Station Alpha: (Soldiering On #1) by Aislinn Kearns Page B

choking her words.
    “Yeah, but it’ll be okay. I need you to come up just one floor. Level 15. Can you do that for me?”
    She nodded, and breathed a quick, “Yeah,” before hanging up the phone. He hated being out of contact with her, but she no longer had a cellphone. He watched in horror as she scooped up all the things that Sam had brought her and carried them to the door. She should leave them, but he knew calling to tell her that would just slow her down.
    The three men were still in the elevator. They didn’t fidget, just stood stock still, waiting. Clearly professionals, if the guns hadn’t already given them away.
    Christine made it out of the apartment, but it took her a few precious seconds in the hallway to figure out which way the stairs were. He gritted his teeth as she finally saw them, in the corner to her right. She took off at a run, making it into the stairwell and starting the climb.
    The elevator slowed to a stop with a soft ding as Christine made it to the door that led to the 15 th floor. A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. She’d be safe. She’d made it.
    The three men exited the elevator as Paul watched Christine step out into the corridor. She froze. Paul’s heart climbed into his mouth as he stared at the screen, trying to figure out what she was doing.
    Her pursuers moved out of the view of the elevator camera, so Paul turned back to the vision on Christine, her arms squeezing the bags she’d taken with her. A movement flickered at the corner of the screen. It grew larger, taking up a full quarter of the frame opposite Christine before Paul realised that it was a suited man. Shit.
    Panicked, Paul flicked to another camera, but that was worse. It proved beyond doubt that Christine was standing in the same corridor as the three armed men that wanted to take her, with the door to Paul’s apartment standing like a sentinel between them.
    Even as his mind was realising that the men must have pressed the button for floor 15, his body was reaching towards the cache of weapons he had lined on the wall next to the desk. He selected two and set them in his lap before violently spinning the wheels of his chair in the direction of the door.
    He could still see the visual of the corridor. Christine had not moved, apparently rooted to the spot. The three men were advancing on her. He had to time this right.
    He positioned his chair out of the way of the door. Thankfully, it opened to a visual on the three men, giving him better access. He paused, waiting, his ears straining to hear the words that Christine was saying.
    “You can’t hurt me,” she was telling them, her voice shaky. “You want me alive. Or whoever you are working for does.” Brave girl. Admiration swelled in him.
    Paul cracked the door. The lead man’s voice was suddenly clear.
    “Not dead doesn’t mean not hurt.” The sick menace in his voice was palpable.
    Paul opened the door just a little wider, and the three men turned with perfect synchronicity towards him. The look of surprise on their faces would have been comical in different circumstances. Using their shock, hoping it would slow their reaction, Paul raised the gun and fired. Once. Twice. He took out two of the guys before the third reacted, firing his own gun in Paul’s direction.
    He ducked, splinters of wood spraying across his back as the impact of the bullet sounded above him. Christine let out a cry, but Paul didn’t allow himself to be distracted. He flung himself forward onto the floor of the corridor, throwing off the guy’s aim. Before the impact had even run its course through his body, Paul was firing, emptying the clip in the man’s direction. Most of the bullets found their mark, jerking the guy’s body backwards with each hit. The loud crack of the gun echoed in the small corridor, ringing in his ears.
    The man hit the wall with a thunk, his brows pulling low as he stared at Paul. The light died in his eyes before he hit the