Kristina grunted as if trying to come up, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the threat, he’d have to pray that the tiny rope and ledge held. The rogue flipped around and landed a roundhouse kick to his head and Derrick dropped to the ground. Before he could stand up, he landed another. He was stronger than any other creatus he’d fought and he was fast. The next time the rogue kicked, he grabbed his leg, dropping him to the ground. But in a flash, he was back on his feet again.
Derrick swung, but he ducked, landing a solid punch to his kidneys, sending him to his knees. And then he heard the crack of concrete.
“Derrick!” Kristina cried.
Derrick came back up, grabbing the rogue and pulling his arms behind his back. He threw him to the concrete, pinning him with his arms strapped behind him. Derrick glanced to the rope holding Kristina. It was unraveling. He watched as individual strands popped.
“Kristina?” he called to her. “Are you still on the ledge?”
“No…” she cried. “The one below my feet is gone, but I think I can hold onto the ledge above me.”
“I already whittled them away, Derrick,” the rogue growled in a raspy, unrecognizable voice. “The ledge will give way the moment the rope breaks.”
Derrick slammed the rogue’s head against the concrete, hoping it would knock him out and ran toward the sound of the snapping rope. He launched, but the rope slipped out of his reach. He darted to the edge of the rooftop, thankful to see Kristina holding onto the ledge, but he could see the hairline cracks and knew it’d only be a couple of seconds before the ledge gave way. He glanced over his shoulder at the rogue, who still lay on the concrete, but assumed he’d be up in a second.
As he tried to decide whether to go back and immobilize him, he heard the crack. It was too late; he had to make a choice. Save Kristina or secure the rogue.
Vic turned to the sound of the crack. The man she’d protected had a gun in his hand and had shot the rogue she’d been fighting.
“Victoria,” the rogue called behind her. No, not the rogue, she realized. “Michael?” That’s why he hadn’t fought back, only tried to stop her advances. She darted to his side, falling to her knees beside him. “I don’t understand. You’re the rogue?”
Blood seeped out of his mouth. And she realized the man had shot him. “No… for you. Everything for you. I love you…” he gurgled out. “The agent… get the brief… case.” Michael collapsed on the ground.
Vic pulled off her jacket and pressed it to his side, layering his hand over the top to stop the blood. She stood and launched herself at the human she’d been trying to protect. He was still on the ground. Evidently he’d put up a fight against Michael. She grabbed the briefcase and then hovered over him.
Pulling off her belt, she latched it around the man’s wrist several times. “If he dies,” she growled in his ear, “I’ll kill you myself.”
The blond-haired man’s eyes were wide, but he didn’t look scared; he looked to be in shock.
Vic raced over to Michael and pulled him up, allowing him to rest against her side. She walked back toward the man and dragged him by her belt. She obviously couldn’t let him go now that he’d seen them. Derrick would know what to do, but first, she needed to get Michael to the center. After she threw the agent in the cargo area of her SUV, latching him to the seatbelt and strapping Michael in the front, she called Lynford on his cell.
He answered immediately. “Derrick and I have been looking for you, Vic. Where are you?”
“Lyn, there’s no time to talk. Meet me at the clinic,” she panted out. “Michael’s been shot.”
Lyn hung up the phone without a word. It was the same characteristic she’d admired in Derrick. He thought quickly, no questions asked.
Vic stomped on the gas and headed toward the clinic.
Michael? Why now? Just when she’d thought… Why had Michael told her to meet him at the pub if he’d planned to confront the agent? Everything for her, he’d said.
As soon as she pulled up in front of the clinic, there were several nurses waiting. Lyn had apparently called, notifying them of her arrival. She watched as they pulled Michael out, transferring him to a gurney. She parked the vehicle and then opened the rear hatch, pulling the agent out on the concrete, not concerned whether she injured him.
The man looked up at her again. His eyes and mouth were swollen. A mere human had given Michael a challenge, but she was certain that Michael had never meant to hurt him; he only wanted whatever was in the case.
“What are you?” the man slurred.
She punched him, knocking him out cold, and then carried him into the rear entry of the clinic.
Chapter Forty-one
Derrick bounded over the side of the building at the same time the ledge gave way. He grabbed Kristina’s arm and then attempted to grasp on to anything he could. He couldn’t secure a grip. All he could do was slow their descent as he held onto her with one arm, pulling her against his side, and groping at the wall with the other. “Hang on to me, Kristina!” he yelled. She latched her arms around him tightly, freeing his other hand. He clawed at the wall, slowing their fall. Derrick peered below them, making sure they had a clear path before he dropped. Skin had already ripped from his fingers, and he didn’t know how much longer he could dig bloody flesh into the building and still maintain his grasp. At two hundred feet, they were within dropping distance, so he swung her up in his arms and dropped, his body taking the force and allowing his arms to fall further to lessen the jolt on her body. After all, his body was made for this; hers wasn’t. He removed the blindfold and realized the impact had still knocked her unconscious.
He heard a man’s laugh and glanced up to see the black-clad figure leaning over the wall. The rogue saluted and took off.
Derrick glanced around the alley, praying no one had witnessed his stunt. Thankfully, one thing had gone right. Well, two, his wife was in his arms, which was more important than anything else in his life. But the rogue was gone, and it was clear he wasn’t going to give up.
He stood with Kristina, cradling her like a child and then walked inside the lobby of his building, ignoring the shocked face of the doorman as he strode toward the elevator to the parking deck. He was sure the blood dripping from his fingertips and an unconscious woman in his arms was enough reason to call the police, but as always, he’d come up with a story. He hadn’t been prepared, nor did he care at the moment. He just wanted to get Kristina to his vehicle and drive her to the clinic so he could check to make sure she didn’t have any internal injuries.
After reclining the front seat and strapping her in, he vaulted over the vehicle to the driver’s door. For the first time in his life, he didn’t care who saw him; he only cared about his wife.
He hit the “call” button on the steering wheel and clicked “recent calls”. The clinic’s nighttime receptionist picked up, rattling off her name.
“Roseanne, it’s Derrick. I need you to call my father and tell him he needs to meet me at the clinic. Tell him I’m bringing Kristina. She may have internal injuries.”
“Um…” She paused, making him want to crawl through the phone, as if she had any right to question him, but he held his tongue, waiting to hear her great excuse. “Um… Dr. Ashton… Your father, excuse me, Dr. Ashton is already here… for your brother.”