Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 112001 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112001 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
It was another hall, in another structure. And the air was dry, and smelling of concrete.
A basement? he thought. Likely of the home.
He chose right for no reason at all, and looked for cover as he went along. There were a number of closed doors—
Boom!
As the robotic squad blew another door off its jambs, the banging sound as the steel panel ricocheted off something hard echoed through the hallway. Continuing on with his limp, his breath burned in his lungs, and that left leg seriously lagged. He must go faster. He was prepared to get into a shootout, but he wanted more distance if he could get it and some cover.
As he reached yet another door, something teased at the edge of his consciousness, but he didn’t have time to allow it to come to full cognitive recognition. He entered the passcode, endured an interminable wait, and hit another stairwell and exit.
And then he was back in the house proper. He could tell by the scent of fresh oranges and dishwashing soap—but he was not where he had been let in before.
A kitchen, he thought as he tracked the scent.
Rounding a corner, there was stainless steel cabinetry everywhere, as well as ovens, gas burner ranges, and refrigerators that were professional grade. Crossing the red-tiled floor as quickly as he could, he kept going, emerging out the other side into a small private eating area with a round table. From there, he entered the foyer with the statues, and paused to look back. As there were no immediate sounds of a chase coming for him, he glanced down to assess his wounds.
They were all superficial ones.
Those soldiers with the perfect aim, once they had identified him, had not tried to kill him. And that was when he realized that he had thought he was leading them. Instead, they had chased him… here.
Soft laughter percolated into the space and he pivoted sharply.
At the base of the primary stairway, sitting on the bottom steps, a male with a face that was nearly identical to his own was smiling.
“Did you have a good workout, cousin?” Kurling drawled.
THIRTY-NINE
WE CAN’T STAY here. The air quality is getting worse.”
As Daniel spoke, Lydia glanced down at him. They had come back to the point at which they’d entered the smoky escape tunnel, and to take the pressure off his legs, she and Gus had sat him on the concrete floor. In the unreliable, on/off lighting, she tried to judge his vital signs by how pale his face was and how often he blinked. Which was nuts.
And of course he wasn’t doing well. How could he be?
Gus coughed and paced back and forth. “He’s right. Besides, there’s nothing out there anymore. No more shooting, no explosions—”
“That we can hear,” C.P. cut in.
The woman was standing off to the side of the door Blade had departed from, that gun in her hand held with a relaxed confidence, her eyes locked on the latching mechanism like she expected things to open at any moment.
The air was getting thick with smoke that had backed up into the ventilation system, and though it was nice to think the quality was better down on the ground where Daniel was, she knew his lungs were vulnerable—and she herself was getting light-headed.
They had to somehow get out of the lab, if they were going to survive.
“We’ll go out and clear the area,” she heard herself say. “She and I.”
The protests from the men were immediate—but as she met C.P.’s eyes, the two of them were in perfect accord: Daniel couldn’t run, and out of the three of them who could, Gus was best able to keep Daniel alive.
There was just one thing that needed to be said before she went out there.
Lydia glanced down at her hand. The glass box with the little holes in the top was warm from her holding it, and the creature inside prowled around, pincers working like it was practicing the moves it planned to use as soon as it got a chance to get loose.
With grim intent, she looked at Daniel.
In response, he put up his own palm. “Go. And be careful. I’ll take care of the scorpion.”
His voice was as grave as she’d ever heard it, and she knelt down, staring into his eyes earnestly. “I believe Blade. I don’t understand him, but I believe him. It’s your choice, though. When this is all over.”
Daniel reached up and stroked her face, his thumb lingering on her lower lip. “I will love you from the other side—”
“Don’t say that—”
“—because you’re claimed forever mine.”
It happened so fast. One moment, he was taking the box from her; the next, he released the scorpion and placed the thing right at the base of his throat.
“No! What are you doing!”
Lydia’s voice echoed around as she went for the deadly arachnid—which was stupid considering she wanted him to take the venom. Just not here, not now—