"Presume he did. Safer."
I nodded and texted Quinn. A moment later he replied confirming the building was indeed empty and in the early stages of reconstruction.
We crept down a service lane beside the building, picking our way past bins filled with ripped-out material.
We reached the road. I checked the GPS. Koss seemed to be still in the building, but it was a little less clear now, his "dot" closer to the road. Which could mean he was hiding in an alcove or doorway.
I peered out. It was a straight, flat wall with no alcove or doorway at this end. I could see Quinn waiting by the door. I waved him in, and he disappeared.
Jack took my wrist, tilting the GPS screen so he could see it.
"Hug the wall," he said. "Go slow if you have to. Just stick right to it."
"Because he could be watching through a window."
He nodded. We headed out, me in front, Jack behind. It was about fifty feet to the door. A very long fifty feet at this rate. When I checked the screen again, Koss had moved farther the other way. Had he heard Quinn come in? Or was Quinn letting himself be heard to distract Koss? Impossible to say. I knew only that I'd feel a lot better if that GPS blip moved farther into the building. It didn't.
We were about fifteen feet from the door when I heard the faintest squeak. My brain was still processing the sound when Jack shoved me, saying, "Down!"
I heard the shot. I twisted, weapon up, in time to see a gun pointing from an open second-story window. I fired as it shot again. As we tumbled into the shelter of the entrance, Jack muttered, "Fuck!" and I thought he was referring to the situation in general, until he said it again, the word coming between gritted teeth, sharp with pain. I wheeled to see his hand pressed to his chest.
His hand to his chest. Blood staining his fingers. My heart stopped.
"In," he said, through his teeth.
"You--"
"Inside."
He reached past me with his free hand. The door opened. Quinn got us inside. He saw Jack and whispered, "Oh, hell."
I was on Jack as soon as he got through the doorway, getting him seated, peeling his jacket back and his shirt up, my fingers trembling. Above me, I could vaguely hear Quinn asking what happened, and Jack telling him to stand guard. Jack kept saying it was fine, just fine.
He'd been shot in the chest. He was not fine. He knew that. I knew that.
I finally got his shirt up enough to see the wound. It was off to the side, as far as it could go and still pass through. Still, he'd been shot in the chest.
"Small caliber," Quinn murmured at my ear and I realized he was crouching there, right beside me. "Clean track. Through and through?"
"Seems so," Jack said. "Might have nicked a rib."
"How's your breathing?" Quinn asked.
"Little short. Just impact. Missed the lungs." He inhaled and winced. "Yeah. Hurts like hell. But I can breathe."
Quinn asked another question and Jack answered, but I barely heard. They were both so calm, as if assessing the damage to a mark. I wanted to shout at them. Shake them. Jack had been shot. In the chest.
"We need--" I could barely get the words out, breath short, as if I'd taken a bullet to my lungs. "Doctor. Need to get him--"
"No," Jack said. "That's what Koss wants. I'm fine. Go on."
"You're not--"
"I'm fine. For now. You know that." He leaned in, hand gripping mine, voice lowering. "Nadia . . ."
I wanted to tell myself that I wasn't overreacting. That Jack's calm was just shock. But Quinn was equally calm, on his feet now, waiting to go after Koss.
I was panicking, which was what Koss was hoping for. Earlier, he'd scoffed at my relationship with Jack, how it made us weak. I was doing exactly what he expected. Freaking out at my wounded lover's side while he escaped.