Chapter 4

Chapter Four

T he wail of the alarm sent a jolt of panic through Kira. She swayed on her feet. Before she embarrassed herself by tumbling down the stairs, Rand was there to steady her. She wanted to lean into him, but jerked back instead.

He'd seen enough of her weakness.

"Active shooter?" Her voice squeaked because her throat was tight with fear.

"That can't be…" He had his phone out and was looking at the screen. "My phone says the same. Shit." He nodded toward the stairs. "Go up."

"Why not go back to the lecture hall? I've got the key. We can lock ourselves in."

"Ground-floor windows. A shooter could see us from outside before we have a chance to pull all the blinds. Plus, there's no good cover there. Cubicles at least offer lots of hiding places."

She turned and headed up the flight of stairs. Her shoes clacked on the steps, and she slowed her pace to mute the sound. Surely, she wouldn't be so unlucky that the shooter would show up in this building of all the potential targets on base, but if they did, she wouldn't make it easy for them to find her.

Now that it was after five, she and Rand might be the only people left in this office building, which served civilian NAVFAC employees. Behind her, Rand's steps were silent. His breathing was silent. She only knew he was there because…she could feel his presence.

The stairs ended in a vestibule with two doors, one of which opened to a large room—at least half the size of the entire floor—with a maze of cubicles.

Rand whispered in her ear. "Head toward the center. Stay away from the windows. Crouch low. Take cover under a desk. If you find one with a filing cabinet or a table with a skirt to hide behind, even better."

She realized he didn't plan to hide with her, and another wave of fear washed through her. But of course, they both couldn't fit—and be fully hidden—beneath a single desk. And…he was a SEAL. He might not take shelter at all.

When they were a good distance from all windows in a sea of eyebrow-height—his, not hers—cubicle walls, she turned to him. He wore a camouflage combat uniform, but she didn't see any kind of weapon on his hip. "Do you have a gun?" she whispered.

He gave a short jerk of his head. "There's strict control of guns on base. Not allowed in classrooms like yours."

The alarm, which had repeated at a regular interval, now went silent. "Any chance that means it's all clear?"

He shook his head. "If it were, they'd say so. Probably they realized the alarm provided the shooter cover."

His phone lit up, and she realized he'd silenced it. Which was probably standard protocol for an active shooter and sheltering in place. She pulled her own phone out and made sure it was still in silent mode.

She resumed her search for a cubicle with an inviting hiding place. She told herself this was just an inconvenience. She might miss her flight to Malta, but that was all. No way would the shooter target this obviously empty building.

Just an inconvenience.

Still, her heart raced and her hands shook as she scanned workspace after workspace for a decent hiding spot.

This wasn't happening.

It wasn't her turn to face random gun violence.

She should be skipped on that rotation given that she'd faced very serious non-random violence just six months ago.

She heard a burst of gunfire. Several shots in rapid succession. Outside.

She froze, her whole body seizing as adrenaline surged.

No. This can't be happening.

It's outside. I'm safe here. With Rand.

He grabbed her shoulders and nudged her toward the nearest cubicle. They were past the point of wasting time in hopes of finding the perfect hiding place. Any cover would do now.

He pushed her, pointing to the gap under the desk. She did what he wanted and crouched down, crawling backward so she faced out.

He bent down. His lips brushed the scar on her forehead, the lightest touch, then he wrangled a low, horizontal file cabinet out a few inches, providing a small gap for her to hide behind.

He pushed a wheeled chair in front of her, then she was alone.

The only sound in the vast room was the rapid, heavy pounding of her heart.

R and grabbed a pair of scissors from a desk and snapped them in half. It wasn't much, but it was something. He scanned the room for the best place to position himself.

His gut said the guy was coming.

The gunfire was close. Too close.

The room had four entrances, one near each corner. If the guy entered this building, which way would he come from?

His phone offered a description of the shooter and listed the buildings in the vicinity where he was last spotted. In the parking lot outside this building.

White lone gunman. Wearing a Navy Working Uniform—NWU—Type III. Hair color unknown due to the utility cover worn with the uniform.

No reports of injuries yet. Just shots fired.

The most recent shots had been fired at a vehicle. No word on if the hatchback was occupied. The alert was updated with the vehicle's make and model. Rand's heart would have seized if he didn't have years of training under his belt.

He'd parked next to that car on purpose.

He'd first seen it last December, and later, he'd spotted it outside Morgan and Pax's house when he left their baby shower with Staci. Dr. Kira Hanson's nearly twenty-year-old blue Toyota Prius.

Why shoot at Kira's car?

Why target this office building after hours? Kira's final class had ended fifteen minutes before the alert sounded. The building had emptied out quickly, with the exception of stragglers waiting for a private chat with the instructor. Rand had outwaited them all because he'd wanted privacy.

Kira's name and the details of her class had been all over the base chats. But it was also possible Diana was the target—no one expected Kira to step in today, and Diana's class had been listed for weeks.

Diana didn't have enemies within the military, but several terrorist groups had reason to want her dead. Likewise, Kira would be testifying when her abductors were put on trial in a few months.

Was Kira still in danger? The guy who'd hired henchmen to abduct her was wealthy and connected. He could easily contract a hit from jail—where he was currently residing while awaiting trial because he'd been denied bail. He might not care if he got Diana or Kira. Or he might want to take out both women. He would spend the rest of his life in prison even without Kira's or Diana's testimony, but he was a vindictive SOB.

Rand sent a text to his team, giving his and Kira's position and alerting them that the shooter had targeted her vehicle. From the texts he'd received, he knew the guys on his team who were still on base at this hour were mobilizing. That included new team members Burns and Collins, along with old-timers Meyers and Kramer.

This was their turf. SEAL teams 2, 4, 10, and 18 were based here. Did the gunman really think he would escape? Or was this a suicide mission?

Plan set, Rand moved toward the door that was nearest the parking lot where Kira had parked.

If this guy was coming for Kira, he was in for a surprise.

The familiar roar of machine gun fire caused the windows to rattle. This time, the sound came from inside the building.