Beyond Limits (Tracers #8)(38)

Blood smears on the railing. He didn’t want to think about what that meant.

Ten.

He focused on his battle plan. Two stairwells. Two exfil routes.

Eleven.

Derek yanked open the door and rocketed down the hall.





* * *





Wind howled against the building, whipping her hair into her eyes and flattening her flush against the wall. She tipped her head back against the concrete and clutched her gun in the two-handed grip she’d learned at the Academy.

She strained to listen. When the gusts subsided, she heard the bleats of traffic below. But no footsteps. Not a sound or a shadow to betray Rasheed’s location.

She stepped sideways, staying as close to the wall as possible. She’d never been afraid of heights, but twelve floors up with only a four-foot concrete wall separating her from certain death, it was hard to remember that. She trained her attention on the space immediately to her right, the helicopter-size parking spot that right now was empty. A wall of windows looked out over the helipad, and the late-day sun illuminated a trio of women on treadmills.

A scuff of footsteps, and her nerves jumped. She held her breath. Every instinct told her he was around the corner, lying in wait, planning his escape. He’d make a run for the other side, break his way into the building, and grab a hostage if needed on his way to the other stairwell.

Take him alive.

She adjusted her grip on her gun. Her hand was crimson with blood, and her forearm was on fire. Heat radiated up from the roof, and she felt the sun-baked concrete through the soles of her shoes.

Another scuff of footsteps. He was nearing the corner, getting ready to make a dash for the far door. She glanced at the women behind the glass. With their ears stuffed with plastic and their gazes glued to the TV, they were oblivious to the danger only a few feet away.

Elizabeth took a deep breath. She gripped her gun, whispered a prayer, and swung around the corner.

“FBI! Drop the weapon!”

He crouched beside the building like a panther waiting to spring.

“Drop it!”

He rose slowly to his feet. Sun glinted off the blade in his hand. His dark gaze narrowed, and he moved toward her.

“Drop the weapon.” Her voice shook. “Hands above your head.”

“LeBlanc, you copy?”

Torres. She ignored him.

“LeBlanc?”

She pointed her gun at his center body mass, as she’d been trained. Take him alive. Her heart beat uncontrollably as she stepped closer, just out of his reach.

“On the ground. Now.”

His gaze darted across the helipad. She felt him analyzing, weighing his options. Would she have the courage to pull the trigger?

To her left, a flash of movement. Derek shot across the rooftop like a missile. Bodies smacked to the ground. The knife skittered across the pavement as Elizabeth rushed forward with her handcuffs.

“Check for weapons!” she shouted as Derek flipped him onto his stomach and wrestled his arms behind his back.

Elizabeth snapped the cuffs on as Rasheed squirmed and cursed. Derek roughly searched him for weapons.

Elizabeth’s radio squawked. She ignored it.

“He’s clear.” Derek yanked him to his feet. He eyed Elizabeth, taking in her torn jacket and bloodied arm. He grabbed Rasheed by the shirtfront and shoved him backward, cursing. Rasheed attempted a head butt. Derek popped him in the jaw, and his head snapped back.

The radio continued to squawk, and then came the steady thrum of an approaching helicopter. Swirls of dust kicked up around her, stinging her eyes.

She glanced at the chopper. “Is that ours?” she yelled over the noise.

“News!” Derek shouted.

Panic shot through her. “We have to interrogate this man! We can’t have his face on TV. Wave them off!”

The helo swooped closer, creating a mini-tornado of dirt and debris.

Derek grabbed Rasheed and hauled him to the nearest door. Elizabeth tried to open it, but it was locked. She cast a frantic look across the helipad. The treadmill users were standing at the window now, staring slack-jawed at the unfolding scene. The chopper dipped lower, kicking up more and more dust, and she realized it was trying to land practically on top of them.

Derek stepped onto the helipad and waved them off.

Elizabeth glanced at Rasheed, who was inching back from her. Their gazes locked. She stared into his eyes, and an icy fist closed around her heart as realization dawned.

Time slowed down.

“No!” she screamed, lunging after him, grasping for his arm, his jacket, anything.

But she was too late, and he hurled himself over the wall.





Chapter Eleven





Gordon took over the hotel’s security headquarters as a makeshift command center. Agents in plain clothes and SWAT gear crowded into the space, sucking up all the air.

Elizabeth spotted Derek on the far side of the room watching a row of video monitors. He stood rigid, arms crossed over his chest, and he looked to be narrating events for an agent who was furiously taking notes.

His gaze homed in on her. After a trip to the nearest urgent-care center, she’d spent two hours being debriefed and then another hour at the morgue. She hadn’t stopped to take a breath, and the events of the last four hours tumbled through her head.

“LeBlanc, Torres.”