Page 74 of Twisted Gift

He manages to pull the detonator out of his pocket as the guard struggles to hold him. “We’re even now, blondie.”

I scream when another gunshot fills the air. My eyes go wide, flying to Max’s face. His mouth is open as if he’s about to scream, but no sound comes out. Two more gunshots sound, and Max stumbles forward, out of the building, and slumps to the ground.

The detonator falls between us.

“No!”

I rush to his side, slamming my hand down on the detonator. Before the guards have a chance to move, the blare of the lockdown signal drowns out their shouts. A solid metal barrier comes down, sealing the doorway closed as the ground starts to rumble.

“Open your damn eyes, Max, we need to move!”

His eyelids flutter until they finally open, and his distant gaze makes my blood run cold.

“Fucking hell,” I breathe. Struggling to get my good arm under his shoulders, it takes several attempts to get him to his feet and start shuffling away from the building.

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.

There go the bombs in the basement. I force my legs to move faster, dragging us farther away. We’re still in danger of falling debris, and the building is coming down fast, getting louder the closer it gets to the ground floor.

My head shoots up at the sound of tires spinning on gravel, as a black Escalade tears toward us. It screeches to a halt, and my breath hitches when Richelle jumps out of the driver’s seat.

“What did you do?” she screams, her eyes wild with devastation.

“Don’t you dare,” I seethe, pointing the gun as well as my injured arm will allow. It’s empty now, but she doesn’t know that. “Help me get him in the car, or so help me god, I will shoot you.” She’s trembling, and it gives me a sick sense of satisfaction.

After we struggle getting Max into the passenger seat, Richelle seems to stumble back, but then she twists as if to attack. Switching the gun to my good hand, I clock her in the forehead with the butt of it. She ricochets against the car and then falls against me. I can work with this. I crouch until she’s over my uninjured shoulder and shift until I can get the door open behind her. Then I take a deep breath and use the strength I have left in my legs to shove her into the back seat, slamming the door shut. Finally, I throw myself behind the wheel.

Max is slumped against the door, his cheek pressed against the window.

“Hey,” I say in a loud, sharp voice as I shake him. “Stay awake.” Turning the key in the ignition, I press the brake and put the car in drive. With little care, I turn it around one-handed and go back the way Richelle came in.

It dawns on me that I have no idea where we are, but I figure so long as we’re driving away from the building that’s collapsing in the rearview, we’re going in the right direction. My eyes scan the dash, and my heart races when I see a small map icon on the display screen. I make quick work of putting in the address of the Westbrook Hotel, but my stomach drops when I see we’re almost an hour away.

“Aurora . . .” Max’s voice is so low, so broken, it brings tears to my eyes.

“Good,” I say, “just keep talking to me.” I give the car more gas as we reach a road.

“I need you to make sure they know.” It takes him some time to get the words out, and he starts coughing blood halfway through the sentence.

Son of a bitch.

Max might not have an hour. I need to drive faster.

I accelerate, turning onto the road, following the soft GPS directions coming through the car speakers.

“Aurora,” Max says through his teeth, his breathing getting shallower with each exhale.

“No,” I say in a firm voice. “Whatever it is, you’ll tell them yourself. We’re almost there.”

I’m met by silence.

“Tell them yourself,” I repeat louder.

More silence.

My pulse spikes, my chest rising and falling fast. I’m too scared to turn my head to look at him. “Max?” The crack in my voice makes my eyes fill with tears. “Say something. Please.”

Nothing.

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