Page 67 of Taking Care of the Target

“What? Why aren’t you moving?”

She jerked her hand away from him and crossed her arms. “Don’twhatme. I still don’t know if I can trust you.”

“Which one of us is bleeding?” he asked, and her gaze dropped to the oozing wound in his side. That sickening, sucking noise the knife made as it exited his body would probably haunt her forever. “Why don’t you save deciding whether you trust me for after I get you out of here alive? Because our shooter’s not going to wait while you figure it out, and he might’ve brought backup.”

Well, when he put it that way, she didn’t have much of a choice. She quickened her pace, running for the elevator and cursing the fact that she chose tonight of all nights to wear her tallest heels. Vince pushed her on, toward the stairwell. “We’ll be sitting ducks in the elevator. We need to take the stairs.”

As soon as they stepped into the stairwell, he unzipped his duffel bag and took out a pistol. “You want to put your knife in here?”

“I’ll keep it, thanks.”

Vince shook his head. “Come on then, Rambo.” He took her hand and started down the stairs. Ten flights. No problem. Only her damn dress didn’t really allow for stairs. The seam of the skirt ripped a few inches as she stretched it to its limit, and she went ahead and used her knife to help it along so she could move better, trying not to think about how the dark red on the blade was Vince’s blood.

Vince left a splatter trail of it as they ran, but before she could think too much about it, he nudged her forward. Her breaths turned shallow, one coming after another as her heart pumped double-time.

Floor five.

“You know how… the other day…” Speaking at this pace was nearly impossible. “I said I wanted our adventures to be less scary?”

Gun out, Vince looked down the stairwell. He put his hand on her elbow and started the descent to the next floor.

“If we get out of this alive,” Vince said, his breathing barely affected, “we’ll go somewhere super boring. You can get your degree and create culinary masterpieces.”

“As long as I’m never shot at again, I’ll work wherever.” She almost missed a stair and barely caught herself on the railing with her free hand. She allowed herself one quick inhale and pushed past the burning in her thighs.

One more floor to go.

“I’m guessing the reason we were shot at the night I first met you—well, met you for the second time—was because I witnessed the shooting in the alley?”

“Yeah, Sal got a little excited. That’s why I became your shadow for the past few weeks. Not that I didn’t enjoy it.” He cast her a quick glance, and the softness there made her want to cry all over again. She was still drawn to him but confused about if she should be anymore. “It’s also why I tried to convince you to go to a culinary college far away from here.”

“Far away from you.”

“Yes, from me. From my family. Safe from everything.” He stopped so abruptly she nearly crashed into him. Finally, they’d reached the ground floor.

Vince kept his back against the wall and eased the door open a crack. He scanned the ground, and then his gaze moved upward. “I don’t see him, but since we’re talking about a sniper, it’s not like he’ll be sitting in the open.”

Cassie pressed a fist to her side, hoping it’d help with the stich there. “That’s comforting.”

“He set up on the other side of the building, and it’d take him time to move. We should be okay.” Vince let the door close and spun to face her. He put his hand on the side of her neck and peered into her eyes as if he were trying to silently convey something he didn’t know how to say with words. A tornado of emotions rose up, and she didn’t know which one to grab on to, or if she even could hold on to one for more than a couple of seconds before the rest swept her away.

“This might get rough. Stick close as we move around cars, no stopping, no straight line.” He ran his fingers down her arm and gave her hand a quick squeeze before turning back to the door.

She tried to remain plastered to his back without pushing him over. He drew his gun. “Ready?”

No.“Yes.”

They burst out of the door and ran, footsteps slapping the pavement. Cassie’s vision tunneled in on the Jeep. Just a few more feet. The headlights flashed as Vince unlocked it with his key fob.

The glow from the nearby streetlight spilled over them, and while she wanted to hide from the illumination, it also highlighted the dark stain of blood on Vince’s side.

“I should drive so you can stop the bleeding,” she said.

“I’m fi—”

“Just don’t argue for once and let me drive.”

“I guess that’ll be better if I need to shoot, too,” he said, handing over the keys.

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