Thanks to I-Love-Moony, Alanna99, Ande, and SweetBubblegum for your reviews on chapter 36. I love getting reviews. Anyway...just thought I should let you know...this still isn't the end. There's the attack on the hotel to deal with as well as a wrapping up chapter. So I'm thinking there're three more chappies to go! Polished Gem
Chapter 37
The noise seemed to catch most of the people in the room off guard. Leigh took it in a stride, but was unable to do much about it. Anderson had purposely tightened the handcuffs until they dug into the skin, giving her poor circulation. Her fingers were practically numb, and every time she tried to wiggle them tiny uncomfortable needles shot up her arm.
Rollson was the next to react while Anderson was still standing in shock. The gun was in his hands just a millisecond before a gunshot erupted from beyond the door. A foot slammed into the door and it banged open, but the person beyond was standing just out of eye view.
Leigh didn't rely on her eyes. Now that the door had been forced open, she caught a clear masculine scent. It was a scent that she had learned to hate over the past few weeks, but it now came as a relief. Tross.
But there wasn't much he could do against these men. He was just a menial cop who thought big and worked for the big promotions. He didn't know anything about real crime. Sure, he'd gotten lucky a couple of times, but she doubted that would be enough—even if he were fairly resourceful.
Anderson finally came to his senses—or at least he shot into movement. Leigh wasn't sure how intact his brains were. He charged out of the room, gun held in front of him with a throaty yell. He was either extremely brave or extremely stupid. There was a resounding shot and Leigh didn't have to wonder who had taken the bullet.
But Rollson wouldn't be as easy, and Rigby was starting to groan from his spot on the floor, blood matting at the back of his head.
"Idiot," she heard Rollson mutter beneath his breath. A whisper no human ear could have picked up.
"And that would be our back-up," she heard Doug say calmly, confidently.
When she turned to look at him, there was a lazy smile plastered to his features. He looked like he was ready to stretch back and didn't have a care in the world. She knew differently, but his ruse was very convincing.
Rollson slowly moved to his feet, the gun held out in an unwavering hand. Instead of moving toward the door, he headed in their direction. Leigh frowned, trying to figure out his intent. His feet whispered along the floor toward them, all the while watching the open door with an experienced eye.
Quick as lightening, Rollson reached over and gripped a giant tuft of Doug's hair, jerking him forward so that he could be clearly seen through the door if the attacker chose to show himself. He brought the gun to Doug's skull.
"Show yourself!" he commanded. "Or I'll pull the trigger!"
Leigh snarled old, wriggling her arms helplessly. They were no use, but her legs were unsecured. And Rollson was standing so close. If she could just reach out far enough…but Rollson might get a shot in before he fell.
There was a heartbeat of silence where no one moved or did anything, and then the detective stepped into sight, looking ridiculous in the rubber suit. But there was nothing ridiculous about the way the gun was clenched in his grasp. He held his arm tightly at his side, not openly threatening Rollson for the moment.
"Now I don't think you want to be doing that," Tross remarked in his best official and commanding tone.
"And why not?" Tross asked. "I would have gladly spared his life if he had decided to see the light, but he will not. He is nothing but a danger to me if I let him go. I might as well kill him and be done with it. And my men will be here shortly to deal with you."
Leigh supposed it was now or never. Either way, Doug was going to die. She might as well cling to the slim hope that the gun would slip before he squeezed the trigger. She felt the muscles tense in her legs.
"If he is going to die anyway," Tross said, and she could tell by the tiny imperceptible movement in his eye that he was trying not to look at her—trying not to draw attention in her direction. He knew what she was up to. "You give me no motive to keep my gun lowered."
Tross smirked, but he looked a little perturbed, as if he could see something in Tross' eyes too. His shoulders stiffened as he responded. "I give you the slim, almost impossible hope that you might actually be able to pull this maneuver off—if you're smart enough."
Leigh struck. She brought her legs up in the air, momentarily suspended by the cuffs that held her—and it hurt like heck as they cut even deeper into her wrists. She brought her legs up above Rollson's head, extended and rigid in the axe kick form. Putting all her rage and frustration and every ounce of strength behind the blow, she slammed down toward his head.
Unfortunately it didn't go quite as well as planned because he took that moment to shift and whip around to meet her. Her blow met with the arm that was carrying the gun and it fell from temporarily lifeless fingers.
She kicked out again, before he could get his act together. It seemed that Doug had the same idea in mind because he caught Rollson in the back at the same time her own blow met with his head.
Rollson fell back, groaning. There was a gun at his head within moment.
"I wouldn't move if I were you," the detective threatened.
"Tross!" Doug interrupted. "The keys! We need to get out of here!"
Tross gave him an abrupt nod and shoved the gun right up against Rollson's temple. "Where are they?"
Rollson gave him a dark and furious gaze, looking like a caged panther. "Go on," he hissed. "Do it. Put me out of my misery."
Leigh groaned. She'd only known Rollson for a little less that a few minutes, but she already knew he was stubborn and unbendable. He would continue to believe wolves were bad no matter what Leigh or anyone else said. It was really too bad in a way. She felt a certain sympathy for him. She never knew that she'd be able to feel that way about someone who was trying to kill her. But Rollson honestly believed he was doing what was right—he honestly believed he was helping humanity by hunting wolves.
"He's a liability," she told Tross. "He won't tell you anything."
"In that case," Tross said and he brought the gun up. Leigh cringed. Tross brought the butt down hard. It connected with Rollson's skull and he fell unconscious.
Tross looked up at them with a grim smile. "I couldn't very well have him causing problems when I was trying to get you free."
Doug groaned. "You'll never find the keys in time!"
"Not likely," Tross replied. "Which is why I'm not looking for them."
With that he pushed Doug to the side so he could have a good view of what was connecting Doug to the wall. There was a resounding shot. Doug moved away from the wall, his hands still bound behind his back.
Tross also moved Leigh to the side. He used his shoulder to keep her from swinging back wearily. She realized suddenly how tired she was. She closed her eyes tightly as the shot resounded again. She felt this great force take hold of the metal that was connecting her to the wall. She nearly spun with the movement.
"Let's go," Doug said tersely.
But before he had moved, Tross grabbed his wrists from behind him and looked at the watch Doug was wearing. "I thought so," the detective muttered, cursing.
"What?" Leigh asked in alarm.
"You don't want to know," Tross replied. "Just move!"
That woke her up from her stupor. They ducked out of the office at a sprint. It was hard to move at an all out run with her arms firmly bound behind her back. They didn't help with balance in that position, but somehow she was managing.
They didn't have far to go. Rollson's office was near the front doors. She could hear the comforting sound of Doug's and Tross' labored breathing on either side of her as they dove for the door.
The doors crashed opened, showing no resistance to them and nearly ran into three men. They stood in a semi circle, guns trained on them. They stopped mid-dash, holding completely still. Leigh knew the bullets wouldn't kill her, but any sudden movement would probably set the guys shooting. And they might hit Doug. Or Tross.
"And where do you think you're going?" One of the guys asked, taking charge of the situation.
"Lars," Doug remarked with almost disdainful recognition.
"I'm not exactly happy to see you too buddy," Lars returned. "Traitor."
"How would you like my face to be the last one you ever saw?" Doug replied, his voice was both desperate and dangerous at the same time.
Leigh glanced over at him, trying to figure out what he was up to.
"Is that a threat?" Lars replied, his eyes narrowing.
His companions kept their weapons steadily pointed at Leigh and Tross. Leigh wasn't very concerned with a little bit of pain at the moment. She was more concerned with Doug. He seemed almost wild and full of reckless abandon—like he was ready to fall apart…or explode. It worried her to see him like that.
"Sure is," Doug replied darkly, his arms twisting behind his back. He looked Lars hard in the face. "Because if we all stand here for one moment longer, we'll specks of meat for the vultures."
Lars' eyes narrowed even further. "What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about the freaking bomb that's about to explode!" Doug snapped.
The look in Doug's eyes was too sincere, too freakishly feverish for even these guys to deny. It was obvious that he was telling the truth. Lars' companions dropped their guns and broke for the gate. Lars was moving after them a millisecond later.
That was Leigh's cue. She dove into motion, followed by Doug and Tross. They hurried for the gate. To Leigh's amazement, the three men had jumped onto the fence with bare hands and were beginning to climb. Apparently it wasn't turned on at the moment. They hadn't opened the gate like Leigh had hoped.
Leigh glanced up at the daunting fence with a helpless shrug of her shoulders. "No what?" she asked.
Doug was giving a horrified shrug in return. There was no way they'd be able to climb with their arms bound behind their backs. It was impossible.
But then, Tross was gripping her and lifting her up onto his shoulders. "Can you stand?" he asked. "If you can, I think I can hoist you to the top."
Leigh nodded, not even thinking about the fact that Tross probably couldn't see her nod. She moved to trembling feet, balancing precariously atop the detective's shoulders. With a quick thrust she was sailing to the top of the fence. She managed to catch it with her legs, suspended and dipping inward. She wrenched her body in the other direction and allowed herself to topple to the ground outside the compound. She landed in a heap.
A few moments later, Doug landed at their side. Then they heard the disgruntled huffing sounds of the detective as he tried to climb up the side of the fence. Now she understood why it had taken him so long to catch up to them. He wasn't exactly in the kind of shape it took to climb a fence deftly.
"Come on!" Leigh muttered, distinctly aware that the time was ticking ever near. It could be ten seconds away. It could be now. Either way, the detective wasn't moving quickly enough.
Just as he reached the top of the fence, balancing unsteadily, there was a great explosion. The noise surprised him so much that he toppled over the side, nearly landing on Leigh. She had the urge to clap her hands over her ears, but resisted it. She gripped one of Tross' arms and Doug took the other. They took off, followed by a wave of heat that curled the ends of her hair and gave her an instant sunburn.
They stopped across the street and toppled onto the sidewalk, panting. Leigh glance back, hearing a great cracking noise. Then the apartment complex lost all definition, caving in on itself.
She was faintly aware of people running out of there homes to see what all the commotion was about, but the only thing that filled her vision was the decrepit building, now doused in hungry flames.
