The bullets stopped, and Xander risked another glance into the hallway, now pitch black. Amir and his thugs had vanished.
“To the loading area,” Xander continued as he recalled the layout of the museum, glad he had studied the maps enough to have it memorized. “And we’ll need emergency crews.” He clenched his jaw and slinked into the dark hallway, keeping his weapon in position in front of him, ready to shoot anything that moved. Counting his steps, he took note of the smell of smoke filling his nostrils.
He came to the first door where the blood had been. If he remembered correctly, it was a storage room. The burning smell became stronger. He gripped the handle and tried to open the door, his chest tightening. Could she be in there? Hopefully not. Not if it was on fire. A stream of expletives left his mouth when he couldn’t get the door to budge.
A heavy footstep came from the side. He whirled and fired.
A thud met his ears. Xander crept forward then nudged his foot against a lifeless heap. Xander steered clear of the body of one of the masked men and glanced around the corner. Light came from the end of the hallway, allowing him to see into the garage. A lorry was parked under the large door. The back of the vehicle stood open, the trailer filled with wooden crates and cardboard boxes.
Blast. They must have cleaned the whole place out.
With a loud, whirring rumble, the lorry burst to life. Xander gritted his teeth and sprang for the garage. Once he was close enough to aim accurately, he lifted his gun and shot at the tires. He was barely past the door when, out of nowhere, a crowbar swished down and struck his arm. He let out a yell, barely managing to keep a firm grip on his weapon as pain shot up his arm. Pivoting, he aimed at his attacker.
Amir’s twisted sneer greeted him in the half-shadows. He swung the crowbar again.
Xander ducked, but it clipped his hand and his gun went flying. Even though his hand smarted, he pushed the pain from his mind. He needed a weapon and fast. He glanced franticly around the garage.
Amir took a deliberate stride toward him, his hands twisting around the crowbar.
Xander kept his focus on the man and clenched his fists. He’d use them if nothing else. Smash them right into his temple. A broken skull would go well with the scar on his face.
“All right,” he seethed, “where are they?”
“They’re dead.” Amir tipped the crowbar toward Xander, his shoulders hunched like a leopard, ready to pounce.
Xander thought of the blood, the smell of smoke. But it couldn’t be true. Amir was lying. He had to be.
“I don’t care about the artifacts. Just tell me where Leila and Karl are and you can go,” he managed in a steady voice.
Amir lunged. Xander, ready for the strike, leaped aside. The crowbar smashed into a pallet, wood chips flying.
“Your aim could use some work,” Xander said, gliding his feet slowly across the smooth concrete, trying to maneuver to where his gun waited on the floor.
Amir ripped the crowbar from the pallet and faced him again, balancing the black metal rod in one hand.
“You remember this?” he asked with a glance down at his weapon. “The night of the accident. I got you pretty good in the ribs. It was my mistake that I didn’t finish you off, though.” Amir returned both hands to the crowbar and swung it at Xander.
Xander caught it with a grunt. Teeth grinding together, he began to twist it to the side, determined to wrench it free. “Actually, I didn’t remember. But thanks for letting me know,” he growled.
Amir held his ground. They became locked into a push-and-pull battle, fighting for control of the iron lever. Amir threw a glance over his shoulder at the lorry, shouting for the others to leave. The vehicle rumbled forward, leaving Amir behind.
A trail of sweat ran down Xander’s temple. “Your new look suits you, by the way.”
Amir snarled then shoved him back, releasing his hold on the crowbar. He ran for Xander’s gun lying on the other side of the garage.
Xander went after him, but Amir reached the weapon first. He whipped it toward Xander’s head. Time froze. There was no way he would miss at this close range.
Just when he’d heard the truth, found the real killer, freed himself of any lingering guilt, it was over.
A slow click reverberated in his ears as Amir squeezed the trigger.
Nothing happened. Amir squeezed the trigger back a few more times, but the gun clicked harmlessly. He jumped to his feet, tossing the useless weapon to the floor.
Xander closed the distance between them and twisted the front of Amir’s shirt into his fist, slamming him against the wall.
“This is your last chance,” he growled. “Where are they?”
“I already told you,” Amir said, his expression unconcerned. “They’re dead.”
The smell of smoke drifted into the garage, reminding him that even if Leila was alive, time was quickly running out. Xander took a fistful of Amir’s hair and banged his head against the wall. Apparently unfazed by the blow, Amir laughed and, in one swift movement, thrust one hand into his jacket. Metal glinted in the light then plunged into Xander’s side.
The sudden sting of the blade caused Xander to let go of Amir and stumble backward. He could only stare at the hilt of the knife sticking out from his shirt. It didn’t seem possible.
Without warning, Amir ripped the blade out. Burning pain burst through his abdomen. Blood rushed out of his head, drowning him in cold. White flecks flashed in his eyes as crimson spread across his stomach. Was that his blood? Then his vision grayed, fading into darkness, and he felt himself falling into a bottomless pit.
• • •
Smoke swirled above Leila. She kept her head on the floor near the door, as far away from the fire as she could get, in the hopes she would breathe any oxygen that might seep in through the gaps. Each breath was like swallowing flames, despite the piece of fabric she’d ripped from her dress and tied over her mouth and nose.
Fire crackled behind her, a reminder she only had minutes to live. Within mere seconds, she could lose consciousness. The flames might not reach her, but soon there would be no escape from the smoke.
Shouts and bangs came from the other side of the door. She could imagine the thugs carrying out box after box, heeding Amir’s every order. How could anyone listen to him? How could anyone be so merciless? Her eyes fell on Karl’s lifeless form and she wiped at her cheeks, swallowing against her swelling throat.
The door handle rattled. Leila jumped, heart thudding against her chest. He was coming to finish her off. To make sure his work was done. The door remained shut. She was tempted to bang on it, show him she was hanging on. He couldn’t get rid of her that easily.
Keeping the rest of her body low, she reached for the handle. Her lungs convulsed, forcing her to abandon the mission and crumple into a heap as she coughed uncontrollably.
This was it.
