He shut the door and flipped the lock. Robinson never yelled or called for help. Xander followed the hallway to the end, then padded down the stairs, stopping every couple of steps to check for sounds or movement.
Nothing in the building stirred, so he continued into the downstairs hallway. The sound of a desk chair being pushed across a carpet came from the monitor room. Xander retreated to the stairs just as Hawkins walked out of the monitor room and headed the other direction, down the hall toward the ladies’ room.
Xander relaxed and waited until the door creaked shut, then walked over to the monitor room and peered inside. The interrogation room screens were black, showing there was no way Robinson would have known what was going on down there.
Robinson is a ruddy liar.
His gaze landed on the table with Leila’s things. He stuffed the pendant and ring into his pocket—the knife and Glock went into his waistband. He also grabbed a set of handcuffs from the desk.
The sound of running water coming from the ladies’ room caught his attention.
Time to go. Xander took two large, slow steps toward the door, then slipped into the hallway. He turned and followed the second flight of stairs into the basement.
No one met him on the way down. As far as he knew, it was only the three other agents in the safe house at the moment. Robinson was knocked-out, Jones was busy, and Hawkins oblivious for the moment. Although, he had expected Hawkins to be chasing after him by now. All the better that she wasn’t.
The basement was another hallway with doors lining the left side. Three naked light bulbs hanging from the smudged ceiling lit the way. Voices drifted down the hall, punctuated by sobbing. His stomach lurched. Swallowing hard, he held out the Beretta and crept to the interrogation room door.
He rested his free hand on the handle and paused. This was the hard part. Jones was a lethal weapon, but Xander had the element of surprise on his side. With a deep breath, he tightened his hold on the gun, then flung the door open.
The door banged against the wall. Jones stood with his back to him, blocking Leila from his view. Slowly, the man looked over his shoulder.
Jones turned to face Xander, his hands curling into fists, and he snarled, “What are you doing here?”
Xander held the gun steady, aiming at Jones’s chest. He kept his finger straight, not touching the trigger, although he wouldn’t hesitate to shoot if he had to.
“Step back,” he said, his voice dangerously low. He wished he could see Leila, praying no damage had been done to her. But she was out of sight and deathly silent.
A sneer remained on Jones’s face. His fingers twitched and he took a step toward Xander, his eyes locked on the gun in Xander’s hands.
“Have you lost your mind?” Jones took another step forward.
Probably. I don’t care. “All I want is for you to stand back.” Xander shifted his footing, making sure he was firmly in place.
“Think for a second about what you’re doing, Harrison.”
“I know exactly what I’m doing.” That was the truth. Wasn’t it? “And I’m going to shoot you if you don’t cooperate.”
“You’re impeding an investigation.” Jones continued to prowl forward. “You’re threatening an agent. You’re aiding the enemy.” He stopped several strides in front of Xander. “Should I go on?”
Xander glared at him and pressed his lips together. Of course he didn’t need to hear it. The longer he let Jones talk, the more time was running out. Robinson would wake up, Hawkins would realize something was going on, and they would both come to Jones’s aid. Not his.
“You have two seconds to get out of the way,” Xander warned, slipping his finger over the trigger, just enough to feel it. One twitch was all it would take.
Jones’s eyes narrowed into slits. He straightened and flexed his fingers at his sides.
Xander swallowed as sweat ran down his temple. He adjusted his finger. Aim for the arm or foot. Or both. It might take more than one hit to slow him down. He locked his gaze on Jones’s shoulder—then the man took two steps to the side, giving Xander a clear path to Leila.
Xander froze, staring at Jones. Was he actually going to let him pass?
It’s a trick.
Jones glared back with murder in his eyes.
Yes, it’s definitely a trick. But Xander wouldn’t let the opportunity go to waste, either. He kept the gun aimed at Jones’s chest. As he closed the distance between himself and Leila, he didn’t dare take his eyes off the agent, who watched him, chin up and arms crossed.
Once Xander reached Leila’s side, his gaze darted to her face and his stomach dropped. She looked at him with wide, red, watery eyes, her face flushed and swollen. A crack in her lip bled onto her chin. His gaze lowered to where red boils peppered her arms.
His grip tightened around the gun and his blood grew hot. I’m going to kill him.
Glaring at Jones, he tugged at the ropes with his free hand. Half-covered in shadow, his boss watched, his arms still crossed, a scowl twisting his features.
But Leila’s arm… Her cheek was red and swollen. If he hadn’t come in to stop Jones, what would the man have done?
Her eyes widened. “Xander!” she shrieked, and he realized his mistake. A fist slammed into his head, knocking him to the side. The room spun and flashes of light filled his vision. It took him a few intakes of breath to realize he was on his stomach on the cold concrete floor.
He rolled over as Jones swung his booted foot. The boot met Xander’s ribs with a nasty thud, knocking the air out of him. Xander coughed and lifted his hand, but it was empty. The gun was gone.
“This won’t be your last beating!” Jones yelled, landing another blow to Xander’s stomach. But Xander could hardly hear him as he curled up with pain. He pulled out Leila’s Glock from his waistband and pointed it at Jones. It made a harmless click.
“I’ll beat you again.” Jones kicked Xander in the stomach. “And again, which is the least a traitor like you deserves. Then you can sit in a dark cell for the rest of your—”
A crash stopped Jones’s speech and he crumpled into a heap on the floor.
Xander rolled over with a groan. Next to him, the metal chair Leila had been tied to lay on its side, one leg bent at an odd angle.
Leila kneeled next to Xander and gently took his face in both hands. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” Xander coughed, taking in deep breaths to refill his lungs. Each breath burned and a stabbing pain swept through his ribs. But he’d had worse. He found the gun under the table, then pushed himself to his feet. Leila stepped up to him and placed a hand on his forearm.
