Predatory Game (GhostWalkers, #6)(80)
“Sit down, baby,” Jess said, his hands gentle as he pulled her onto his lap. “Just rest for a minute while I get Patsy free.”
“She said at least four, Jesse. I only got three.” She pushed the gun onto his lap. “I can’t use this, not again.”
Saber helped Jess cut through the duct tape holding Patsy to the chair. Every movement was painful, but she forced herself to keep going, pulling clothes from a drawer and helping Patsy to put on the soft sweatshirt to cover the terrible marks on her body.
“I can’t stop crying,” Patsy said, collapsing onto her brother’s lap. “I was so scared, Jess. They were going to kill me.” She flung her arms around his neck, sobbing, burying her face against his chest.
“I know, honey,” he said, trying to comfort her and watch the door at the same time. “We’ve got to make a run for it.” He caught Saber’s hand. “Can you do this? I need to know, Saber.”
She forced air into her burning lungs, her throat raw, the taste and smell of blood forever etched into her senses. She nodded. “I’m good. Let’s get Patsy out of here.”
She didn’t wait for his piercing gaze to assess her, afraid she’d collapse. Saber inched her way around the bodies, careful not to touch either of them. They were going to make a run for it. A man in a wheelchair, Saber unable to breathe properly, and Patsy tortured and traumatized. “I never realized what an optimist you are,” she muttered as she peeked around the corner. “We’re clear. Move fast.”
The elevator, which Saber hadn’t known existed, was to the left of the bedroom. It was small and hidden by the long columns that formed arches to frame the art pieces. With Patsy on his lap, Jess powered the chair with fast bursts of speed across the gallery floor while Saber guarded the stairs.
“No wonder you managed to get in so fast.”
“Patsy put in ramps for me at the back entrance because it was easier to maneuver and close to the elevator if I wanted to go up to the second floor.” His gaze met Saber’s over Patsy’s head. He was frowning. Patsy was rocking now, back and forth, making small keening sounds of distress. She looked gray, her skin cold and clammy. I think she’s going into shock.
Who could blame her? Those men were terrorizing her deliberately for information on you. She wouldn’t mind going into shock herself, as battered as she was. She was an assassin, and she’d killed, but not like this, not this brutal, ugly, messy death. She did it with style and no fanfare. Quiet and natural as if it were meant to happen. She even tried to lessen pain and fear for her targets.
Saber felt rather than heard movement. On the stairs, Jesse. Patsy has to be quiet. Get her into the elevator with you and I’ll distract them.
Fuck that. You’re coming with us.
She sent him one telling look. The elevator was going to make noise. No matter how modern, it wasn’t silent when running. The enemy would know and would be standing at the door, blasting away as it opened.
Damn it, Saber. But he was already using powerful strokes to propel the chair down the hall to the small cage. Saber inserted her body between Jess’s and the stairs. She no longer had the gun, but it didn’t matter. Her mind would never take another assault and survive. There had to be another way.
Two men leapt onto the gallery floor, rolling away from each other to take cover behind the massive columns. Before Saber could react, the paintings and sculptures began to shake, the floor undulating. She caught at the banister for support, glancing at Jess in alarm.
Take cover, Saber.
She didn’t have time for much more than dropping down with her hands over her head for protection as sculptures began to fly through the air. Statues and paintings crashed around and into the columns. Pieces of the frames became weapons, hurtling through the air like missiles.
I think this is considered priceless art, Jesse. Saber peered through her fingers. He was destroying Patsy’s art gallery. Glass and plaster whirled in the air so that it created a screen.
Now, Saber. Run. Let’s get out of here. We have a better chance outside. Jess cursed himself for shutting down his team earlier. With the capture of the two locals and Chaleen discovered, neither he nor Ken nor Mari had felt any immediate threat. He cursed under his breath as he directed a painting to slam down over the top of the head of one of the gunmen.
Saber moved fast, her small figure a blur as she came rushing toward him. The elevator door slammed shut and they were moving. Jess counted the seconds it took to get to the first floor—an eternity when the two gunmen had only to run down a flight of stairs. He could only hope that both were so shaken by the strange phenomenon of flying art that they remained where they were for a few moments, although they were professionals. They hadn’t fired blindly, or panicked, either of them.
The door slid open and he propelled the chair out onto the floor of the small room Patsy used as a den. That was the other advantage Jess figured he had. The elevator shaft was hidden in the walls and all the panels appeared to be smooth. Even if the enemy had a house plan, the location of the elevator doors wasn’t included. Patsy had installed the lift within the past year. They wouldn’t have any way of knowing which room the elevator opened into.
“You hanging in there, Pats?” Jess asked, worried about his sister.
Her breathing was shallow and her pulse was racing. Her skin was cold and clammy and she wasn’t even attempting to hold herself up, slumping against him as if she were too exhausted to move.