Page 111 of Duty Devoted
“Run.”
We made it ten feet before the fourth man appeared from the lab’s connecting hallway. Charlotte saw him first, shoving me sideways as his weapon came up.
The world exploded into motion and noise.
I hit the wall hard, my already bruised ribs protesting. Charlotte’s push had saved us both from the initial burst, but we were pinned. I raised my Glock, but the angle was wrong, and the shooter had cover.
That’s when Charlotte surprised me.
She grabbed a fire extinguisher from the wall and hurled it at the shooter’s head. He ducked, his aim wavering.
It was all the opening I needed.
The Glock barked twice. The shooter crumpled.
“Nice throw, Doc.” I grabbed her hand again. “Now we really need to?—”
“Tyler Hughes.” The voice came from everywhere and nowhere, echoing through the building’s PA system. Female. Accented. Familiar in a way that made my skin crawl. “We have the building surrounded. Surrender Dr. Gifford, and we’ll let you walk away.”
Charlotte’s fingers tightened in mine. “They know your name.”
Yeah. That was a problem.
“Mr. Hughes,” the voice continued, almost conversational. “You have quite the reputation at Citadel Solutions. Ethan Cross speaks highly of you. As does Logan Kane. It would be a shame if something happened to their protégé.”
My blood ran cold. Whoever this was, they’d done their homework.
“Sixty seconds,” the voice said. “Then we come in shooting. The good doctor’s formula isn’t worth dying for.”
I looked at Charlotte. Her face was pale, but her jaw was set with the same determination I’d seen when she worked through impossible problems in the lab.
“They need me alive,” she whispered. “You could?—”
“No.”
“The probability of your survival increases exponentially if?—”
“I said no.” I checked my magazine. Eight rounds left. Not nearly enough. “We stick together.”
“That’s mathematically inadvisable.”
“Good thing I was never great at math.” I spotted an access panel in the ceiling. “But I’m excellent at improvisation. How do you feel about air ducts?”
“I... what?”
“Thirty seconds,” the voice warned.
I holstered the Glock and cupped my hands. “Climb.”
Charlotte stared at me like I’d suggested she solve an equation in ancient Sumerian. “You want me to?—”
“Twenty seconds.”
“Charlotte. Trust me.”
She placed her foot in my hands, and I boosted her up. She pushed at the panel, her movements clumsy with panic.
“It’s stuck!”
