Guilty by Karen Robards Read Free Book Online Page B

were soaked with rain. His clothes were plastered to a lean, wide-shouldered body. His wet shirt stuck to his chest in places. Maybe in his mid-thirties, he was good-looking enough to have rated a second glance from her under other, better circumstances. He was down on one knee in the aisle at the head of the wedge, holding his pistol with a two-handed grip. Like the others, it too was aimed straight at Kate.
    No, not at me, she told herself, trying to slow her racing heart. Like the others, his gun was pointed at the man using her as a human shield.
    She just happened to be in the way.
    Her eyes locked with the cop's. He had dark, heavy-lidded eyes that looked almost onyx in the stark overhead light. Their expression was cool, calm, and reassuring. He held her gaze for the briefest of moments before shifting his attention to the man behind her. If he was agitated at all, it didn't show.
    "Let her go," the cop said. Like his eyes, his voice was calm. His pistol never wavered. She knew she was breathing again, because when Orange Jumpsuit tightened his arm around her neck it cut off her air. Gasping for breath, she clutched at his hairy forearm with both hands, not daring to dig in her nails or scratch him for fear he might shoot her if she did. Her heart thundered. Her stomach twisted into a tight knot. Her terrified eyes never left the cop's face.
    He didn't look at her again. His attention was all on the man holding her prisoner.
    "Yeah, right." Orange Jumpsuit gave a jeering laugh and began pulling her to the right, toward the doors to chambers and the secure corridor. She stumbled in the impossible shoes, and he jerked her painfully upright. But the action shifted his grip, and she was once again able to breathe. Relieved, she greedily sucked in air. "What, do you think I'm fucking stupid? You think I don't know I'm looking at the death penalty here?" He hesitated fractionally, and Kate could feel the too-rapid rise and fall of his chest against her back. "I want a helicopter, see. Out in front of this building. In fifteen minutes. Otherwise, I kill her."
    "You kill her, we kill you," the cop said. His tone was the verbal equivalent of a shrug. His lean, dark face was expressionless. His eyes never wavered from her captor. His gun tracked them.
    "Without that helicopter, I'm dead anyway."
    "Not today."
    "Fuck today. I want that helicopter, you hear me? Or she's dead."
    They reached the door to the secure corridor.
    "Open the door," Orange Jumpsuit said in her ear. When Kate didn't immediately comply, he jabbed the mouth of the gun viciously against her cheek, gouging her skin. The pain was quick and sharp. Wincing, she gave a choked little cry and reached for the knob, which she could just see out of the corner of her eye. It was shiny silver and, she discovered as her hand closed around it, slippery beneath her clammy palm.
    Don't turn the knob. Try to delay...
    "Look," she said through dry lips, knowing it was futile even as she tried. "Maybe we could work out a deal. ..."
    "Open the goddamned door. Now."
    "Oh. "The gun jabbed her cheek again, grinding painfully into the hollow below her cheekbone. This time she felt her skin rip. A warm trickle that she knew was blood spilled down her cheek. Breathing hard, the stinging in her cheek a puny thing compared to the terror Hooding her veins, she gave up. The tension in his body, the rapid rasp of his breathing, the copious amounts of heat and sweat pouring off him all told her how very desperate he was. If she pushed him, she was as certain as it was possible to be that he would kill her here and now. Moving as slowly as she dared, she did as he said, managing to turn the knob despite her sweaty skin.
    Inch by reluctant inch, she started to ease open the heavy, solid metal door.
    "Let her go, and you got years to figure out some way to beat the death penalty," the cop said, still conversational, like he was discussing the weather. Her eyes clung to his face beseechingly. Not