He was supposed to feel sympathetic because Baz had only shot him once? Had only taken out one of his lungs? “What are you doing here?”

He needed to get his hands on him. He could wrestle him to the ground and…what? Get him to HQ? The British Transport Police would show up and he didn’t exactly carry an SIS card on him. They would both get shoved into lockup while things got sorted out.

“I told you. We need to talk.”

That would be a mistake. Baz was a snake. One didn’t sit about and talk to a snake. One stepped on it before it managed to bite. “We have nothing to talk about.”

His smile was back. “I think we do. We need to have a sit-down, and if you don’t give me what I want, I’ll have to do something drastic to convince you. I’ve been watching you. You like the girl. Let’s talk about what happened to the last girl you fancied. Jane. I think that was her name. She was prettier than this one. You’re slumming, mate.”

Damon had been the one to bury Jane. She hadn’t had any family past the one she’d found at The Garden. He’d trained her, hired her to work, allowed her to live in the building. He’d fucked her when it was convenient. He certainly hadn’t loved her, but he’d been fond of the girl. She’d been his responsibility, under his care, and Baz had taken her life because she’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The need to wrap his hands around Baz’s throat was overwhelming. It took everything Damon had not to move on him. He heard the train whoosh in. Penelope would be safe on the train. She would be on her way to the station where Taggart was waiting for them. She could tell him what had happened, and Taggart would come.

And then he could deal with Baz.

“Why don’t we go somewhere quiet and have this talk of yours?” The minute he got Baz out of the crowd, he would pull the knife he had in an ankle strap and slit the fucker’s throat.

Baz’s dark eyes rolled. “I’m not going to be alone with you, Damon. I’m not that stupid, and it wouldn’t go the way you think it would.”

“I’m not going to stand here in the middle of the station and conduct business.” He needed to get Baz away from so many potential hostages.

“Fine. I’ll make it simple for you then. I need you to get me in to see Nigel. It’s serious. We have a major problem, and I’m the only one who can help. Tell him it concerns the assignment on the ship.”

The train pulled away, the sound accompanied by a rush of air.

Penelope was gone, and there was no way Damon would allow Baz into SIS headquarters or within a mile of Nigel.

Baz’s eyes trailed to the escalators, narrowing. They were filled with travelers.

Damon remained still. He would only have one shot at him. The crowd would slow him down. “If you want to talk, this is how to do it. Surrender yourself and we’ll have a chat. The only way you see Nigel is from behind bars.”

Baz’s jaw tightened, eyes hardening. “That’s not going to happen. We will talk, Damon. On my terms. And tell your girlfriend that I’ll be seeing her.”

In an instant, he took off, but not on the escalator stairs. No, he leapt onto the metallic median that divided them and started running up at a near-impossible angle.

Damon followed, gracefully hauling his body onto the median. He stared up for the merest moment before starting to climb.

Everyone was watching, turning, and shouts began as Baz moved easily up toward the station above. The minute he got to ground level, he would be able to lose himself on the streets.

Damon followed but his dress shoes were already slipping.

And he could feel his body failing.

Baz stopped halfway up, turning slightly. “Don’t even bother. These aren’t exactly shoes you can get in a store. One of the perks of my job. Our tech guys are far better than yours.”

He stood there, grinning down as Damon struggled.

“Are your lungs burning already? How’s the old ticker working?”

God, he wished Baz hadn’t found those records. Damon managed to move another three feet before slipping again. Rage poured through him and he pushed on, jumping to the escalator steps when a spot opened. The steps were moving in the opposite direction of where he needed to go. “Move!”

The crowd shifted, trying to get out of his way, but he was fighting an uphill battle.

His lungs burned, his heart pumping. He pushed, dragging oxygen in, forcing it down as he ran.

And Baz just stood there and laughed. “It’s not going to work, mate. You’re done for. You should let them put you out to pasture because I might not have taken your life when I shot you, but I damn sure took your balls.”

He was almost there. Blood pounded in his ears, blocking out everything except the sound of his heart threatening to explode.

“Tell your slag if she wants a real man, I can take care of her,” Baz shouted, his arms out as though embracing the chaos he’d wrought.

Damon pressed on. All he could see, think of, was getting his hands wrapped around Baz’s throat. He would stop him. He would make sure Baz never got near Penelope. The very idea of him getting his hands on her served to fuel Damon’s rage.

So close. The pain in his chest sharpened, but he ignored it. He could push past it. The weakness was nothing. He could do it. He could make it. He was stronger than this.

The world narrowed to just him and Baz, his vision closing in on his enemy. A black fog played at the edge of his consciousness, but it didn’t matter. He would get the fucker. He would…

Baz winked down at him, turned and ran up the escalator, his shoes clinging to the metal, making it possible for him to run.

Damon pushed on. He just needed to get to the top. When he got to the top, he would call the tech boys and figure out how to track him. They would take over the CCTVs. If they just kept him in sights, they wouldn’t need to see his face. Hell, Chelsea was very likely watching him. She’d been playing with hacking the CCTVs when he’d left and she’d promised to track him. She was smart. She would keep him in her sights.

He could still do this.

His legs moved, working to get him up the mountain he seemed to be climbing. His arms pumped. His vision began to fade.

A lightheadedness took over.

The world went gray, and he fell back.

Pain flared through his system, his head pounding.

“Damon? Damon?” An insistent feminine voice pulled him from the fog.

He opened his eyes, and Penelope was staring down at him, a worried look on her face. “What happened?”

One minute he’d been closing in on Baz, and the next he was looking up at someone who should be at Gloucester station by now. He seemed to be at the bottom of the escalators, lying on the floor, his head in Penelope’s lap.

“You fell. You almost got to the top and then you just fell back. If someone hadn’t caught you, you would have tumbled down the entire way.” She smoothed his hair back, her palm cool against his skin.

It felt nice. And wrong. She wasn’t supposed to be here.

Damon forced himself to sit up though his head was reeling. “You disobeyed me.”

She remained kneeling on the ground, her hand coming out to drag him back to her. “Lie back down. A medic is on his way. I couldn’t find a transport officer. They’re apparently dealing with some sort of threat.”

So Baz had covered all his bases. He’d set up a distraction to keep the police at bay. But a medic would come. A medic who would write a report that would find its way to SIS and give them one more reason to pull him out of the field. He coughed, forcing his damaged lungs to work. Every breath ached, but he had to get out of here before that medic showed up.

And he was viciously angry at her. It wasn’t fair, but she was the only one around to take the brunt of his rage.

He tried to tamp it down as he got to his feet and straightened his shirt, ignoring the stares of people around him. “Let’s go. There’s a train coming in now.”

He didn’t care where it went. He would get on it and make his way home where he intended to make it very clear to his new partner exactly who was in charge.

“Damon!” She followed after him, reaching for his hand. The train pulled to a stop. It was going the wrong way but anything would do. “You need to see someone. You fainted.”

He gripped her wrist, pulling her onto the train.

Mind the gap between the platform and the train.

The ever-present reminder not to fall between the cracks echoed through the station as the doors closed. That’s what would happen to him if Penelope had her way. He would fall through SIS’s gap. He would be an operative without a mission, useless and meaningless. He would go back to his former life. Nothingness.

That wasn’t going to happen. He couldn’t let it.

The doors closed, and he herded her to the back of the train where the bench seat was open. “Sit down.”

There was fire in her eyes as she looked up at him. “I know you’re angry that I didn’t obey, but I couldn’t leave you behind. There was no way I could get on a train and leave you behind with that man. He nearly killed you before.”

“And what exactly did you think you could do? He wasn’t going to start speaking German. I didn’t need a translator.”

“I thought at least I could be with you,” she said, her eyes sliding away from him. “I couldn’t stand the thought of you being alone. I think you should see someone, Damon.”

He kept his voice low, barely above a whisper as he took the seat beside her. One long agonizing breath and he felt more in control, at least able to speak to her without frightening the others on the train. He’d brought enough attention to himself this afternoon. Still, he had a point to make with her. “I think you should mind your own business. And if you tell anyone at SIS that I fainted…”