Hot Pursuit by Christina Skye Page B

captor squeezed in closer. Taylor took a breath, preparing to jackknife her body forward before he could stop her.
    Better to break both legs than take a bullet in the head.

Chapter Six

    Jack listened tensely to the wail of approaching sirens.
    Izzy should have passed on his description to the locals by now. Getting his head split open by one of Frisco’s hotshot SWAT snipers would make a perfect lead-in on the evening news.
    He secured his Beretta, making certain it rode snug at the small of his back, and blocked out the room mentally. One assailant out of sight in the manager’s office, with female hostage in custody. Second assailant down, thanks to a swift blow to the back of the head. Third assailant struggling with Rains.
    Jack circled silently until he was directly behind Rains and his captor. When he was in position, he threw the can of beer hard in the opposite direction, drawing instant fire. During the momentary distraction, Jack shot the weapon from the man’s hand, then drove him to the floor, cutting off his curses with a blow to the neck.
    Now for Taylor.
    He closed in on the frightened clerk. “What’s back there?”
    â€œAn office. The freight dock, too.”
    â€œAny windows in the office?”
    The old man nodded. “One. Very high.”
    â€œCould a man fit through?”
    The clerk frowned. “If the man is not so big, yes.”
    â€œWhat about two people?”
    â€œVery difficult, I think. You will save the lady?”
    â€œI’m going to save the lady,” Jack said tensely.
    He headed for the back corridor, running through shooting scenarios. Hostage situations were a SEAL specialty, and Jack had trained for every version. Usually he wasn’t handling the situation from inside the perimeter, however.
    The pregnant woman began to cry quietly as glass shattered somewhere at the back of the building. Something struck the back door.
    Jack brushed a small pin on the collar of his worn gray shirt. “Izzy?”
    â€œCopy.”
    â€œTwo assailants unconscious on the sales floor. Harris Rains, the clerk, and a pregnant customer are frightened but unharmed. Taylor O’Toole is being held in the manager’s office by one remaining assailant. Store is otherwise clear.”
    â€œCopy” came the low voice at his earphone. “Police are on the scene.” Izzy’s voice was clipped. “Stick with Rains.”
    â€œWhat about Taylor?”
    Izzy took a sharp breath. “The Feds are tied up tracking Rains’ South American pals. Your orders are to stick with Rains until they take over.”
    Beyond the window Jack heard the bark of a bullhorn, and then the front door burst open. A SWAT officer emerged with rifle leveled.
    There was loud cursing from the back room, then the sound of a chair falling over. Crouched out of sight behind the coffee unit, Jack watched Rains throwing up into a big garbage bin.
    Someone’s purse was on the floor about four feet away from Rains’ quaking body.
    The nearest SWAT officer scowled and motioned to the medic who had followed him in. “Everyone flat on the floor,” he ordered. “Do it now.”
    â€œS.F.P.D. is here, Izzy. I’m going after Taylor,” Jack said quietly. “Tell the locals.”
    â€œThey won’t like it.”
    â€œTo hell with liking it. Just tell them. And give them our descriptions so they don’t decide to take us out as perps.”
    â€œCopy.”
    Two more SWAT officers pounded through the front door, followed by a second medic. All were wearing masks.
    Hell.
Masks meant tear gas, and that meant his time was running out.
    Jack crouch-walked silently toward the rear corridor. His weapon was level when he kicked open the door with his foot.
    The man in the torn sweatshirt was balanced on a chair against the far wall. In a blur of movement Jack swept the room and sighted on the base of the man’s neck for a clear