Fatal Exposure by Barrett Gail

Author:Barrett, Gail [Barrett, Gail]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Romance, Contemporary, Contemporary Romance
ISBN: 9780373278275
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2013-05-31T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

Still unable to believe that someone—maybe even Delgado—had set him up, Parker charged across the room toward Brynn. What the hell was going on here? Hoffman had asked him to find his stepdaughter—and now he was trying to bring him in?

He pulled his Glock from his back holster. “Police! Get down!” he shouted at the customers. They screamed and dove to the floor. Taking in the situation in an instant, Brynn leaped up and grabbed her supplies, then darted behind the counter. Parker hurried to catch up.

They were outnumbered, out-armed. The police would surround the building. They’d block the exits and roads. To have any chance at escaping, they had to get out now, before the cops realized they’d been tipped off.

He lunged behind the counter, then raced down the hall after Brynn. The barista cowered in the corner of the rear office, his face a pasty white. “Don’t shoot!” he cried, raising his hands.

Parker skidded to a stop and glanced around the small room, searching for a way to escape. The door to the alley was out. The police would block that first. “Is there another exit?” he demanded, flashing his badge.

The barista’s eyes were wild, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his gangly throat. “N-no.”

Parker swore and whirled around. There had to be another way out. He refused to surrender until he knew what this was about.

“What’s in here?” Brynn asked, pointing to a door half-buried behind a stack of supplies.

The barista shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Parker frowned at the door. It was in the common wall connecting the buildings. If there was a chance it led next door...

He pushed through a stack of boxes and yanked on the knob, but it was locked. “Get the key,” he told the barista. He just hoped it wasn’t a closet, or they were screwed.

The barista ran to the desk while Parker hurled the boxes aside. The kid tossed him the key, and Parker unlocked the door. Not a closet. Relief spiraling through him, he turned to the barista again. “Come on.”

“Wh-what?” The kid’s eyes nearly bugged from his face.

“I said, come on. Through here.” He waved his gun, and the terrified barista rushed to comply. Parker followed Brynn through the door and secured it from the other side.

Knowing he’d only bought seconds, he scanned the unlit room. Dust covered the floor. The air smelled stale from disuse. Stray pieces of furniture hulked in the shadows, like ships in a mothball fleet.

“Upstairs,” Brynn urged and took off running.

“You stay here,” Parker told the barista. “Just sit tight and you won’t get hurt. And whatever you do, don’t call the police.”

Hoping the kid would obey him, he bounded after Brynn up a flight of stairs. When they reached the top, he paused again. Faint light slanted through the filthy windows, revealing dust motes hanging in the air.

“There’s a balcony next door,” Brynn said, peering out the rear window. “Part of the old fire escape. It might be another way out.” She pulled on the window frame, but it didn’t budge.

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