Every muscle in Zane’s body contracted. He inched toward the edge of the roof, willing her fingers to wrap around the angled metal. “Come on, baby.”

A yelp slipped from her mouth. Her bare feet grappled for footing. Her hands tightened around a metal bar, and the muscles in her arms flexed as she pulled herself up.

Thank you, God.

“Holy shit!” Eve yelled. “I fucking hate you, Archer!” Her knuckles turned white as she held on for dear life. “Behind you!”

Instinct had him lifting his gun. He turned just as a man cleared the fire escape, a handgun clenched tightly in his grip. Zane braced the butt of his SIG against his palm and fired. Gunshots echoed in the air. The bullet hit the man in the chest before he could get off a round. Two more rushed the roof, but Zane dropped them just as quickly, just as efficiently, with two perfectly placed bullets.

He waited a breath to see if anyone else came charging up. When the coast seemed clear, he holstered the gun at his spine and then whipped back to Eve. “Watch out!”

Her eyes grew wide. He didn’t wait for her smart-ass response, just hurled himself out onto the tower after her.

“Archer!”

Eve’s scream mixed with voices from somewhere below. Zane’s body slammed into the crisscrossed metal, his stomach and face taking the brunt of the impact. The tower rocked. His hand slipped, and his adrenaline shot even higher. He felt himself falling, tried to hold on. Pain ripped across his right palm. Just when he thought he was done for, he managed to hook his boot on the intersection between two bars and wrap his fingers around a strip of metal. Pulse racing, he pulled himself up until he reached Eve, then just worked to suck back air.

Holy hell. He’d gotten lucky.

“You son of a bitch, Archer. What the fuck was that?” She let go with one arm, then slammed her fist into his left biceps.

A burst of pain rushed across his skin, and he winced. Why the hell was she pissed? He was the one who had nearly fallen, not her.

She shook her hand. “You could have been killed, you idiot.”

The fact she didn’t seem relieved by that thought hit Zane right in the sternum. And clamped on tight.

“We have to get off this tower,” she said.

He gave his head a swift shake. Told himself not to read too much into her comments. The woman had been trained in the art of lying. Extensively. One glance around, though, confirmed she was right. Now was their best chance to get off this damn thing.

“Go,” he said, already reaching down with his foot for another foothold. “And hurry before your boyfriends show up.”

She huffed and started the climb down, but before either of them made it a good foot, shouts from the ground echoed up, mixing with the unmistakable ping, ping, ping of gunfire ricocheting off the tower’s metal.

“Up!” Zane screamed, already shifting direction and pulling himself toward the sky. “Goddammit, go around to the other side!”

Eve muttered a curse he could barely make out, but she listened, climbing around the tower to the far side and hauling herself up toward the arm of the crane without looking to see if he followed. Sweat poured down his forehead and dripped along his spine. The metal dug into his hands. His muscles screamed from the effort, and pain spiraled all through his bad leg. When they reached the slewing unit—the gear and motor just beneath the crane’s arm—Zane grasped Eve’s hand and pulled her next to him.

The goons below had stopped firing and were now pointing in their direction and hollering in a language Zane couldn’t make out. He glanced down just as three men took off from the group and ran around the far side of the building, likely toward the fire escape on the other side. One man headed for the operator’s cab at the bottom of the tower.

“We’re about to have company,” he said to Eve. “Come on. All the way up out onto the arm.”

Eve let him help her up onto the arm, then waited as he pulled himself up next to her. Once on top, she leaned forward to suck back air and gripped the railing to her right. “Smooth move, smart guy. We’re sitting ducks up here.”

Yeah, no shit. The arm didn’t even come close to the construction site, as if the operator had swung it away from the building at quitting time so no one could mess with the thing. Options rushed through Zane’s mind, but the only plausible one solidified when he heard voices on the roof of the warehouse behind him. He grabbed Eve’s hand and pulled her with him. “Come on! Toward the water!”

“What the fuck? Archer!”

Automatic gunfire ignited in the air. Eve gripped his hand and ran. A whirring sound echoed, followed by a jolt as the arm of the crane began to swivel.

Holy God, they’d turned the damn crane on. Zane grasped the railing with his bloody hand and pulled harder on Eve’s arm with the other. “Fucking run!”

She was right. This was easily the dumbest thing he’d done to date. When was he going to start using his fucking brain like Ryder had told him to do?

Eve pulled back on his hand as they neared the end of the jib, her face awash with horror. The entire arm slowly rotated away from the water. They had seconds before they’d be out over dry land instead of the Sound. Zane gripped Eve’s wrist tightly. “Jump!”

“Goddammit, Archer. I really hate you!”

Her last word echoed up as they pushed off, the sparkling water of Puget Sound hovering below. The jib bounced under their feet. As cool air rushed over Zane’s skin and bullets pinged off metal at their backs, he said one quick prayer that the water was deep enough off these docks so they didn’t kill themselves when they hit.

But before he heard the splash, a burn like the heat of a thousand suns lit up his left arm. Then he was sucked down in a black, wet, ice-cold abyss. Where he heard nothing at all.


Eve came up gasping.

The frigid water cut like a knife, and she was sure her heart had taken up permanent residence in her throat. The scents of fish and algae filled her nostrils, nearly making her gag. She treaded water and breathed deep as she turned a slow circle to catch her bearings. As she tried to clear the cobwebs from her head still lingering from the drugs Archer had given her.

Holy shit, she’d made it. No way she should have survived that drop. Voices echoing from above reminded her she needed to get out of sight. She swam toward the dock, grasped the slimy wood of a post, and looked back for Archer.

The low light of dusk made it hard to see off the water. She should leave his ass. After what he’d done to her, she didn’t owe him a damn thing except a swift kick in the balls. And yet, something held her back. Where the hell was he? He should be up by now. Why wasn’t he breaking the surface, yelling at her to move her ass?

Panic closed in. She looked up at the crane’s arm, stopped now, no longer rotating away from the water. The men who’d chased them up onto the roof hadn’t ventured out on the steel themselves, and they obviously hadn’t seen her yet. They were pointing down at the water, waving their guns, yelling things she couldn’t quite make out. She looked back to the water again and flinched when something brushed her leg.

Come on, Archer . . .

He broke the surface a good ten yards out and gasped, a pained expression across his face.

“Dammit, Archer.” Relief rushed through her chest even though he didn’t deserve it. He looked like he was having trouble, so she swam out to him, grasped his arm, and helped pull him back toward the safety of the dock. “I thought you were fish food. That was the dumbest fucking idea you’ve ever come up with.”

“Worked, didn’t it?”

He hooked one arm around the pillar of the dock and paused to catch his breath. And that’s when she saw the blood running down his biceps. That panic formed all over again. “You’re hit?”

He glanced at his arm and then wrestled his way out of his shirt. More shaken than she wanted to admit, Eve helped free him from the wet garment, then tied the T-shirt around his arm to slow the blood loss. But her stomach rolled as red seeped into the cotton.

She swallowed hard and glanced up. The thugs had left the roof and were likely on their way down to the docks. Her brain switched to action mode. “We have to get out of this water.”

He nodded, his tanned chest rising and falling as he sucked back air and pointed toward what looked like a ladder. “There.”

She swam that direction and told herself she was a fool for being relieved he followed. He’d tied her up, drugged her, and then nearly gotten her killed with his Superman stunt. But instead of being pissed, all she could think about was the fact he’d saved her life. He could have left her tied to that chair in the warehouse when those men came in, but he hadn’t. Instead of offering her up to save his own ass, he’d put himself between her and danger. And he’d taken a bullet as a result.

Water sluiced off her body as she climbed onto the dock and ducked into the shadows of another warehouse, wishing for her gun. Don’t be stupid, Eve. Archer hadn’t saved her because he cared about her. He’d done it because he still wanted answers. Answers she couldn’t give him. Not if she wanted him to live.

They inched around the building, making their way toward the road that led to the Seattle waterfront. If they could get to the tourist area, they could blend in and find safety in numbers. These guys wouldn’t gun them down in broad daylight. At least she hoped they wouldn’t.

An engine roared somewhere behind them.

Archer grabbed her arm and jerked her back against his body into the shadows of the building. She gasped. Then his wet chest pressed against hers, and there was nothing but her dripping bra separating their skin.