Sharpshooter (Shadow Agents 3)

Slade was out of the treatment facility. Mercer hadn’t wanted to let him out yet, but the doctors had said that with continued rehab and counseling—therapy that he could receive as an outpatient—Slade would keep progressing. As a precaution—because Mercer was a man who believed in precautions—a guard was stationed at Slade’s new apartment.

And Gunner was standing in front of Sydney’s house. Like some kind of lovesick fool. She was sleeping. They could talk later. He didn’t have to—

He could smell smoke. Gunner stiffened even as he inhaled—and yes, that was the scent of fire.

The scent was coming from Sydney’s house. As he turned his horrified gaze on her house, he saw the flash of flames on the bottom floor. Flames...

“Sydney!” He ran for her house, rushing up the steps and kicking in the front door. The old lock gave way easily, and he saw the flames inside, growing fast, as they raced around her living room and toward the stairs.

Toward Sydney.

“Sydney!” he yelled again even as he leaped forward. The flames were trying to lash out at him, but he jumped over them and took those stairs as fast as he could. How had the fire started? Why was it spreading so rapidly?

Where was—“Sydney!”

Her door swung open. She stood there, wearing a small pair of shorts and a T-shirt. She was coughing and trying to cover her mouth. “Gun...ner?”

He grabbed her. He hurried toward her bed, snatched up her covers and wrapped them around her. Then he turned back for the door.

The fire was already climbing up the stairs. Gunner hesitated. He wasn’t sure if he would be fast enough to get her through the flames. They were burning so bright and hot.

He backed into her room. Slammed the door shut with his booted heel and whirled to face the window.

Sydney struggled in his arms. “Gunner, I can...” She coughed. “I can help...”

He put her on her feet. Only long enough to shove open her bedroom window and stare down below. A one-story drop. Maybe a broken leg, depending on how he landed. Could be much worse, though, if he—

“I can’t go through that window.” Sydney had backed away. “I can’t jump!”

He caught her arms and pulled her right back against him. “You can’t go down those stairs, baby. You wouldn’t make it.” Not without receiving burns all over her body.

There were tears in her eyes. “I can’t take that drop, I—” Then her eyes widened. Her hands twisted in his grasp, and her short nails dug into his skin. “The storage room down the hall. There’s a lattice leading down from the window there. We can go on that!”

If the lattice held them.

Sydney scrambled and jerked on a pair of sneakers

Giving a grim nod, he grabbed for the blanket and bundled her up once more.

“Gunner, stop, I can—”

He had her in his arms. If the fire was coming, it would get him first.

He rushed down the hallway, holding her tight. The rising smoke was so thick now that every step burned his lungs. He coughed hard, trying to clear his throat and chest. Not working.

Then he was at the other door. Inside that storage room. Carefully, he put her down on her feet. The window didn’t want to open, as if it had been sealed shut, so Gunner just used his fist to break the glass. The glass rained down on the ground, his fingers bled, but he didn’t care. He could see the lattice, just to the side. It looked old and shaky, and he sure didn’t have a whole lot of faith in it.

It wasn’t going to hold them both at the same time, that was for sure. But he’d already planned to get her out first.

She’d dropped the cover. It was smoldering, smoking. Sydney’s glance locked on his.

“Go,” he told her. “Get to safety, and I’ll be right behind you.”

She nodded and then she—kissed him.

He hadn’

t expected the move and it was all too brief. A frantic brush of her lips against his, and then Sydney was climbing through the window holding tight to that lattice.