Hard Target Read Online Free PDF Page B

there are no laugh lines around his eyes or mouth. In fact, he has no wrinkles at all, due to his weekly appointments with one of the company’s on-staff dermatologists. It baffles me as to why he would go to so much trouble to keep his face young while allowing the grey to come through. Perhaps he likes the contrast.
    I shut the door.
    “That’s not why we’re here.” Steering Morgan to the closet chair, I indicate she should sit. “Morgan’s done nothing wrong. In fact, it’s your security team that should be in here. I was forced to kill a man in your lab. I’m nearly one hundred percent certain that he acted alone, but I texted an alert to security as soon as I found him. They didn’t respond.”
    David’s eyes widen. He grabs his phone and puts in a call to security. “Patterson,” he all but barks. “Are you aware we’ve had a security breach?”
    A long pause.
    “Right. Yes, Mr. Romanov took care of it, but you can pack your bags.” He ends the call by slamming the phone into the cradle. He eyes me a moment. “Once again, I’m in the position of thanking you.”
    “It was no problem at all, sir.”
    He smiles gently at Morgan. “And you, my dear. How are you holding up? I can only imagine how you must feel to survive imminent death. Damned guns are a menace to society.”
    My gaze sharpens on him for a moment.
    “F-fine, sir.” She shrinks into her chair, her hands working in her pockets. What is she doing? “I just want to go home.”
    “Romanov, why don’t you escort her home?”
    I nod. “Of course. Ms. Tanner?”
    She stands, pulling her hands out of her pockets. They’re clenched into tight fists.
    “Ms. Tanner,” David says and she freezes.
    “Yes?” her voice is barely a whisper.
    “Leave the lab coat.”
    Wordlessly, she nods and shrugs out of the coat, then drapes it across the chair. For the life of me, I can’t figure out why she takes my hand, but David doesn’t seem to notice. Most likely, he thinks she’s still recovering from—
    Oh fuck me.
    “Ben?” Her chest rises and falls so rapidly that I’m surprised she’s not hyperventilating.
    “Yes.”
    The door closes behind us. Patrice is no longer at her desk and the hallway is deserted.
    “How did he know that the shooter tried to kill me with a gun, or that he had a gun at all?”
    There’s only one answer to that. David sent the killer himself.
    A group of men dressed in black with guns drawn, round the corner.
    “Run.”
    “What?” she asks.
    I shove her in front of me. “Move your arse!”
    We haul ass to the stairs just as bullets begin to spray the hallway. I kick open the door and pull her behind me. There’s an emergency water hose by the door, something that’s installed on every other floor. I break the glass and wrap it around the handle and stair railing.
    A barrage of bullets ping against the metal door, pushing out indentions. However, since each entrance/exit inside the PharmGen building is a potential security risk, they are nearly impenetrable.
    “Up or down?” she asks, then shakes her head. “Stupid question.” She starts down the stairs, but I grab her arm. “Would you stop grabbing me?”
    “Up, my love. Not down.”
    She blinks up at me. “How can we escape on the roof?”
    “Trust me.” Letting go of her arm, I hold out my hand. “I’ll keep you safe.”
    Once more she takes my hand and we dart up the flight of stairs that leads to the roof. The air is blistering cold and a heavy wind is coming in from the north. It won’t be the most rash decision I’ve ever made, but it comes pretty damn close. Unfortunately, I have no choice.
    “Please tell me you know how to fly a helicopter,” she says, eying PharmGen’s sleek, silver model.
    “I don’t, actually, and my cousin who does wouldn’t get here in time to help us.” I pull her to the west side of the roof, where I’ve hidden a bag for such emergencies as this in an underused air vent. “So plan B it is.”
    An