Deep Sleep (Devin Gray #1)(6)

“I’m on the move,” said Devin.

He bolted down the hallway, instantly slowing to a less suspicious pace when the door to four thirty-two suddenly swung inward. Chase backed out of the room, an elegant hand with bright-red nail polish yanking him halfway back inside. Devin kept walking, ready to play dumb if she leaned her head out and spotted him.

“I’m sorry!” said Chase, tugging fruitlessly at her grip. “I changed my mind! I can’t do this!”

“Nobody will ever find out!” said the woman, only her arms visible to Devin.

She had him locked in place with a serious two-hand grip, which Devin found somewhat unusual. Devin removed the expandable baton from his suit coat and concealed it along the side of his leg.

“I don’t care,” said Chase, struggling to break her grasp. “Let go of me!”

The DA team rounded the corner at the opposite end of the hallway, six operatives rapidly headed in his direction. Their timing was solid. Everything was coming together as planned. Now he just needed to get Chase out of here safely, which appeared a little more complicated than he’d originally hoped.

“He’s not cooperating,” the woman stated abruptly. “We’re gonna have to do this the hard way.”

A lot more complicated. The honey trap had just turned into a kidnapping—or worse. Chase turned to Devin, a worried look on his face. His earpiece screeched.

“Get him out of there now!”

He flicked the baton open, the telescoping steel pieces snapping loudly into place. The woman poked her head through the doorway, glancing from Devin’s face to the sixteen-inch steel baton in his hand. She turned her head in the other direction, spotting the team that had started to stack up on the door leading to room four thirty-four.

“It’s a setup!” she said before taking a solid strike to the forehead from Devin’s baton.

She released her grip on Brian’s arm and dropped to her knees, eyes wide and out of focus. He’d hit her with enough force to stun or possibly knock her unconscious. The end result was still inconclusive, which represented a threat to the other team.

“Honey trap requires restraint,” said Devin, pulling Chase away from the doorway.

“Is she out?”

“Negative,” said Devin.

“Hit her until she’s out. Then move Chase to safety. The DA team has its hands full.”

He really didn’t want to hit her in the head again. It wasn’t as though he could dial in the desired amount of force, and the head could be tricky when hit repeatedly. But the situation had changed drastically enough to justify it. The DA team faced an alerted threat in room four thirty-four. The last thing they needed was a surprise coming at them from an unexpected direction.

“Copy,” he said, raising the baton.

“What are you doing?” asked Chase, grabbing his arm.

He shrugged his arm loose and brought the baton down on the crown of her head with the same force he’d used for the first blow—switching her off like a light. She collapsed flat on her stomach, half of her on the hallway carpet, the other half on the polished marble foyer, just inside the room, jet-black wig a few inches askew to reveal strawberry-blonde hair.

Chase mumbled some kind of religious prayer.

“She’ll be fine,” said Devin, not exactly buying his own statement. “Stay right next to me. Like we rehearsed. Do exactly what I say.”

Devin had just started moving him toward the stairwell when all hell broke loose behind them as the DA team vanished into room four thirty-four. Ferocious shouting, followed by the snap, crackle, pop of Tasers and stun batons. The shouting had morphed into panicked screaming by the time they reached the door to the stairs. He couldn’t tell which side had the upper hand.

“I’m entering the stairwell with Chase,” he said. “What’s going on back in the room?”

“It’s under control.”

“It doesn’t sound under control,” said Devin, scanning the stairwell through the door’s window.

“Just get Chase into the SUV. That’s your only objective.”

“Understood. Will advise when ready for pickup,” said Devin before turning to Chase. “Just like we planned.”

The moment the door closed behind them, the plan unraveled. Urgent footsteps echoed inside the stairwell, and the two hostile suits from the rooftop bar raced into sight on the flight of stairs below them. Devin hid the baton along the side of his leg as Chase moved behind him and started praying. The two men produced nasty-looking serrated blades and cautiously advanced up the stairs.

“Contact. Two armed hostiles. Fourth-floor stairwell. Sending Chase to your position,” said Devin, motioning for Chase to take off.

“Copy. Sending backup your way.”

“You know where to go, right?” he said to Chase.

Chase nodded, his eyes glued to the two men steadily approaching.

“Then go,” said Devin. “Now!”

Chase took off, and the men bolted up the stairs side by side, heading straight for Devin. He waited until the last possible moment before pretending to follow Chase up the stairs—instead squaring off at the foot of the stairs, just out of their sight, and raising the baton. As he’d hoped, the two men bunched up taking the corner, the first head to appear absorbing a full-force, diagonal blow to the temple from Devin’s baton. The crack against his skull left no doubt that he was out of the fight.