed and locked. It had an old tumbler lock but he had no key. He had his wallet, though, and a credit card. When he started to pick the lock, a dog growled from the other side of the door, which was an unexpected complication—but this business was all about unexpected complications.

The lock surrendered and Nate eased inside, scooping up the small dog smoothly. There was a pet carrier near the door and the dog was inside it in a heartbeat, a handful of biscuits from the nearby box keeping the small canine happily crunching.

Nate leaned back against the wall, heart racing, and surveyed the room. This suite had two rooms, the larger one he occupied and the smaller adjoining one with the safe. The larger room had a conference table and a coffee bar, while the other room had an executive desk and chair. The chair was spun around so its back was toward him and it looked like someone was seated in it. The windows were covered and there was only a glimmer of light in the rooms, from the late afternoon sunlight that crept around the edges of the shades.

It couldn’t be this easy.

This was a test, after all.

There had to be an alarm, likely more than one. There could be beams across the doorway to the office that would sound an alert if disrupted. And that mat, just inside the other room, was thick. It could have a weight sensor in it. If there were motion detectors, he was already toast. He scanned the corners of the ceiling and spotted nothing.

The dog chewed the biscuits noisily and then Nate knew. The dog had free run of the place and hadn’t set off the alarm. Any sensors were high enough that the dog could walk beneath them. He dropped to his belly and crawled to the door of the smaller room, keeping as low as he could. He slithered across the threshold on his belly, twisting so that he avoided making any contact with the mat—because he weighed a lot more than the dog—and was almost surprised by the big guy crouched behind the desk. Nate spun to his feet and got his opponent in the forehead of his black balaclava. The guy gave him a thumbs-up, then sat back against the wall to watch.

Which meant there was something else.

Seven shots.

Nate jumped to the top of the desk, landing lightly on the balls of his feet. He could see a trip wire just barely catching the light down to the right. There could be more of them hidden in the shadows. He gave the chair a little push, spinning it. There was a woman seated in it, her mouth clamped shut like she was gagged and her hands bound to her sides. Her eyes lit as if she was relieved to see him and Nate leaned down to untie her from the chair

The only trouble was that Nate had to use his good hand to loosen the knot, which meant he had to hold the paint gun with his prosthesis. He wouldn’t be as good of a shot that way, but with any luck, he’d make quick work of the knot. He got the knot undone and was helping the woman onto the desk to retrace his steps when the air seemed to charge with tension. The woman didn’t seem to notice anything, but Nate felt the downed guy go still as if he was watching something. Nate pretended not to have noticed.

The last opponent sprang.

Nate pivoted, switching the paint gun to his good hand and blew the guy away.

Well, at least he covered his chest with green paint. His shot made a mess of that black ninja outfit. The guy fell back with a laugh that sounded familiar and pulled off his hood.

It was Pierce, his short silver hair slightly tousled and his eyes glinting.

“Four minutes and forty,” said the guy on the floor.

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