Page 27 of Room 1017

“She is.”

Peter brought my hand to his lips and kissed the back of it, before he leaned closer and gave me a soft peck on the lips. “Thank you for trusting me with your story.” I could tell by the softening around his eyes that he was nearly ready to share his story with me too, but we’d had too much darkness for one evening.

I gave his hand one more squeeze before I levered myself up and walked over to retrieve Peter’s cane from the lawn. We could finish cleaning up later. “Come on, let’s head inside and I’ll get you an ice pack for your back. I’m going to need you nice and limber for what I have planned tonight. I seem to recall we have some celebrating to do.”

Peter’s responding smile was warm and full of heat and gratitude, and maybe even… love.

17

Peter

Iwasdozinglightlyon the couch when the phone rang. My nerves lit up with the first trickle of adrenaline teasing at me. In our job, no news was always good news, and a ringing phone was like the toll of a death knell.

I heard Amy answer the phone in the kitchen. “Frank’s Pizza.” She paused, listening to whoever was on the other end of the call. “Sab? What is it? What’s wrong?” There was fresh tension to her voice, and my eyes snapped open.

Sitting up, I struggled to shake the cobwebs from my mind. Something was wrong, and my entire body tingled with dread. Struggling not to let it slip into panic, I was already reaching for my gun.

“Okay, I’m on it,” Amy said, and I heard her on the move, headed my way. “I’ll get him out. Do you know who… Sab? Hello?” The call was cut off. A signal jammer?

I was on my feet, my senses sharp as I flicked off the small living room lamp, shrouding the room in shadows. They were coming. Putting my back against the wall, I peeked around the curtain, scanning the empty lawn and quaint suburban street beyond. I saw no sign of movement, heard no approaching vehicles.

Amy stepped silently around the corner, backlit from the kitchen light, gun in hand. Our gazes met, and I shook my head once, indicating that all was quiet. She reached behind her and flipped off that light too, making it easier for us to blend with the shadows. We both stilled our movements as our eyes adjusted.

Even as my heart hammered in my chest, I fought to hold my breath, straining my ears to hear the barest movement—a door or window being forced open, a footstep, the rustle of fabric. Adrenaline threatened to make my hands shake, but this was what we trained for. Decker was sleeping upstairs, and it was our job to protect him so he could testify in the mob trial.

How did they find us? There had to be a rat, someone on the inside. There was no other possibility!

I’d been on alert for so long, it was almost a relief when the light at the top of the stairs went out, the alarm panel by the door going dark. Someone had cut the power. We’d known it wasn’t a false alarm, and it wasn’t a drill. This was life or death. And now it was time for action.

Moving on the balls of my feet, I gestured for Amy to head for the back of the house, while I took the front. There was only one way for them to get to Decker, and that was up the main stairs. I refused to let them get that far.

Sweat made my shirt cling to my chest and back as I wove around the armchair, its form squat and bulky in the dark. I held my gun at the ready, safety clicked off, and set myself by the front door, guarding the entry and stairwell. The open plan gave me a view through the dining room to the back, and I watched Amy’s silhouette slip through the door to the mudroom, where the back door and basement stairs were located.

How long would it take Sab to get here? He knew where we were, knew we needed help. We just had to hold them off until backup arrived. Ten minutes? Maybe less? It felt like an eternity.

My mouth was parched, my eyes dry from not blinking. Any hint of sleep had been tossed aside once that phone rang, and my entire body sang with pent-up energy.

There was a dull thump from somewhere in the house, and my breath hitched. Was that Amy? I wanted to call out to her, but I gritted my teeth and waited, muscles tense. A creak from the basement stairs. A gasp and a heavier thud.

Fuck.

I took three steps, four, toward the back of the house, gun aimed and ready for someone to step through that door. What I hadn’t been ready for was the shadow that moved out from the hall behind me as I passed.

An arm came around my neck from behind, compressing my airway. I tried to pivot, bringing my gun around, tried to elbow him in the gut, but this was a trained killer, and he knew exactly what he was doing. His chokehold tightened so I couldn’t cry out as the knife was thrust through my back, right below my ribs. He stabbed me three more times, blood drenching me, and no matter how hard I tried to hold onto my gun, my grip loosened, the weapon clattering to the floor.

My legs gave out, and I landed hard, the world spinning as my face connected with the tiles.

I was going to die here on this floor, but I still tried to cry out to Decker, to tell him to run, hide, fight back. To do whatever it took to live.

“Run…” I mumbled through numb lips as my vision went dim… my heartbeat… slowing…

“Peter? Peter, wake up.”

“Run!” I shouted, my voice louder than I thought possible as I struggled against someone’s hold. I flailed away from their hands, grasping my shoulder, my face.

“Hey, Peter, wake up. Shh, you’re okay, I’ve got you.”

“No! No, he… I have to—” My chest was too tight, choking me. Oh gods, I was going to die. I had to get upstairs, had to save Decker.

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