shipping pallets. The Ghoul yanked a gun from his belt, raised his weapon and fixed Noah in his sights.
Holly struck before the thug could fire, leaping to her feet like a fury and spinning, swinging the folding chair around behind her like a weapon. The metal legs caught the criminal in the back of his knees and sent him stumbling forward onto the ground. The gun misfired, and the bullet flew somewhere high above their heads.
Had Holly really been so confident in her ability to disarm the criminal before he could get off a shot that she’d taken the risk of using Noah as a diversion? And a “hey, look behind you!” trick at that? The Ghoul turned back and lunged for her. But Holly was ready for him, with a swift roundhouse kick that sent him stumbling to the floor and the gun flying from his hands. Noah’s heart jolted as if someone had just sent an electric current shooting through it. She was fighting back, against an armed kidnapper, with her hands still tied to a chair, even as he could see her strength and energy flagging.
Noah was beyond shocked. He was even beyond impressed.
Above all, he was determined that she wouldn’t fight alone. The metal catwalk stretched out on either side of him. Staircases descended into the warehouse at opposite ends. It would take him too long to reach either one, and Holly had been alone without backup long enough.
He vaulted over the railing and let his body drop down into the boxes below.
Holly watched from the corner of her eye as the man on the catwalk dropped out of sight into the piles of boxes. Was she right? Had it been Detective Noah Wilder? She didn’t know for sure. But friend or foe, he’d been a distraction she could use to draw enemy attention while she fought for her survival. And thankfully, she’d disarmed the bigger of the two criminals before he could fire at him.
But now what? Pain still pounded through her head and seemed to radiate through her body. The headache was steadily growing worse. She stumbled forward, feeling the weight of the chair straining her arms and nearly yanking her shoulders out of their sockets. The apparently fake police officer who’d kidnapped her lunged at her once more. She swung the chair around again hard, using the metal frame attached to her wrists as both a weapon and a shield. It made impact, she heard a crack and then—thank God—the weight of the chair fell from her arms as the bottom of the metal frame gave way. She shook herself free.
Okay, her hands were still tied, but at least she’d gotten rid of the chair. Now what?
The dull, worrying ache in her skull was like nothing she’d ever felt before and seemed to radiate through her mind, clouding her ability to think. The big guy was down on the ground now, but even though she’d gotten in a few good blows, she didn’t expect him to stay there for long. The small guy was nowhere to be seen. She spun back, and the room began to spin with her, sliding in and out of focus like a scene from an old-fashioned projector movie that wasn’t sitting right in its frame.
Something was very wrong. Help me, God! Prayers beat like a drum through Holly’s aching mind. She had to get out of there. She ran, darting down the closest aisle in the maze of towering pallets. Shipping containers and plastic-wrapped boxes rose around her, seeming to wave and move as she passed, like seaweed shimmering underwater. She pressed on, looking for an exit and pushing herself deeper into the labyrinthine maze, hearing her kidnappers pelting down the rows behind her, growing closer with every step.
Too late, she saw a man leap down in front of her. He landed in a crouching position, on the balls of his feet. Then he unfurled to his full height, filling the space ahead of her and blocking her way. She was trapped. She couldn’t turn around. There was nowhere to run. The only way out was through.
The man in front of her raised his hands, and all her mind could focus on was that there was a gun in his right one. She didn’t wait to give him the opportunity to point it at her. Holly squared her shoulders, lowered her head and ran right at him, like he was nothing but a tackling dummy back in basic training. Help me, Lord!
“Corporal Asher!” His voice, deep and warm, spoke her name. “Holly!”
Detective Noah Wilder? She knew his voice. How did he know her real name? But it was too late for her to stop. She crashed into him, keeping her head low and her body strong. But instead of knocking him out of the way, she felt his arms part, as if to catch and receive her. She landed against his chest and he wrapped his arms around her. They tumbled onto the ground, with him on his back and her on top of him, her hands still tied behind her.
Two sets of footsteps were coming toward them now.
“I’m sorry,” Noah started. “Are you hurt?”
Sorry for what? Startling her? Catching her?
“You with them?” she asked.
“No—”
“Then let’s get out of here before they kill us.”
“Hang on.” He didn’t even hesitate. “We’re going to roll.”
Hang on how? And to what? He holstered his gun, tucked her head into the crook of his neck and lowered his own head over hers. His arms clasped tighter and then he rolled, taking her with him and sliding their bodies under the shelter of a thick blue tarp covering a pallet nearby. Footsteps and voices grew closer. He yanked the tarp down, covering them like the flap of a tent.
“You’re Wilder, right?” she whispered into his ear.
“Yeah. But I told you to call me Noah.” His voice seemed to surround her in the darkness. “I’m an RCMP detective specializing in witness protection, and I’m here to get you out of this alive.” Got it. “Is it okay if I call you Holly?”
“Sure.” Right now that was the least of her worries. Her kidnappers grew closer, until she heard them pass just inches away from where they hid.
“Where did she go?” The man’s voice was thin, whiny and matched his slight frame.
“I don’t know!” the larger one snapped back.
“She saw our faces! She can identify us! We can’t let her out of here alive!”
They were right that she’d seen her kidnappers’ faces, and yet, as the pain pounded through her brain, somehow she couldn’t seem to draw a clear picture of them in her mind. She held her breath and prayed silently as the sound of their footsteps faded into the distance. Then she turned her attention back to the strong man who was lying beside her and still holding her in his arms.
“Don’t worry,” Noah whispered. “I’ve got you.”
Had he now? Did that mean he had any idea what was going on and how they were going to make it out alive?
“Now,” Noah added, “if it’s okay with you, I’d like you to roll over onto your other side so I can check your wrists and untie your hands.”
He loosened his hold on her body and she rolled away from him. Her head was hurting less now that she was lying down and the world had gotten quieter. The headache was probably nothing and she’d be fine just as soon as she rested.
She felt his fingers move against her wrists. “Hang on... Did you actually ask permission to free my hands?”
“Not a big fan of touching someone who might be upset without asking first,” he said. “Well, anyone, really. Now, I’m going to use my knife, okay?”
“Go for it.” She listened. She couldn’t hear her kidnappers’ footsteps or voices anymore, but that didn’t mean they’d gone far.
“Who are they?” she whispered. “Why were they dressed as cops?”
“They’re cyber terrorists,” Noah