In Death 20 - Survivor in Death

listen to me. You hide in here, you hide good. You don’t make a sound, not a fucking sound. You don’t come out until I say so.”
    “I called Roarke. I called him on the ‘link.”
    Oh Christ, what was he walking into? “Fine. Don’t come out until one of us says so. They don’t know you’re here. They won’t find you. I’ve got to go up.”
    “You can’t. They’ll kill you.”
    “They won’t. I’ve got to go up, because my friend’s hurt.” Or dead. “Because it’s my job. You do what I tell you, and you do it now.”
    She half-carried Nixie across the room, shoved her under the sofa. “Stay there. Stay quiet, or I’m going to beat the crap out of you.”
    Eve eased open the door to the stairs, breathing again when she found the housekeeper had kept the hinges well-oiled. Take it to the second floor, she thought. Away from the kid. Take it to them.
    Roarke would get backup, she could trust him for that. Just as she could trust he was already on his way--fighting back worry for her. And he might not fight it off well enough.
    She slipped up the steps like a shadow, and listened at the door.
    Not a sound, not a breath. Night-vision, certainly. They’d spread out now, looking for her. Cover the exits, sweep room by room. She’d lied to Nixie. They’d find her. They’d find her because they were looking for a cop, and they’d look everywhere.
    Unless she showed herself.
    They thought she was looking for kids, so they wouldn’t expect she’d have her weapon out--or even so, that she’d be primed.
    Time she gave them a surprise.
    She rolled her shoulders and, laying down a stream right and left, went through the door.
    There was answering fire from her left, but it was high and she was already down and rolling. She was blasting in the direction of the returning stream.
    She saw the shadow, heard the thud of it when the blast kicked it back against the wall.
    She leaped forward. One of the males--she couldn’t tell which. Good and stunned. She ripped off his night goggles, grabbed both his blaster and his combat knife. And was running for cover when footsteps pounded up the stairs.
    She fixed on the goggles, and it was light, that faint green tinge that made everything look surreal. She slipped the knife into her belt, gripped both blasters, and came out firing.
    She barely made the movement behind her, was able to pivot, but not quickly enough to avoid the knife. It sliced through the leather of her jacket, missed the vest, and ripped into her shoulder.
    Using momentum and pain, she swung, back-fisted, and heard the satisfying crunch of cartilage.
    She blasted toward the main steps again--keep him off me!--as her assailant leaped at her again.
    The kick landed in Eve’s sternum, stole her breath, and had the blasters squirting out of her fingers like soap.
    She could see Isenberry, blood streaming out of her nose, grinning. Her blaster was holstered, her knife in combat grip.
    Likes to party, she thought. Likes to play.
    “Unfriendlies approaching!” Isenberry’s cohort shouted from downstairs. “Abort!”
    “Like hell. I’ve got her.” The grin widened. “I’ve been looking forward to this. Get up, bitch.”
    Drawing the knife out of her belt, Eve pushed through the pain and rose. “Lieutenant Bitch. I broke your fucking nose, Jilly.”
    “Going to pay for that now.”
    She came in with a swipe, spun, and missed Eve’s face with a vicious back-kick by a breath. The knife slashed down toward Eve’s chest, ripped cloth, and skidded over shield.
    “Body armor?” Isenberry spun back, planted her feet. “Knew you were a pussy.”
    Eve feinted, jabbed, then rammed her fist into Isenberry’s grin. “Sticks and stones.”
    In fury, Isenberry reached for her blaster. Eve rose on her toes to leap. And the lights flashed on, blinding them both.
    Roarke came in the front like lightning, rolled to his left an instant before the blast hit--two instants before Summerset engaged the lights.
    He saw the man ripping off goggles, pivoting behind a doorway.
    He could hear the sound of combat up the stairs. She was alive, and she was fighting. The cold fear that had squeezed his heart loosened. He sent out another blast, rolled in the opposite direction.
    “See to Eve!” he ordered Summerset and bolted through a doorway to intercept his quarry.
    The lights were bright now, and he listened for any sound. There might have been sirens, far off yet. It was best to wish for them, he knew. But