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  He pried open the steel door, glanced down the empty hallway, and hung a left. The stairwell sign illuminated the end of the corridor and he took long strides until he reached the exit. Shoving it open, he entered the stairwell.

  Screech! Screech! Screech!

  Sirens blared in the concrete enclosure. Fuck! She hadn’t told him about the alarm. He gripped the keys tight in his palm and leaped down the stairs three at a time. The constant circling of steps whizzed through his vision, throwing a wrench in his equilibrium. He reached the parking-garage floor just as voices blared through the stairwell. He pressed the Lock button on the key fob. Sharp honks sounded in the distance.

  Where the hell was her car? He broke into a run going down the ramp, but the car’s horn grew more distant. Fuck it. The building would be on lockdown any minute. He’d have to go on foot. He took another ramp to ground-level parking, leaped over the open ledge, and landed in the grass.

  Flashlights bobbed along the side of the building where he’d landed.

  “Arrêtez!”

  He wheeled around and charged through the bushes. His lungs burned in his chest. If he didn’t get to a vehicle or cab soon, he’d collapse. Getting tasered had had far worse effects than he’d ever imagined.

  He rounded the corner and the street loomed before him. Stomping his feet into the grass, he sprinted for the road. A car parked at the side of the street in front of the building flashed its brights. He frowned and stared at the silver Malibu.

  The horn blared and the vehicle rolled forward. The driver flung the passenger door open. “Get in, you crazy sonofabitch!” Rhett’s slicked-back brown hair and impatient jawline were illuminated in the interior light.

  Disbelief slowed Brock’s pace, and his jaw loosened. “Rhett? What the hell are you doing here?”

  Hearing shouts from the corner of the building, he leaped into the front seat, pulling the door closed behind him. He stared at his friend.

  “Saving your sorry ass.” Rhett chuckled then winced. “You look like shit, dude.”

  He grunted and buckled his seatbelt as Rhett peeled away from the hospital. “We don’t have much time. We need to get to Dani.”

  “Do you know where she is?”

  “Yeah. I need a GPS though.”

  Rhett handed him his phone and Brock typed in the address he’d committed to memory. It mapped their route. Ten miles. He sat back and dragged his hands over his face then scrubbed at the spot where he’d ripped out the IV.

  “What happened?”

  “They almost injected me with the virus. I’m surprised I’m alive at all.” He turned toward Rhett, still reeling to find him here, in Paris. “What are you doing here and how’d you find me?”

  “I grabbed a plane last night. Given the severity of this case it was easy to convince my boss I’d be an asset to the investigation. I answered the phone as you were being attacked. I heard glass shattering and then someone shouting instructions about which hospital to take you to. I just got here and there you were, streaking from the side of the building. I didn’t even have to figure out how I’d get you out of there.”

  Relief loosened the strain in Brock’s body. Just knowing that he wasn’t alone, that someone was here, fighting with him—an FBI agent no less—gave him newfound hope they’d find Dani and all of them would survive this mess.

  He clapped Rhett on the shoulder. “Pretty sure I owe you more than a drink right now.”

  Rhett smirked. “How about a first-class ticket back to San Diego after we pick up Dani?”

  “I might be able to swing that with my dirty money.”

  Rhett scowled. “You’re going to say that every time I collect a debt, aren’t you?”

  He shrugged. “It’s more fun that way.”

  “Sit back and catch your breath. I need to phone in some backup from the locals.” Rhett pulled out a different phone from his jacket pocket and barked orders into the mic. Brock clutched the dash as they whizzed by the Eiffel Tower. Only hours ago, Dani had been in his arms. Only hours ago, dozens of people had been gunned down and she’d been kidnapped.

  He had help, but this was far from over.

  CHAPTER 21

  Dani stared at the clock on her phone. Almost 1:45 a.m. Tears trickled down her cheeks. She pressed the back of her hand to her nose and mouth to stifle a sob. Brock was dead. It was the only explanation. Nothing short of death or a life-threatening injury would keep him from her when she needed him most. She lowered her face to her knees in the darkness. Everything seemed so trivial now. She’d hated him for years after he cut her out of the Domenico Vitali heist. She’d had every right to be angry, but at the end of the day, she knew in her heart he’d move heaven and earth for her. Wasn’t that all that mattered? Didn’t that prove his devotion?

  She’d never have a second shot with Brock because he’d died putting his life on the line for her. She buried her face between her knees and squeezed her hands into fists. She never should have called him. Shouldn’t have let him get tangled up in this. Rage blazed through every cell in her body. She’d find out who’d hurt him and make them pay.

  But she couldn’t do it from the custodian closet. Sucking in a breath and swiping the moisture from her cheeks, she got to her feet. Her eyes burned from the makeup that had ran into them. She blinked until the sensation abated and reached for the door handle.

  She hadn’t dared turn on the light in the closet. Even though she held an assault rifle, fear tickled her spine. She’d kill someone if it came down to it, but the guards had a lot more experience with handling weapons than she did. She curled her hand around the gun’s handle and eased the door open an inch. She examined the long corridor through the crack. Empty. Pushing the door open, she slipped out. The door creaked, and she grimaced and let it close slowly. A light flickered down the hall and dragged her attention to the sign above the stairwell. She wouldn’t chance taking the elevator and running into another guard. Meeting up with Ubrigg wouldn’t be so bad, though. Not while she was armed to shit.

  She padded down the hall keeping the gun up in front of her. Her breath matched her stride, which brought her to the exit. Bumping her hip against the metal door, she eased it open. The metal cried out and she sunk her teeth into her tongue.

  The cold concrete floor penetrated the balls of her feet. She rose onto her tiptoes and edged her way to the stairs. If she moved quickly, she might get out before Ubrigg returned. Doubt took hold of her as she descended. If she left the building, she’d have no clue where to look for Brock or who’d taken him.

  First things first—she’d get to a phone and call Milo and Rhett. They’d know what to do. She dropped the hand supporting the base of the gun to her dress and lifted the material. The heavy weapon hung near her side as she bounded down the flights of stairs. She hit the second-floor landing and caught her breath before turning to the next flight, which would take her to ground level. As she coasted down the last flight of stairs, the ground-floor door swung open. She snapped her gaze from her feet and lifted the weapon at her side. Ubrigg’s smug smile morphed into a snarl. He’d caught her.

  * * *

  “Man, slow the hell down!”

  Brock ignored Rhett’s warning as he skulked along the side of the building. Pellets of rain landed on his bare shoulders and chest. The wind had picked up and the swirling breeze puckered his skin despite the fact that he wasn’t the least bit cold.

  He was pissed.

  Rhett’s elbow jabbed him in the side. Brock stopped and wheeled around to face him. Rhett wasn’t a small dude, and being in the FBI, he could probably fight like a ninja, so the fact that he wanted them to work at a snail’s pace and avoid the guards was mind-boggling.

  “Dani’s in there. Ubrigg will be back by now, and he’ll be pissed I stood him up. The only reason he didn’t kill her before is because he wanted the flash drive.” He shook off the drops of water that rolled over his shoulder. “So tell me why you want to wait?”

  Rhett
tipped his head to the side. With the outside light attached to the building shining brightly over their heads, Brock could make out the annoyed pucker in Rhett’s chin. “I’m the only one with a gun. I’d prefer if you didn’t get your eager ass shot—if it comes down to getting you or Dani out of here alive, it’s her.”

  Appreciation replaced his irritation. “Good. That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.” He nodded toward the edge of the building and the front entrance. They couldn’t exactly go waltzing through it.

  “How do we get in?”

  Brock took a step back and surveyed the brick wall. The long grass tickled his ankles, and beads of water dampened his socks. Catching sight of a basement window, he took two long strides and dropped down beside it. He roamed his fingers over the edges of the casing. The basement sat above grade level, so the window was fairly large.

  Rhett crouched beside him. “There could be an alarm.”

  “Unless someone’s inside.”

  “I guess we’ll find out.”

  Brock nodded and held out his hand. “Don’t get any ideas, but I’m going to need your shirt.”

  Rhett stiffened. “My shirt? What the hell for?”

  “To break the glass. It’ll make less noise and, as you can see,” he said, gesturing down at himself, “I’m a little short on attire. I’d like to keep my pants if you don’t mind.”

  “Keep your damn pants on,” Rhett grumbled. He whipped the shirt off his chest.

  Brock chuckled and wrapped the material around his elbow then pounded the edge of the glass. After a few blows, it cracked. Moving the shirt so it covered his fist, he knocked on the glass until it splintered into large pieces. A couple fell inside and landed on the floor with a crash. Wincing, he used the shirt to peel away the sharp edges and prevent the rest of the shards from falling and creating more noise.

  He handed Rhett his shirt. “No alarm. We’re in.”

  Rhett shook out the material then fit it back over his head. “Good. You first.”

  “Don’t have to tell me twice.” Hanging onto the frame, Brock lowered himself down. A beam of light passed through the opening over his head. Rhett passed him his phone, with the flashlight lit.

  Taking it, Brock stood back and illuminated the room. Storage cabinets lined one wall and several tables and chairs stacked on top of each other lined the other. Rhett dropped to the ground and glass crunched beneath his feet. Brock wandered to one of the storage cabinets and, holding up the phone, opened the thin metal door.

  The top shelf held Petri dishes of various sizes. Microscopes filled the shelf beneath it, along with a tray of individually capped scalpels. Brock grabbed two of the knives. He put one in his pocket and held the other in his free fist. It was no switchblade, but it could slice and kill just as easily. He handed Rhett back his phone.

  “Good thinking,” Rhett said. “Sorry I don’t have another gun on me.”

  Brock dragged the pad of his thumb down the cool steel. “This’ll do.”

  Rhett led the way out of the storage room and into the hallway. Low-lit fluorescents shone from the ceiling, and Rhett stopped to switch off his flashlight and pocket the device.

  A green-lit sign above a door at the end of the hall caught his eye. Brock nudged him toward the stairwell. “We’ll sweep one floor at a time, starting with the main level.”

  Rhett pulled out his gun and pointed it at the ground as they moved briskly down the hall. Brock slowed when they reached the stairwell, and he peered through the glass window before inching open the door. Not a sound echoed in the cement space. He leaned further inside and looked up at the railings spiraled above each other.

  “All clear.”

  Rhett shoved the door open the rest of the way and followed Brock. They took the stairs two at a time to the main level.

  “Do you have any idea where they’re keeping her?”

  Brock flexed his forearms. Dammit, he should have had her look for another clue while they were on the phone. Dozens of rooms were tucked away in every corner of the fucking building. Finding her without drawing attention to themselves would be like searching for a needle in a haystack—every nook and cranny had to be checked.

  “No. All I know is it looked like a small lab room.”

  “Shit.” Rhett made a face and glanced in the window of one of the doors. “Just the cafeteria. We can keep moving.”

  Creak!

  The loud wail of a door opening bounced through the long corridor. Footsteps slapped against the tile floor. Brock gripped the scalpel and scanned the hallway. He fixed his gaze on the door across from the cafeteria.

  Chambre Électrique

  He nodded at the door and Rhett followed him.

  “Hurry, they’re getting closer,” Rhett whispered.

  Brock turned the knob and slipped inside with Rhett at his heels. He closed the door but left it open a slit. The footsteps grew louder. “She called him on Facebook Messenger and beat the shit out of Romy with a fire extinguisher and tied him up. She’s here somewhere.”

  A smile split Brock’s mouth, and he pressed his lips together to stop the hoot of laughter from rolling off his tongue. She’d defeated an armed guard with a fire extinguisher.

  That’s my girl.

  Pride swelled in his chest. More than ever, his body craved to cradle her in his arms. The action could have cost her her life, and maybe later he’d scold her for it. But for now, she was away from Ubrigg’s wrath and that was all that mattered.

  “I’ve been pacing the main level from corner to corner, sir. No one has entered or left the building.” A man dressed head to toe in a black security uniform stomped past the door. He carried an assault rifle across his chest, just like the shooter from the Eiffel Tower. Ubrigg’s white lab coat flapped behind him as they moved toward the stairwell Brock and Rhett had come from.

  Rhett shifted at his side. “We should confront them.”

  Brock held his hand in the air. “No. He’s got an assault rifle. We’ll be gunned down as soon as they see us. We’re better off doing this quietly.” He propped open the door with the toe of his boot so he’d hear if they returned.

  Rhett grinned. “Look who’s being a Patient Peter now.”

  “I’m relieved they don’t have her. But we need to find her before they do.”

  Dani’s delicate voice coasted down the hall to his ears. Brock stiffened. A vortex of fear opened in his gut.

  They had her.

  Brock snapped his stare to Rhett, who raised his eyebrows in question—as if any other woman would be there right now.

  Brock nodded. “It’s her.” His throat ached as he spoke the words.

  Rhett’s hand rested on his shoulder. “Good. This’ll be over in a few minutes.”

  He ground his molars together. At least they didn’t have to continue searching the building. All they had to do was get a leg up on them.

  He eased the door shut and moved to the electrical box. Flipping open the metal door, he studied the breakers. “I say we cut the power. One of them will come to check the breakers and we can make our move.”

  Rhett pumped his fist. “I like the way you think,” he said, as he covered half the breakers with one hand. “We need to make this look random, so let’s hit all the switches at once.”

  Brock stuffed the knife into his pocket and covered the remaining breakers with his fingers. “One, two, three.” They flipped each fuse simultaneously and the ruckus of power surrounding them ceased. A black curtain dropped over the room.

  He pulled the knife from his pocket and opened the door. “Let’s move.”

  CHAPTER 22

  “Don’t even think about it. Igor here”—Ubrigg nodded at the large guard—“will kill you before you can get a shot off.”

  Dani shifted her gaze to the hulking mountain of a man in the doorway next to Ubrigg. He wore a black knitted cap over his forehead and black security garb that matched Romy’s.

  A tremor consumed her body, rattling the metal in
her hold. She locked her jaw and fought the avalanche of rage that threatened to overtake her common sense. She wanted to blow them both away. Even without Brock, she had a lot to live for. Serena and her sweet baby niece or nephew needed her.

  She’d escaped once already—Ubrigg wouldn’t be dumb enough to allow that to happen again. Whatever she did, she couldn’t let them detain her. She had to walk out of this building. Now.

  “C’mon, Ms. Metcalf. You’re a smart woman. Hand over the gun.”

  She let the weapon hang across her chest and moved her hand away from the trigger. Raising one hand in the air, she kept her other on the base of the barrel.

  “You’re right. I am smart. Which is why I’m not going to hand over the gun,” she said, cocking her eyebrow.

  Ubrigg rested one loafer on the bottom step. He removed his glasses, lifted his lab coat and cleaned the lenses, then returned them to his face. Every ounce of him exuded confidence.

  “I can’t let you leave. Not until I have my formula.”

  A tiny balloon of hope swelled in her abdomen. Did that mean he hadn’t seen Brock? “I don’t have it. You know that.”

  “Yeah, and your boyfriend didn’t show at our meeting point. Why? Perhaps he decided to sacrifice you and give the formula to another party to help destroy a portion of humanity.”

  She shook her head. “He wouldn’t do that. There must be a mistake.”

  “I’ve tried to call him to no avail.”

  “Then someone else has him and he’s in danger.” Her voice rose on the last words. She swallowed to still the rising anxiety in her chest. If she got skittish, they might just kill her for the hell of it.

  Ubrigg pursed his lips, and he rocked his knee from side to side as he studied her. “If that’s the case, you’re of no use to me.”