Chapter 5 - Fire in the Hallway
"Cover!" Rafe roared.
He didn't hesitate. He grabbed the heavy oak bedside table with one hand and flipped it entirely on its side, creating a barrier that shoved Tessa down into the corner between the wall and the heavy leather sofa.
Submachine gun fire tore through the room.
The sound was deafening in the enclosed space. Drywall exploded into white dust, glass shattered, and the medical monitors burst into sparks as bullets shredded the suite.
Rafe didn't flinch.
He leaned around the oak table, his arm locked, and fired three controlled shots.
The lead shooter’s chest caved inward under the impact of the heavy-caliber rounds, and he went down hard, his weapon clattering across the slick linoleum. The second shooter backed out into the hallway, firing wildly as he retreated.
"Tessa! Are you hit?" Rafe shouted, his voice cutting through the ringing in her ears.
"I'm clean!" she yelled back, her combat training kicking in automatically. She stayed low, checking her own body for blood, her eyes sweeping the floor for weapons. "They used smoke in the corridor! The alarm was a mask!"
Rafe moved like a storm.
Despite his torn flank, despite the fresh blood beginning to soak through his unbuttoned shirt, he stepped over the fallen table, his gun raised, and moved toward the doorway.
"Malcolm!" Rafe barked into the smoky hall.
A heavy groan answered him. Malcolm was lying against the opposite wall, holding a bleeding shoulder, his own sidearm empty on the floor beside him. Two of the Calder capos were down, neutralized by the initial burst of surprise fire.
"They... they came through the service elevator, Boss," Malcolm rasped, gasping for air. "Valenti sent a hit squad."
"Stay down," Rafe commanded.
He turned back to the room, his gray eyes wild, sweeping over Tessa. He looked terrified—not of the men with guns, not of the blood pooling on his floor, but of the possibility that she was bleeding.
He reached for her, his large hand grabbing her arm and pulling her up against his chest with a desperate, crushing force.
"You're leaving," he growled near her ear, his breath hot and ragged. "Now. Through the rear stairwell."
"I'm not leaving you!" she snapped, grabbing his blood-stained shirt. "Your wound is reopened, Rafe! Look at your side!"
"I don't care about my side!" he roared, his face inches from hers. The mask of the cold mafia boss was completely gone, replaced by a raw, primal panic. "They know you're in this room! If Valenti takes you to get to me, I will burn this entire city to the ground, but it won't keep you alive! Move!"
He dragged her into the hallway, using his massive body as a human shield against the smoke and potential sniper angles from the windows.
He led her toward the heavy steel fire doors at the end of the corridor. He shoved the bar open, exposing the concrete stairwell.
"Go down to the basement," he ordered, his hands holding both sides of her face, leaving smudges of gunpowder and blood on her pale skin. "Marcus is waiting at the service exit with an armored car. Tell him to take you to the safehouse in Blackwood."
"Rafe—"
"Go, Tessa!" he pleaded, his voice breaking on her name. "Please. Just this once... obey me."
He pressed his forehead against hers for one brief, agonizing second. His heart was hammering like a trapped beast against his ribs.
Then he shoved her through the door and slammed the heavy steel barrier shut, locking it from the outside.
Tessa stood in the dim concrete stairwell, listening to the heavy bolt click into place.
Above her, more gunshots echoed down the shaft.
She slammed her fist against the steel door once, her teeth gritted, tears of anger and fear blurring her vision.
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"Damn you, Rafe Calder," she whispered into the empty air.
Then she turned and ran down the stairs.
