Page 12 of Stolen Goods
This was a bakery. There had to be knives somewhere, some sort of weapon. Thad glanced around the office, cataloguing what he saw. A desk covered with pens and papers. Shelves loaded with what seemed to be surplus supplies, all labeled—sugar, oil, nuts, pans, aluminum sheets, flour—
Flour?
The beginning of a plan stirred in his mind. Thad put the phone in his pocket and peered through the open door into the hallway, remembering the fan he’d seen sitting in the corner of the kitchen as he’d made his way to the office. Sure enough, it was on. The air-conditioning was either broken or simply not enough in this abrasive southern summer heat.
He’d have to be fast.
Lightning fast.
A buzz gathered beneath his skin, the stirrings of adrenaline. Danger always made his instincts sharp, and his thoughts even sharper. The energy built and built, a rising tide. Thad dropped his hands from his ears, his fingers twitching with anticipation. He hefted the bag of flour into his arms—Jesus! No wonder Jo has such toned arms—and returned to his spot by the door. Addison’s voice traveled through the opening. He peered cautiously back into the hall, leaning his head a little farther out this time.
“Please, please,” she begged softly as she backed away, tailbone digging into the counter with nowhere else to go. Thad winced. She looked around, searching for aid—searching for him—as words tumbled from her terrified lips. “Did I food poison someone? Is that what this is about? Was it the black wedding cake? It was my first time using that frosting mix. I knew black was a bad omen!”
If not for the dread laced through her tone, he might have rolled his eyes.
Keep talking, he thought as he meticulously tore the top of the flour open and crawled through the door. The hallway provided just enough cover. He couldn’t see the Russians, which meant the Russians couldn’t see him, and Addison was too frightened to notice.
She continued, unaware of his presence. “I’ll pay for the medical bills, I swear. I didn’t mean for anyone to get sick. I have savings. I mean, not a lot, but some. Enough! I’m a good person!”
“Where’s the man you were with?” a deep voice grunted.
Addison swallowed, blinking rapidly. She swiveled her head back and forth. “I don’t know. He vanished. He—” She stopped short as her gaze landed on Thad, and did a double take. He quickly waved his hands, the clearest signal he could think of. She jerked her face forward and pressed her palm to her chest in obviously feigned shock. “He stole my phone! That bastard!”
Oh, good Lord.
She sounded as if she were auditioning for a soap opera.
A gun cocked in response.
Guess that’s my cue…
Not completely sure what he was doing but confident he would pull it off, Thad jumped out from his hiding spot in the small hallway and flipped the bag of flour upside down before the fan. A plume of white dust immediately exploded across the kitchen. Shots fired in his direction, bright sparks of flame in the center of an ivory cloud. He dove headfirst to avoid the bullets. Theypinged off stainless steel, raining down around him as he somersaulted across the floor. Using the massive center table for cover, he rolled to his knees, then reached up and yanked Addison to the floor.
“Knives?” he barked.
She stared at him blankly, face frozen in shock.
“Knives!” he repeated forcefully.
“Oh!” Her entire body jolted with understanding, and she pointed to a drawer about three feet down.
“Stay here and stay low.”
The flour was already starting to settle as he slid the drawer open. Blindly grabbing for blades, Thad wrapped his fingers around the first handle he found.
It was a butter knife.
You have got to be kidding me.
He reached up again. One of the Russians stalked around the edge of the table, gun first. There was no time to question. Thad lunged, slashing at the man’s wrists with whatever he’d grabbed, hoping it was sharp this time. The man grunted and dropped his gun. Thad stared down at the object in his hand, smirking at the ten-inch blade.Now that’s what I’m talking about.He kicked the gun toward Addison to get it out of the way. She stared at it in scandalized horror as it slowed to a stop next to her foot. Thad groaned inwardly. Before he had a chance to tell her to pick the damn thing up, a hand grabbed him by the throat and an arm snaked around his waist.Note to self—never forget the disarmed Russian at your back.
Thad slammed his head into what felt like solid rock, wincing as fireworks exploded behind his eyes. The man let go, dazed by the direct blow to the face. Thad took the advantage and spun. He dug the knife deep into the Russian’s gut, then ducked as the second man fired another shot. Thad rolled across the ground, swiping the free gun from the floor, then jumped to his feet. Firing in the general direction of the second attacker, he released the entire clip. The man went down, but Thad had no idea how long he’d stay there.
He spun, finding Addison’s frightened eyes. “Back door?”
A fist grabbed his shirt before Addison could answer and Thad stumbled back, slamming into a rock-hard chest.Reminder—never forget the disarmed, stabbed, annoyingly sturdy Russian at your back.
He threw his elbow behind and landed a hit to the man’s gut. The Russian groaned but tightened his hold, crushing his forearm against Thad’s throat, starting to cut off air. He dug his chin into the man’s elbow to keep his airway open as he searched for an escape. The assailant was too large to toss, too strong to strike. Thad reached for the man’s fingers and pulled them back, but the Russian didn’t budge. He lifted his arms over his head, found the man’s face, and pushed his thumbs into his eyes. From this angle, the pressure wasn’t as strong, but the move would still hurt like hell. The Russian tightened his grip and leaned back. Thad’s toes dragged along the floor.
