was alone or not. A faint rush of air and a shift in the shadows was my only warning that the door above me opening. I held my breath as my limited options

ran through my brain in rapid succession. Either I took a chance and rushed whoever waited. Or I held my position and let whoever was at the top come to

me. The one small blessing was that the door’s position meant if someone was

there, they had to move into the stairwell to see me. Of course, I wouldn’t see them until they did that.

Right now, it was a waiting game, and I didn’t want to be the one to make the

first move. Seconds ticked by and the sense of someone waiting and watching,

floated down. I pressed into the shadows, barely daring to breathe, and sank into

the familiar anticipatory quiet, prepared to react to whatever or whoever came down the stairs.

Finally, the door clicked shut. I let out the breath I’d been holding. Great, that entry was compromised. I moved on to my next option, hauling ass back downstairs so I could follow Ramirez out, or, if I got really lucky, catching a glimpse of who he was meeting.

Caution dictated stealth over speed, which made retracing my path down the

stairs longer than I liked. Once back on the bottom floor, I crept through the shadows, every sense on alert. The silence created a high-pitched ringing in my

ears, and shifting shadows twisted broken furniture into possible attackers. Even

the taint of old ash on the air tasted bitter. A chill rode my skin, and my mouth

was dry, but at least my hands stayed steady on my gun.

The nocturnal chorus of insects had fallen silent, and the night took on a heavy awareness. Unlike the front stairs, the ones at the back were nothing more

than a skeletal incline of metal bones, the space underneath a hollow hole of shadows. It also made the perfect spot to hide and wait.

Almost as soon as I was settled in the dark space, someone moved out on to the steps above me, their weight triggering a low, quiet groan of protest from the

unstable structure. A halo of bobbing light seeped down and I curled tighter against the wall, praying the shadows would keep me hidden. I shifted my gaze

so the light wouldn’t screw with my vision, and followed the illuminating edge

as it came down. Was it Ramirez or someone else?

The figure crept down the last couple of steps, their back against the wall, and their phone, doubling as their flashlight, was in one outstretched hand. From

my concealed position, I watched bare, male legs, then shorts, carefully take each step. When the bite of nicotine followed, I knew it was Ramirez.

He took the last step and stood on the floor, his back to me. He didn’t stay

still long. When he moved out into the open space, I could see he wasn’t armed.

I craned my neck, trying to see beyond the shadows and up the stairs to determine if anyone else lay in wait.

The ear cringing sound of something heavy scraping across the rough floor

snapped my attention back to Ramirez. His soft oath followed before he

continued his slow search of the building.

I didn’t want to lose him, but he was getting further and further away. When

he stepped out of visual range, I crept out of my hidey-hole, and stalked him, gun at the ready. I tried to keep my back covered just in case someone else decided to join us. My skulking skills were kicking ass until I tried to skirt around what I thought was a solid wall but turned out to be a propped-up piece

of deteriorating drywall. My hip caught the edge, sending it crashing to the floor

in a cloud of noise and dust.

Ramirez spun, blinding me with his phone. Hissing, I threw up an arm,

blinking to clear my vision as I dodged away from the heavy footfalls charging

my way. I stumbled back as the debris on the floor became a crippling minefield.

And not just for me. Ramirez’s fingers clawed across my shoulder, only to miss

as he tripped over something. He recovered quickly and I managed to get an arm

up to block an incoming punch but missed the next one that sheared across my

ribs. I spun out of reach and made the mistake of putting too much weight on my

weak leg. It crumpled under me. “Shit!”

Slamming into the floor hurt like hell, but it allowed me to evade his punch, which, had it landed, would have nailed my jaw, knocking me out of

commission. Unfortunately, during the scramble, I lost my grip on my gun and it

disappeared into the darkness. In my ear, Kayden was yelling at me, but I was a

little too busy to answer.

Get up, get up.

My internal chant became a roar. On the floor was not safe, especially not when Ramirez decided to practice his soccer skills. I caught a bone-bruising kick

on my other hip. Gritting my teeth, I slammed my boot into the inside of his bracing leg, and then rolled to push to my feet. My strike didn’t take him out, but

it gave me time to regain my feet.

He stumbled back with a pained bellow. “Fucking bitch.” Then he charged.

Shit, this was going to hurt. The thought barely registered before he hit, his shoulder ramming into my stomach and sending it toward my throat. My breath