Page 34 of Second Chance Savior

I stared at him. He was serious.

Peering through the window, River observed whatever hecould see outside. Meanwhile, I watched him, wishing I could see inside his head.

“Are you sure we shouldn’t just stay here?” I asked. “The police and SWAT and a thousand FBI agents are probably on their way.”

“Which is exactly why we need togo. They could be working for Stillwater.”

He’d mentioned a corrupt official in Hartley, but this would be a much vaster conspiracy. “How do you know that? Do you haveproof?”

“I don’t have time to explain it all, Charlie.”

“You never do.” I rubbed my bare arms, suddenly cold. “You do what you want, and expect me to deal with it. Meanwhile, for all I know, three FBI agents who stuck their necks out for me could be dead. One of them my best friend. Where the hell were you when Brynn got sick? I thought you’d left! You weren’t even paying attention to what was going on!”

“I assure you that I was.”

“Stop being so fucking calm!” I shouted.

A noise like a slamming door came from somewhere in the building. It was a lot closer than the last sounds we’d heard from the lobby. I gasped, and River lunged at me, pressing me against the wall.

We both went silent. Listening.

Footsteps.

My throat squeezed, cutting off my breath.

“Two people,” he whispered. “I’ll take care of them. Then we’ll go.” River bent, lifted his pant leg, and produced a knife. He placed it handle-first into my palm. “Hide until I’m back.”

“River,” I hissed.

But he was gone, slipping like a wraith through the gap in the broken door frame.

I would’ve given anything for my bow and arrow right now.

Assessing the dark office, I chose a spot where I’d be out of sight to anyone looking into the room, but in a strong position if they ventured inside. I held the knife ready.

There was a commotion in the hall. I flinched when I heard two muffled gunshots. Small grunts of effort. Something smacking into a wall. I winced.

Then a shadow suddenly loomed in the doorway.

Not River.

This man was far bulkier, wearing a stocking cap pulled over his face. Gun in his hand. I squeezed the handle of the knife.

My body vibrated as I tried to hold still.

Wait. Wait.

The man took another step. His head swiveled in my direction.

I lashed out with the knife. The tip buried in his chest, but I met tough resistance. He was wearing some kind of vest. I tried to pull the knife free. Bellowing, he turned and smacked me into the wall. Pain burst in my shoulder.

Pop. Pop. The assailant crumpled onto the ground. River stood in the doorway, weapon extended and a terrifying blankness to his expression. Eyes like a shark.

I slumped beside the wall, panting, but I managed to push myself upright. River grabbed my arm to help me. Hauled me against him. He was breathing hard too. I felt his heart beating almost as fast as mine.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Your jacket is torn.”

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