Page 37 of On the Chase
“They won’t hear us back here over the bikes,” he responded, his voice low. “Lex. Here.”
Lexi swiveled an ear toward them. After holding her defensive stance for another moment, the dog reluctantly turned and moved to Hugh’s side. Grace was impressed by Lexi’s bravery. She’d been willing to face off with whomever was about to come around that corner, while Grace was cowering behind Hugh, her brain screaming at her to run away. She dropped a hand to Lexi’s back, taking courage from the feel of her warm fur. Without taking her attention off the far corner, Lexi thumped her tail against Grace’s leg in response.
“Is it the bald biker, do you think?” His flat stare flashed through her mind, and she tensed even more. “He was staring at us.”
“It’s not Theo,” Hugh responded grimly. “We know that much.”
Her heart pounded, and it suddenly became hard to breathe. Not knowing who was around the corner, who Lexi saw as such a threat, was worse than facing someone straight on.
“We’ll go in the back door and cut through the shop,” Hugh said very quietly while keeping his gaze forward. “Once we get out front, there’ll be plenty of backup.”
As they rounded the corner to the back of the building, they all turned and hurried toward the door. Even with Hugh and Lexi at her back, Grace felt vulnerable. The urge to look over her shoulder, to check to see who was chasing them, was almost overwhelming. Fighting it down, Grace rushed forward and turned the knob. Her stomach clenched when the door refused to open. It was locked.
She turned to Hugh, whispering frantically, “Can you pick it?”
His tools were already in his hands as he crouched in front of the door. “Oh, so all of a sudden you like my lockpicking skills?”
Lexi’s growl ramped up a notch, her body stiff and pointed toward the corner they’d just rounded, and Grace gritted her teeth. “When you’re not using them to walk in on me when I’m in the bathroom, yes. Why are we even talking about this at this moment? Can’t you just do your lockpicking thing quietly without—”
“Got it.” He opened the door. Grabbing her hand, Hugh ducked through the doorway, tugging her along behind him. He had to hiss a command at Lexi before she abandoned her self-appointed post and followed them into the shop. As soon as the dog’s tail cleared the entry, Grace closed the door and turned the lock that Hugh had just opened.
It took several seconds to become accustomed to the dim shop after the bright sunshine outside. The sole window, set next to the door they’d just entered, was filthy, which didn’t help. Her eyes finally adjusted, and the shadows lightened, revealing large machines that crowded the room. Just one was running with a rumbling roar, spitting out large sheets of paper into a receiving tray every ten seconds or so. Scattered boxes filled the rest of the space, leaving only a couple of narrow pathways. One went to the front door, and the other crossed the room to what looked like an office, judging by the little Grace could see through a half-opened door.
Hugh leaned down to speak directly in her ear. “The owner spends most of her time in there.” He gestured toward the office. “She’s almost completely deaf, so we should be able to slip through here without her ever knowing we took a detour.” Despite the circumstances, she shivered when his lip grazed her ear.Stop it,she told herself firmly.There’s a time and a place to get all lusty, and this isn’t it.
She followed Hugh, Lexi at his side, as he moved quietly toward the front door. Glancing nervously over her shoulder, Grace eyed the back door. What had seemed like an insurmountable barrier just a minute ago seemed flimsy now that it was the only thing between them and danger. As she started to turn back around, a movement caught her attention. She refocused on the door, trying to figure out what—if anything—had shifted. To her horror, the knob turned.
She slapped a hand over her mouth to muffle her squeak of alarm, but it was still loud enough to make Hugh spin around. She waved frantically at the door, and his expression turned ferocious. He caught her hand and tugged her forward. They wove through the boxes and printers toward the front door, moving quickly.
There was a smashing sound, loud enough to hear over the printer, and Grace ducked, swallowing a scream. Twisting around, she saw the butt of a gun retreating from the new hole it had just made in the windowpane next to the back door. A gloved hand slipped through the opening, reaching toward the door lock.
Hugh ducked behind one of the bulky machines, pulling Grace and Lexi with him. He crowded them toward the wall, keeping his body between them and the path. They crouched in the dust, the smell of oil and hot paper thick around them, and Grace tried not to think about huddling behind that dumpster by the police station or next to her car after the shooting. Once again, she was hiding, thanks to Martin Jovanovic and his army of killers. Rage began to burn away the edges of her fear.
Hugh swore under his breath.
“What’s wrong?” Her words were barely a whisper.
“Nothing we can’t handle.” He gave her a conspiratorial look.
She frowned at him. Her heart was beating so hard it felt as if it were about to break out of her chest, and he was doing his jokey-Hugh thing. “I’d still feel better knowing what you were swearing about.”
“No gun.” He shrugged, but the tension in his body showed that he wasn’t as nonchalant as he was pretending. “Didn’t think I’d need it at the kennel.”
Lexi crouched, ready to spring, and growled. Grace strained her ears, listening for any sound, wishing for Lexi’s keen hearing. All she heard was the mechanical thump of the printer and muted rumbles from the motorcycles outside. There was no way to tell if the man had managed to get inside, or how close he was, or if he was right on the other side of the printer, ready to pounce… If he’d followed the path toward the door, he’d see them. She knotted her hands into fists, fighting the urge to grab the back of Hugh’s shirt. Clinging to him wouldn’t help.
“Stay here,” Hugh said so quietly that she could barely make out the words.
Grace’s stomach tried to turn itself inside out. What was he about to do? It made her want to grab him even more, although this time, it would be to hold him back. He was going to get himself killed, all because he was trying to protect her.
Before she could protest, the huge, bald, leather-clad man stepped forward. He visibly started when he noticed them, but recovered quickly, swinging around to point a silver revolver at them. Hugh launched forward, his shoulder hitting the man right in his potbelly and driving the air out of the biker’s lungs in awhoosh. They collided with another machine before falling to the ground, the gun hitting the floor with a clatter. Hugh twisted as he landed, ending up on top of the other man. He got in two punches before they rolled, and the biker got the upper hand. As the two men wrestled, faces red and muscles straining, Lexi barked wildly, circling the pair on stiff legs.
Grace knew she needed to help, but how? She stared at the interlocked figures, trying to think of some way to assist Hugh, but they were so close together and moving so quickly that any kick or punch would just as likely connect with Hugh, rather than their opponent. She scanned the area for a heavy object she could use as a weapon, and she saw the gun lying just feet from the bad guy’s hand. She rushed toward it just as the men rolled, tripping her. Landing on all fours, she ignored the sting of her hands and knees and scrambled to grab the gun. As her fingers closed around it, she heard a yell from the fighting men, and her wrist was caught in a cruel grip.
“No you don’t,” the biker snarled, his grip tightening until she cried out.
With a roar, Hugh flipped them over, knocking the stranger’s hand loose in the process. “You! Don’t! Touch! Her!” He punctuated each word with a punch to the biker’s face. Clutching the gun, Grace scrambled back until her back pressed against a stack of paper boxes. She aimed the pistol at the stranger, but Hugh blocked her aim. He had the upper hand, anyway, and she was intensely relieved that she probably wouldn’t have to use the gun.
As she watched, her heart pounding fast enough to make her head spin, Hugh hammered his fist into the biker’s face one last time. The other man didn’t swing back, didn’t try to turn them over again. Instead, he had his hands up as if to protect his face. Hugh, his expression furious, pushed up to a crouch and manhandled the biker over onto his stomach.
