Secret Refuge. Dana Mentink

Keeley long enough to realize that for some reason that he could not fathom, that was exactly where she seemed to be going. “Can’t ease your mind on that count.”

      “And you’re right behind her.” Reggie sighed. “At least you’re armed.”

      Mick remained silent.

      “You don’t have a gun?” Reggie thundered. “How are you gonna take him out before he kills the girl?”

      How many times after he’d left the marines had he found himself reaching for a gun when a car backfired or a stranger approached just a little too quickly? Which was exactly why he’d promised himself he’d never again carry one.

      “You’ve gotta keep her off that rooftop until I get there. You stay off, too.”

      “I’m pulling up in the parking lot right now.” Mick disconnected. Keeley’s car was there, but no sign of her. He raced to the front and rattled the doors—locked. What would her second move be? Same as his, the fire escape. He hastened to the nearest set of ladders. The rusted metal scraped at his fingers, the rungs creaked under his weight as he took the first step.

      Two rungs up and a voice called out, “Hey.” Fingers grabbed at his calf.

      He whirled and barely had time to check his reflexive kick as he jumped down. It was the vet guy. John something or other.

      John’s eyes were narrowed into suspicious slits. “What are you doing here?”

      Mick’s first rule: never give away any information unless strictly necessary. “Not your business.”

      “If you’re here because of Keeley, it is my business.” John stepped between him and the ladder.

      Mick did not want to take the time. “Can’t talk now. Get out of my way.”

      “And what if I don’t?”

      He sighed. “Look. If you want to fight, we’ll do it later. Right now, I have reason to believe Keeley is heading for trouble. Move, or I’ll have to go through you.”

      John’s lips tightened, but he did as Mick demanded. Smart.

      “Should I call the police?” he yelled up.

      Mick’s second rule: never waste time answering a question that someone already knew the answer to. Mick left him to stew over that decision as he raced up the ladder. Back in the day as a young marine, he could have made the climb easily. Now, in spite of his rigorous fitness regimen, his knee, torn and abused over the years, complained after the second floor. He pressed on.

      One more flight and he was at the top. He risked a quick look and his heart lurched. Keeley stood next to Tucker Rivendale. When Tucker caught a glimpse of Mick, he darted an arm around her throat, the blade of a knife held under her jaw. She looked more perplexed than scared.

      “Come on up, Mick,” Tucker called. “Might as well make this a party.”

      Mick stepped onto the roof. “Did he hurt you?” he asked Keeley.

      “You never did trust me, did you?” Tucker said, with a laugh.

      “I did, and that was a mistake I won’t make again.”

      “Maybe it’s her you should be doubting.” He squeezed Keeley around the shoulders. She flinched. Tucker shook his head. “She’s a liar, you know. She’s lied to me for three years now, trying to take my kid.”

      Keeley stiffened. “June isn’t yours. You never wanted her. You killed LeeAnn, and you don’t deserve to be a father.”

      Tucker’s eyes went wide. “I’m guilty, huh, end of story? You get to decide that I don’t have the right to be a father to my own kid?”

      “Let her go, Tucker,” Mick said. “You killed that little girl’s mother. In my book, that strips your dad status.”

      “Everyone in this world is a dirty liar.” Tucker pushed Keeley away and she sprawled on the rooftop. Mick edged closer, between Keeley and Tucker. Now she had a chance; the playing field was more level. There was no way to win a knife fight without some serious bloodshed, but he could hold Tucker off long enough for Keeley to scramble down from the fire escape.

      Tucker’s mouth twisted. “Listen, man. I know you’ve been helping them all this time to find me.”

      “True. You’re a murderer, you deserve to be incarcerated.”

      “I deserve plenty, but not the blame for killing LeeAnn.”

      Mick grunted. “Save me the sob story. You’re going to prison where you belong.”

      Tucker pointed the knife at Mick, eyes narrowed. “I thought you were different.”

      “Because I was gullible enough to be manipulated by you?” Shame flooded his insides until he shut it down. “Take your best shot, Tucker. You’re only going to get one.”

      “Don’t want it to be this way.” Tucker weighted back on his heels, crouched low.

      Mick did the same, hoping his reflexes were a match for his younger opponent. He had plenty of hand-to-hand combat training, but his arm still throbbed from the wound Tucker had given him before. If he’d had a gun, as Reggie supposed he did...

      Something sailed through the air and over Tucker’s head. He jerked as Keeley reached for another bit of broken wood that littered the rooftop and hurled it as fast as she could, fury convulsing her face. Her aim wasn’t good. Many of them plunked into Mick’s shoulders and one struck him in the cheek, but it was enough to get Tucker off balance.

      As Tucker raised an arm to shield his face, Mick reached to pull her away.

      A gunshot exploded from behind the pile of pallets.

      Mick launched himself at Keeley and brought her to the ground, covering his body with hers as another shot sent bits of the concrete roof flying through the air. The bullets sent the parrots on the next building into a cacophony of panicked squawks and flapping wings. The air was alive with green feathery bodies.

      When the shots died away, he dared to lift his head and look up. Tucker was not visible from his line of sight. He scrambled to his feet and took Keeley’s hand, pulling her around the back side of a ventilation duct, some small protection from whoever was unloading bullets in their direction.

      Keeley sucked in a breath, face dead white. “Is someone trying to help? Or are they aiming for us?”

      * * *

      Mick’s face betrayed the same disbelief that Keeley was sure hers did, only he showed no trace of the wild fear that beat in her own heart. There was only rage in the taut lines of his jaw and lips. He held her wrist tightly, almost painfully so, crouched as if to leap up at any moment. “Stay here,” he whispered.

      “Okay. My legs have turned to rubber anyway,” she whispered back.

      His lips quirked for a moment. Then he was gone.

      Keeley pressed close to the air duct, trying to steady her quivering muscles. She could hear the parrots still screeching from the nearby trees at the violation of their nesting area. She felt as if hers had been violated, too. First Tucker, appearing like a horrible nightmare, and then some crazy rooftop shooter. Was she dreaming? No, the convulsive squeeze of her panicked heart was all too real.

      Where was Tucker? Even now, was he circling around behind her with his knife? She scooped up a board knocked loose from one of the pallets. It would have to do. If he wanted to kill her like he had her sister, she sure wasn’t going to make it easy for him.

      The sound of running feet made her breath hitch. She readied the board. Mick appeared around the corner, a trickle of blood running from the wound on his cheek. Something had changed in the stern lines of his mouth. “Come on out.”

      “But...” She found she was talking to his back as he strode toward the spot where Tucker had been moments before.