Relentless

Ben ignored the tearing along his recent wound and the pull at his waist as he hit the guy again. Another shot and he could go right over the metal railing to the bottom. Ben picked the gun instead.

With a hand on the guy’s back, doubling him against the rail, Ben pressed the barrel of his gun against the guy’s shoulder. Against his firing arm.

He was too close, right on top of the attacker. Ben knew if the guy could get his balance or wiped the burning coffee from his eyes, he might be able to perform a punishing tackle or throw. As it was, he just hung there, panting and heaving, but not saying a word.

The heavy door clicked shut behind them and Ben backed up to lean against it. The last thing he needed was Jocelyn coming through the door to rescue him. The coffee had been quick thinking.

Once again, she zigged when he worried she might zag. The zig had made all the difference.

“Who sent you?” he asked, not expecting a response.

The man lifted his head. Coffee ran down his face and red streaks stained his cheeks. Those dead eyes were bloodshot and teary.

Score one for Jocelyn.

“Go to hell.” The attacker no longer held a gun but he had a knife. Probably slipped it out of its sheath as he stood there trying to regain control over his breathing.

Ben remembered the other guy saying the same line and steadied his weapon. “Gun beats knife but try again.”

Rather than take a swing, the guy turned and half slid, half ran down the stairs. His knees buckled and he grabbed for the railing. A squeak rang out as skin rubbed against metal.

Ben was on him. He grabbed the guy’s shirt and they both went down. The bruiser took most of the impact because Ben kept him under him. Legs hit the walls and thudded against the steps. They rolled and the world spun until momentum slammed them against the cement block on the landing below.

Ben heard people talking as they walked up the stairs from the garage below. The door he’d come through creaked open above him. He remembered the attacker’s dropped gun and felt the man beneath him move. Ben scrambled to his knees, trying to locate his gun, then gave up, reaching for the weapon by his ankle.

“Ben, no!”

Jocelyn’s voice broke his concentration. Only for a second, but that was all the attacker needed. He went to his stomach, then used his hands and knees. With his right leg barely moving, he slithered down the steps and right into a crowd of nurses coming up.

They screamed and shifted out of the way, but he rammed right into them. Grabbed one and hid half behind her as he dragged her toward the ground. He looked out from behind her waist as she screamed in terror.

Ben lay half on his side, shifting the gun and trying to get a clean shot off. But there was no way to hit the guy without injuring the women.

He swore as the attacker turned the corner and kept going. Ben got to his feet and stared down the spiraling staircase in time to see the attacker dump the woman on the step, then run into another crowd of people.

Out of air and with energy reserves failing thanks to the repeated injuries, Ben fell hard on his butt and leaned against the wall. He blinked back the pain thumping in his side. Breaths dragged out of his chest and blood seeped out of the wound on his stomach again. He hadn’t got the bad guy but he had managed to tear his stitches.

“Hands up!”

Ben looked up as Jocelyn ran down the steps, her shoes clunking against each step. A security guard followed right behind, trying to catch her, while two more came up from below.

They all converged on the same half floor of steps and watched Ben. Worrying someone might play hero and accidentally shoot him, he raised both hands. “Calm down.”

Two guards stopped to help the women the attacker had knocked over like bowling pins. The guard behind Jocelyn wasn’t giving in. He barreled down, gun up and ready to shoot.

Jocelyn’s gaze locked on him. Ben doubted she saw the guy right behind her. She dropped down beside Ben and ran her hands over his shirt.

He felt her lift the material and look at his stomach. He wanted to reach out to her, but he kept his gaze on the security guard’s gun. “Can you lower that?”

The cloud of fear cleared from Jocelyn’s eyes. She spun around, then leaned over, putting her body in front of Ben’s. “He’s with me.”

* * *

DETECTIVE WILLOUGHBY STOOD next to Connor in the nurses’ break room. The small space had been cleared out and Joel and two uniformed officers manned the door.

More than an hour had passed since the newest attack and Jocelyn’s knees still threatened to give out. She leaned the back of her thighs against one of the tables but that didn’t help. The blood thundered so hard in her brain that every word anyone said came through muffled.