AMBUSHED by REBECCA YORK Page A

his hand.
    He rolled on top of her, covering her body
with his as a shock wave hit and debris fell around them, rubble
peppering his back.
    When the deadly rain ebbed, he raised his
head and looked around. Chunks of cement had flattened cars to
their right, but they’d been far enough from the blast zone to
avoid the worst of it. Which didn’t mean they were safe.
    “You all right?” he asked urgently.
    “I think so. Are you?”
    “Yeah,” he answered, blinking to clear his
vision.
    They had to get out of here. Fast. But when
he scanned the garage exit behind them, he saw armed men racing
toward the car. Unfortunately, they didn’t look like cops or
security guards.
    Elizabeth followed his gaze, gasping as she
spotted the men closing in on them.
    Their only option was to sprint into the
building.
    Grabbing her hand, he pulled her up and led
her toward the right, behind a row of cars that gave them some
cover.
    But he couldn’t shoot it out with these
guys. There were too many of them, and their UZIs beat out his
SIG.
    “This way.”
    Hugging the wall, they ran up a ramp to the
next level of the garage where a few more cars were parked. When he
saw the exit was on the other side of the lane, he cursed under his
breath. Speed was of the essence, yet he hesitated to run headlong
across the open space.
    Still, he knew they had to chance it.
    He pointed toward the door. “We’ve got to
get over there. Crouch low. Run as fast as you can.”
    He went first, to draw fire. Every second
they were out in the open had his nerves screaming, but they made
it across. Easing the door open, he checked to see that the
stairwell beyond was empty, then drew Elizabeth inside. Too bad the
flimsy lock wasn’t going to stop the guys with the guns. When they
didn’t find him and Elizabeth in the garage, they’d start searching
the building.
    “Do you have your cell phone?” he asked.
    She dug into her purse, pulled it out and
handed it to Jordan.
    With a sigh of relief, he dialed the Decorah
Security’s emergency number. Frank Decorah answered, and it was
clear he already knew what was happening.
    “Jordan. Tried to warn you.”
    “Too late,” he clipped out.
    “Is Elizabeth Bannerman all right?”
    “Yes.”
    “Where are you?”
    “North stairwell. Hostiles blocking the
garage entrance.”
    “Teddy Granada just intercepted a coded
e-mail.” Decorah named one of the company’s computer geeks. “The
terrorists have at least ten men in the building.”
    “Shit. Can you get us off the roof?”
    “Negative. Unless we get clearance for a
flight into DC. Emma Richards and Cole Marshall are on their way
down there, along with the FBI . . .”
    A burst of gunfire from below interrupted
the conversation. The bad guys had busted through the locked
door.
    “Gotta go.” Jordan clicked off and turned to
Elizabeth. “Come on.”
    They raced up two more levels of the
stairwell. Cautiously Jordan opened the door and looked out.
    “Clear.” Except for the dead body on the
floor, he silently added.
    He tried to steer Elizabeth away, but it was
impossible to avoid the limp form and the pool of blood.
    She made a strangled sound when she saw him.
“It’s Nelson Andrews.”
    The federal prosecutor she’d come to
meet.
    “I’m sorry.”
    “He was good man.”
    The exchange was cut off when they heard
footsteps pounding up the stairs.
    With no options, he ushered Elizabeth into
an empty office a few doors down the hall. The blinds were
partially closed, and he looked around in the dim light for cover.
The desk was too obvious, but a bank of storage cabinets blocked
the view from the door. When he gestured toward them, Elizabeth
wedged herself into the corner and he stepped in front of her, gun
drawn.
    Of course, if he had to shoot, he’d alert
every terrorist in the building.
    “Jordan?” she whispered as she pressed
against his back.
    “It’s going to be all right.”
    “Maybe.”
    Down the hall, he could hear doors