Page 2 of Fully Loaded

Cold sweat collected between her shoulder blades. They were in her bedroom. Any second a bullet would rip through her back if she didn’t hurry. She crouched, steadied herself on the window frame, and stuck her leg out. The bathroom handle rattled. As she pressed her toes down, the ball of her foot bumped the ledge she sought. Before renting this apartment, she’d made sure there was an alternate way out—old habits died hard.

She climbed the rest of the way out the window and a wave of dizziness assaulted her. She dug her fingernails into the stone at her back and shuffled her feet along the less-than-a-foot-wide ledge. Water splattered on her face and exposed skin, obscuring her vision and making her flesh erupt in goosebumps. She kept her head pressed back against the building, but her gaze swept the tops of the swaying trees and bushes below. If she fell, she’d either land on a bed of branches or on the concrete sidewalk. Raindrops rolled over her cheeks, and she fought the urge to dash them away. The sound of bullets cracking through the bathroom door carried on the wind. She dragged a breath into her lungs and the cold air pushed away her dizziness.

Dani turned her head in the direction she moved. She slid her feet as quickly as she could without losing her balance. The rough stone at her back snagged her silky tank top. Five more feet and she’d be around the corner. Not only would they not be able to tell which way she’d gone, but she’d be out of range of the bullets.

She had to make it.

Bang!

Hinges buckled. They were almost through the bathroom door.

Three more feet.

Bang!

Two more feet.

Crash!

Her ribcage squeezed on a surge of panic, forcing the breath from her lungs. She curled her fingers around the corner of the building and guided her feet around the edge and out of sight. The building now blocked some of the wind and less rain nicked her face, though it didn’t really matter—she was already soaked to the bone. Nearly forty feet separated her from an escape. She needed to get down. But she also needed the drive. She had to stay close enough to see when the intruders left and then circle back for the information. A large sum of money had already been fronted for this job. She couldn’t fail. She’d been warned to keep the drive, which contained top-secret data, on her person at all times. Too bad she hadn’t thought that included while sleeping.

Her chin trembled on a shiver and she clamped her lips together. They’d be outside in minutes, circling the perimeter. If she didn’t get off the ledge, she’d be a sitting duck. She craned her neck and looked above her. No ladder dangled from the side of the building, like it would in some kind of action movie—she was fucked.

Her gaze landed on the nearest balcony. The old lady who lived at the end of the hall would definitely be in bed at this hour. She scurried to the balcony, gripped the icy metal rail, and climbed over. A lone lawn chair lounged on the concrete pad. It didn’t offer much in the way of cover.

A stream of light snapped her attention to the ground. A man charged through the grass, bobbing the flashlight over every shadow. She ducked and pressed her side against the patio door, lifting her chin high enough to track his movements. His back was to her, but if he turned around and looked up, he’d see her. Fear screeched its deafening siren in her ears, and she pressed her palm to her chest to slow her heart rate.

Please, God, don’t let him find me.

She lifted her hand to the patio door’s handle and pulled—the glass glided open silently. Shock froze her to the spot until warmth sailed out of the apartment, coaxing her inside. Thank god not everyone was as paranoid as she was. Her balcony door was permanently locked, and she’d wedged a wooden broomstick along the track.

She stayed low, crawled through the gap and into the living room, and shut the door. Raising herself higher onto her knees, she located the shooter’s head just as he turned in the direction of the old woman’s apartment. She backed out of view and pressed her palms against the tops of her thighs. She’d made it. Now all she had to do was retrieve the drive and head to her getaway car. Serena would call her extreme for having one, but Dani never left anything to chance—not after what had happened.

She always needed a way out.

She inhaled deeply to steady herself, and the musty scents of mothballs, dust, and ten-year-old candy from the dish on the table next to her wafted into her nose.

Meow

Dani jumped out of her skin and slapped her hand to her stomach. A black-and-gray cat sashayed along the couch then leaped to the floor next to her. Its head nudged her hand, and a deep purr rattled from its chest.

“Hey, there.” Dani stroked its back. The satiny fur between her fingers calmed her nerves. God, she hoped they didn’t come here looking for her. The last thing she wanted to do was endanger this poor woman and her sweet cat. The animal climbed onto her lap and kneaded her pajamas with its paws. “Sorry, buddy. I can’t stay.” She lifted the cat, set it on the couch, then rose to her feet. Television chatter floated down the hallway. She followed the cackles of Thelma and Louise and stopped before the threshold to the woman’s bedroom. The kind old lady she often passed in the hall lay flat on her bed, eyes closed, snoring lightly. She didn’t speak a word of English.

Dani skirted back the way she’d come and through the kitchen. The front door beckoned her. She couldn’t hide out here forever—what if they knocked on the door? She couldn’t have the old woman’s death on her hands. Dani brought her eye to the peephole and rested her fingertips on the door. Nothing to see out there. She backed away and her gaze landed on a wooden knife block.

She reached over, pulled out a paring knife, and held the cool, hard steel in her palm. As she unchained the door, the sound of clanking metal made her wince. She pulled open the door and swept her gaze down the hallway toward her unit. Nothing. The men had been quiet enough getting into her apartment that they hadn’t disturbed anyone. The firing of the gun ricocheted through her memory and she realized they’d been using a silencer—the only sound had been bullets ripping through wood.

She entered the hall. A feathery brush against her shins brought her to a halt. The cat darted into the hallway and Dani breathed a curse. She couldn’t chase it. She had to find a way back into her apartment and cause some kind of diversion. One of the men was outside but the other was probably still in her unit, ransacking it. She closed the door softly behind her and her gaze landed on the door directly across the hall.

The electrical room.

She cast a glance down each end of the hall and then shoved the door open. The fluorescent light above hummed and electricity whirred in the tiny space. Turning the power off would conceal her, and if anyone in the building woke, they’d attribute the outage to the storm. She approached the fuse box, set the paring knife on the floor at her feet, and narrowed her eyes at the small print. Using both hands, she flicked off the breakers two at a time. The sound of energy seizing followed each motion. She hit the last breaker and darkness closed in around her. Dread swelled in her stomach and she bent down, picking up the knife.

She pulled open the door. More blackness met her at the threshold. She swallowed the terror climbing in her throat and stepped into the hall. In the absence of the constant drone of electricity, it was dead quiet. Quiet enough that her breath sounded like waves crashing on a shore. She clenched her teeth to stop the tremble of her chin. Water trickled from the wet strands of her hair and rolled down her exposed shoulders to fall on her bare feet. She kept one hand on the wall and the knife thrust in front of her as she moved in the direction of her unit. She had to get in and out—and fast.

But could she stab a man in the process? Her fingers brushed over a door casing and she swept her hand across the rough wood until it landed on the door handle. If her counting of each door she’d passed was correct, this was her unit.

Her blood galloped against her temples. She pushed on the handle and the door glided open without her having to turn the knob. She slid herself inside and closed the door. The old hinges squeaked and every muscle in her body went rigid. The sound of objects hitting the floor in her bedroom reached her ears. The guy inside hadn’t heard the door, but she had to hurry before the other man returned. She might be able to take down one of them, but not two at the same time.