Page 6 of First Contact (Guardsmen Security)

Kat bit down on her tongue so she wouldn’t scream.

Burke had shot a male hostage with no hesitation, holding him against the window as a signal—or a warning—for all to see. The man slid to the floor, leaving blood smeared on the glass. Behind her, panic surged through the remaining hostages, a mixture of muffled screams and shocked inhalations.

She squeezed her eyes tight, wanting to wipe the image from her eyes. Burke had no moral compass. Negotiations with a man like him would be worthless?—

A muted thump.

She opened her eyes.Thick, acrid smoke billowed from the far corner of the room, filling the space in seconds. Her vision failed as the air grew dense, choking.

“Breach!”

The shout came from somewhere on the edge of her hearing, followed by a deafening explosion. Wood splintered, fragments raining down. The room erupted in a blinding flash, followed by a concussive blast that rattled her teeth and knocked her to the floor.

What the hell ? —

She coughed, eyes streaming. The hostages. She had to get to the hostages. Pulling her collar up to cover her mouth and nose, she crawled forward, the floor cold beneath her hands. Voices shouted over the ringing in her ears, commands lost in the chaos.

Gunfire erupted, a rapid, violent staccato that echoed off the walls. She flattened herself against the floor, hands clamped over her ears as bullets ricocheted, sparking off concrete and steel. A heavy thud. Someone—friend or foe, she didn’t know—crashed to the ground nearby.

If I stay here, I’m gonna die.

She pushed up onto her elbows, dragging herself forward inch by inch, her head low. Keep moving. The air was thick, every breath a struggle.

Her hands bumped into something. Feet.

She reached up blindly, grabbing hold. Hands grasped hers in return, trembling but firm. A woman’s face emerged from the haze—tear-streaked, eyes bulging with fear.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” Kat whispered, pulling the woman close. They huddled together, lying the floor, as the firefight raged around them.

Another burst of gunfire. Too close. Kat’s heartbeat was at breaking point. She needed to move, to get them all out before the situation spiraled further.

“Stay down,” she told the woman, squeezing her arm for reassurance. Think. Find a way out.

“Kat. You okay?” A muscular hand gripped her arm. She wiped tears from her blurry eyes.

Leo Bychkov. Tactical goggles perched on his forehead, his face blackened with camo paint. He looked like an avenging angel sent from the depths of hell. His massive frame blocked out what little light filtered through the smoke, a shield between her and Burke’s madmen.

“How the hell did?—”

“Talk later.” Leo dropped to one knee beside her, his blade flashing as he sliced through the restraints binding the other woman’s wrists.

Despite the extreme situation, his actions were controlled—an efficiency that came from years of combat experience.

Without a word, he hauled both Kat and the woman to their feet, his muscled arm steady around them.

He scanned the room, searching for threats, his body positioned to shelter them both.

“I need you to stay close.” His voice was calm, but urgent.

The woman clung to Kat, her trembling transmitted through their joined hands. “I need to go. I need to go.” She suddenly released Kat.

“What? No—” Kat spun, reached for her. Too slow.

Leo was faster. He moved like a striking cobra, six feet of lethal muscle. He caught the woman before she’d taken half a step, slamming her against his side, his arm around her waist. “You stay with me.”

He turned to Kat, his grip on the woman secure. “Come on. We’re getting out of here.”

The room was bedlam—shouts, gunfire, the deafening percussion of boots pounding across shattered glass. But Leo moved like a force of nature beside her, issuing calm, clipped orders as if they weren’t in the middle of a war zone.

“Get them moving. Stairwell’s straight ahead,” he yelled, pointing to the far corner of the room.

Kat nodded, her voice hoarse. “Come on! This way!” She tugged at a trembling woman, guiding her forward, while Leo pulled two more hostages upright, steering them in the same direction.

Gunfire exploded overhead, a harsh, metallic rattle that made Kat flinch instinctively. Leo barely reacted. “Keep low. Stay with them.”

They were halfway to the stairwell, the hostages in a group ahead, when a shadow moved in the smoke—a terrorist, rifle raised.

Leo slammed into Kat, driving her to the floor. The air rushed from her lungs as her back hit the freezing tile, Leo’s solid frame pinning her down.

A crack of gunfire erupted over her head, splintering the wall and sending concrete shards raining down.

Leo’s arm jerked as he returned fire. The sharp retort of his weapon echoed. Then a moment of silence.

For a heartbeat, all she could hear was the frantic rattle of her pulse in her ears, and his ragged breathing.

She twistedand found herself nose to nose with him, his breath fanning warm against her cheek. His eyes locked on hers, dark and intent, and she felt the weight of him in every sense. Not just his body shielding hers, but the fierce protectiveness in his gaze.

The moment broke as he shifted, his voice a low rumble that sensitized her skin. “Stay close. Keep moving.”

He scooped her up like she weighed nothing, hooking his arm around her waist, propelling her back to her feet in one smooth motion.

“Hurry!” he growled, pressing her forward with a hand between her shoulders.

Her attention snapped back to the hostages.

They were huddled near the stairwell, their faces pale and bodies trembling with barely contained panic.

“Go. Now!” she shouted, waving them on. For one endless second, no one moved.

Then the spell broke, and they surged forward as one, stumbling and shoving through the door in their desperation to escape.

Leo stayed behind, laying down cover fire as she herded the hostages down the first flight. The door slammed shut above them as Leo followed, taking the stairs three at a time to catch up.

He grabbed Kat’s arm. “Change of plans. Stairwell’s compromised. They’re coming up from the third floor. There’s a window washer platform, east side. Two rooms over.”

The hostages’ eyes widened in panic. “The maintenance walkway won’t hold?—”

“It will.” He jerked his chin toward a door on their right. “Through there. Fast and quiet.” He pressed a stocky handgun into her palm. Kat hesitated—she’d only met this man hours ago—but something about him made her believe in him.

“You trust me?” His eyes met hers, clear and unwavering, displaying raw determination.

“Yes.” The word came easier than it should have.

His approval warmed his expression for just a moment. “Take point. I’ll cover our six.”

She nodded, mouth sour with fear, and hurried to guide the group forward.

A burst of gunfire erupted behind them. Leo returned fire. “Hurry,” he urged. “We’ve got maybe two minutes before they reach this floor.”

Kat pushed through the door. Empty office space, floor-to-ceiling windows ahead. As he’d promised, the platform hung just outside, swaying slightly in the wind. Her stomach clenched.

This was madness.