Page 78 of Run

“We’re clear,” Harvard snapped. “Coming through.”

“Dimitri,” David called. “Come over but watch your back. Have you got eyes on Ryan?” He shouted orders as he made his way around to the other side of the car.

The wooden door to the private passageway they’d carried Elle down had swung shut. David wanted to empty his gun into the wood. He breathed deeply. Slowly. Evenly. Until his heart rate slowed again.

Patience. Planning. Pressure.

The three rules he lived by. First, you waited while you sorted out your course of action, then you exerted pressure where needed. He’d get Elle. Soon. But first, his team.

David tore his eyes from the door—and spotted a boot-clad foot sticking out from under a downed office sign. He clambered over the hood of the car and shoved the wooden panel aside to reveal the person lying underneath.

Ryan.

He lay on his back. Unconscious. Blood pouring from his head and two bullet wounds to his chest.

“Man down,” David shouted, stripping off his sweater, then his shirt. He pressed the cotton T-shirt to the holes in Ryan’s chest. “We need an ambulance.”

Dimitri rounded the car. “Hell, no.” He knelt beside David. “Pulse?”

“Haven’t checked.” Pressing Ryan’s chest hard, he worked to stop the bleeding. “We need an ambulance now,” he called.

“Already rung; the phones are working again. Somebody must have been jamming the signal,” Harvard said as he appeared behind Dimitri. “Shit. Head wound.” He got down on his knees and gently checked Ryan’s head. “We got a pulse?”

“It’s there, but it’s faint.” Dimitri sat back on his heels. “I can’t believe this is happening. Ryan, hell. How am I going to tell Megan? She’s going to think this is her fault because she wasn’t here to help.” He leaned over Ryan. “You’d better live, you food-stealing bastard,” he said, devastation written large on his face.

“I’m worried about this head wound,” Harvard said. “I’m not sure if the bullet went in or skimmed. There’s a lot of blood, and I don’t want to risk making things worse by moving him too much. Gimme your shirt, Dimitri.”

He unzipped his hoodie, took off his T-shirt, and handed it over. Harvard pressed it to the head wound while Dimitri shrugged back into his hoodie.

“Where’s Elle?” Dimitri said.

“They got her.” David felt the fury—cold and relentless—curl in his gut. “Took off before I could get to them.”

Dimitri clenched his hands into fists. “And the news just keeps getting better. If something happens to Elle too…” He took a deep breath. “What do you need?”

“Right now? To get Ryan to a hospital. After that, I’m going after Elle. What about Megan?”

“Knocked out by the airbag. Two office workers offered to keep an eye on her while I came to back you guys. Far as I can tell, she’s fine, but there might be a concussion.”

David heard the relief in Dimitri’s voice and didn’t blame him for it. “There’s nothing you can do here. Go check on your woman.”

“Ryan—”

“We’ve got this covered,” Harvard said.

With one last pained glance at Ryan, Dimitri jogged off.

“What’s the status on Callum?” David asked Harvard.

“He’s bruised and bloody but otherwise fine. I left him standing guard over one of the guys we pulled out of the car that slammed into us. Other one died in the crash.”

“Does he need backup?” They could send Dimitri if needed. Once he’d checked on Megan.

“He’s got it covered.” Harvard’s jaw tightened. “This is bad.” He jerked his head toward Ryan, who was deathly gray.

“Yeah. We need that ambulance.”

Not only for Ryan’s sake but also for Elle’s. Every minute he was delayed in getting to her put her a minute closer to death. There was absolutely no doubt in his mind that Tommy would kill her and do it bloody. David looked down at the man whose blood covered his hands. Elle couldn’t cope with losing someone else she loved, and Ryan was as much of a brother to her as Marcus ever was, maybe even more so.