Page 63 of Her Reluctant Hero
“They’re the most practical things I have.”
“God help us.” He shoved his gun into the front pocket of his cargo pants and hefted the duffel. “Go. Stairs.”
“Won’t they expect that?”
“They don’t know we know they’re coming.” God, he hoped. “Element of surprise.”
She raced down the hall toward the stairway door, but he stepped in front of her before she could open it.
“Just in case,” he muttered and pushed open the door that made too much noise. He checked the stairwell, then glanced over his shoulder at the elevator bank before ushering her ahead of him.
She headed down the first flight, grasping the rail, stumbled on the second flight, snatched off her shoes while she was still moving and continued down barefoot.
She started breathing heavily around the fifth flight, coughing at the sixth.
Ten more to go. Shit.
“Just—my breath—a second,” she panted, leaning over the rail. She looked down, groaned, and stepped away from the rail.
Above them, a door opened and closed like a damned alarm.
“No time,” he muttered, grabbed her arm and started hauling her down the stairs so her feet struggled to keep up.
“Alex,” she protested and started coughing again.
He touched his fingertip to her mouth when he heard footsteps quicken on the stairs above them. Fuck. He rounded the staircase to the next exit door, shoved it open and pushed her out onto the carpeted hallway.
“Where?” she asked breathlessly.
He wished he could trust the elevator. Instead, he dragged her to the other end of the hall, the other stairwell, pressing the elevator buttons as he passed. Hopefully the men following them would think they’d taken the elevator.
He entered the other stairway cautiously, then fished out his phone, Isabella still plastered to his side. He could feel her heart trying to beat its way out of her chest.
“Where are they?” he asked Lionel without preamble, presuming the man was still in the security booth.
“Ninth floor,” the older man said. “They’ve split. One went into the elevators, one went down the stairs.”
“There were three,” Alex said.
“I don’t see the third guy, and I don’t know how long I can stay here.”
“Yeah, I get it,” Alex said. “I’ll call you when we’re out.” If they got out. He flipped the phone closed without waiting for an answer. Nine flights. Shit. They were bound to figure out this stairwell soon.
“How’s your balance?” he asked Isabella, eyeing the rail.
“You’re kidding.”
“You want to run the rest of the way?”
She looked down into the stairwell and swallowed hard. “I don’t know.”
“Try.” It wasn’t a suggestion.
She climbed up to sit on the rail, clutching her shoes and purse to her chest. She slid down a bit, then caught herself with a soft cry of surprise. Before he could chide her, she let go and slid to the bottom of the flight. She staggered a bit when she landed, but went to the next rail and did it again.
When he caught up to her three flights later, she was flushed and suppressing nervous giggles, but her heart thundered beneath his touch. He could see her pulse bouncing in her throat.
“Okay?” he asked.
