“Shaw,” Wolf broke in. “I’m twenty minutes out.”
“Fine,” Kayden snarled. “Cyn, you keep your ass in one piece until I get there.”
“Don’t forget my camera,” I reminded him.
His grumbled suggestion made me grin. I stood outside the ragged opening
and wished for a flashlight. Much easier to handle with my gun than my phone. I
pulled my Sig free and warned the team, “Going quiet.”
It took some serious contortions to make it around the rough edges of the opening without losing more of my shirt. But once inside, the heat was stifling
and sweat popped out on my forehead. I held still, both hands wrapped around
my Sig, waiting for my vision to adjust to the shrouded interior. When the sweat
threatened to run into my eyes, I used my shoulder to wipe it away.
I entered from the rear of the building. There was a bit of diffused light that
squeezed between the gaping boards and a series of holes that peppered the back
wall. Unidentifiable piles were scattered across the floor. Walls divvied the space
into something closer to a maze. It left dozens of places for anything or anyone to hide. A thin layer of grit layered the concrete floors underfoot, making it difficult to keep my steps silent. Large panels hung like drunken Legos from the
ceiling, just waiting to fall on the unwary.
Sound reached my ears. I held my breath, straining to listen. The indistinct murmur resolved into voices. Did Ramirez have company or was he talking to someone on the phone?
Someone walked across the second-story floor, and dust trickled from the
ceiling. I did a slow scan of the interior looking for stairs. They had to be here
somewhere. Just when I was about to give up, I found them crouched in the far
corner.
I kept my back to the wall and drifted forward. Shifting shadows added a creepy vibe to the gaping doorways and piles dotting the open floor. The tang of
smoke found its way up my nose. Using an outstretched hand, I brushed my fingers along the rough surface of the wall. When I brought my hand up, I could
make out the smudge of black now staining my fingers.
Great. Nothing like creeping around in a burned-out building.
My arms ached from holding my gun at the ready. To stave off the muscle fatigue, I lowered my gun and kept my finger on the side of the trigger. I stuck
close to the walls, not trusting the rest of the structure. Whoever was upstairs walked across the floor again, and more dust rained down. Was Ramirez pacing?
Or were there two people up there?
With no easy answers in sight, it was time to brave the unknown. I needed another way to the second floor. One that wouldn’t dump me in front of Ramirez
and his possible company. It took nerve-wracking patience to work my way
through the lower level, but my persistence paid off. Near the front was a small,
second, narrow flight of stairs.
Sending a quick prayer that they would hold my weight, I crept up. A
handful of steps from the top, the board underfoot gave a loud protest. I dropped
into a crouch, and kept my gun aimed at the dark opening. The murmur of voice
stopped, replaced by a tense, waiting quiet.
I focused on breathing through the rush of adrenaline, because if someone
came this way, I was screwed. I had no idea what waited at the top. Footsteps moved away from where I huddled, heading back toward the other set of stairs.
It sounded like just one person. Shadows filled the narrow stairwell, turning it into an inky abyss. My damaged thigh protested at my prolonged position, but I
didn’t dare move and giveaway my presence.
Above me, a shoe scraped over the floor, but I still couldn’t tell if Ramirez
