Free Rewarded by Jo Davis Page B

Keeping out of sight of the windows in the double doors leading to the kitchen, they went down the hallway. Once at the doors, Gray risked a peek. Anna was seated, Santos looming over her, taunting her. His words were clear from where he and Delacruz watched.
    “Can’t wait for the party to start. I’ve been doing a little digging into your personal affairs, and I found some interesting information.” He smirked. “You’re going to watch as I kill both of the men you care about.”
    She laughed at him. “No, they’re going to kill
you
. You’re just a spineless little worm, with no honor.”
    Santos backhanded her across the face, snapping her head to the side. And Gray saw red.
    Bursting from his hiding place, Gray yelled, “FBI, freeze!”
    Petrov leaped behind a table, pulling Anna down as well, and fired. His shot went so wide, Gray couldn’t believe his luck. But there was no time to dwell on that. Santos fired, missing Gray’s head by millimeters. Gray returned fire, but Santos dove to the floor and the tall window behind him shattered, leaving nothing between whoever ventured too close and the pavement fifty-five floors below.
    Gray was aware of Delacruz trying to make his way to Anna. So was Santos, who turned and got the man in his sights. Gray ran, leaping at Santos as the bastard fired at Delacruz, and felt the punch in his shoulder. The burn. His gun had fallen from his hand, but he couldn’t stop.
    He and Santos rolled together, struggling for the single gun. It was a fight to the death, and if that was the way Santos wanted it, that’s how it would go down. Gray heard Anna scream and realized their fight had carried them to the broken window. They were perilously close to going over, and the idea made him dizzy. Sick.
    Out of the corner of his eye, Gray saw Delacruz retrieve Gray’s gun from the floor and point it at Petrov. To his amazement, Petrov raised his hands and yelled, “I’m FBI!”
    And in an American accent, no less. Holy crap.
    Gray strained to keep Santos from pulling them out the window. The man was out of his mind now, fighting without regard to his own life. He must have sensed he wasn’t going to win.
    Suddenly, Delacruz and Petrov were there, helping him. Delacruz wrested the gun from Santos’s grip and flung it far away from them. Petrov was pulling Gray to safety.
    And then the unthinkable happened.
    Santos got to his knees . . . and shoved Delacruz out the open window. Anna’s bloodcurdling scream was a sound Gray would never forget as he scrambled toward the window. Gray saw Delacruz’s bloodied hands holding on to the lip of the window, but he couldn’t hang on for long. And Santos was trying to dislodge him.
    Gray didn’t even think. He simply shoved Santos as hard as possible, and watched him disappear. His scream rode the air, fading as Gray grabbed Joaquin’s wrist.
    “Hang on,” he ordered. The other man’s frightened eyes stared up at him. “We’re going to pull you up.”
    “You’ll fall,” he shouted. “Just let me go!”
    “Not a fucking chance.” His shoulder was killing him.
    God, please don’t let me drop him.
    Petrov, or whatever the hell his name was, got on the other side of Gray and grabbed Delacruz’s other wrist. They pulled as one, surging backward and yanking Delacruz over the broken glass to safety. The man hissed in pain as the shards ripped at his clothing and skin, but it was better than falling fifty-five stories. For a moment, all of them sat on the floor, panting with residual fear and adrenaline.
    Breathing hard, Gray looked at the man he’d thought to be an assassin. “Thanks for the help. So, who the fuck
are
you?”
    “Vance Youngblood, FBI. I’ve been working undercover for over a year to gather enough evidence to hang that prick, and you just killed my assignment.” Then he grinned. “Can’t say I’m all broken up about it.”
    Gray laughed, and then groaned in pain. Anna’s hand was suddenly there, soothing