Riptide

bullets
    into Mikhail when he came out of the house. She said, "I'm
    okay. Just give me a second, just a moment." She stared at her father.
    "Mother left me. There's no way you're going to leave me
    now. I'll help you, Adam." Together, one of them on each side of
    him, they managed to get the door open and drag Thomas into the
    hallway. The flames were whooshing up high behind them, thick,
    incredibly hot, smoke gushing out of the room. No time, Adam
    thought, just no bloody time to put it out.
    All of them were coughing now from the smoke. "Let's move,"
    Adam said. He pulled the bedroom door closed after him, but
    it was too late. The fire was already eating away at the hallway carpeting.
    "If he isn't dead yet," Adam said, "they'll get him the instant he
    gets out of the house."
    Becca was panting with effort and coughing at the same time. "I
    had my gun strapped to my leg, but it didn't matter," she said,
    coughing. "Are you all right, Daddy? Don't you dare talk about dying
    again. Do you hear me?"
    hear you, Becca," Thomas said, and his chest was on fire, just as the fire raged around them, it raged inside him. He knew he

couldn't last much longer. He didn't want to leave her, not yet,
    please God, not yet.
    "Just a little farther."
    They heard a whoosh of flames behind them. The smoke was
    dense and black now. "We've got to hurry," Adam said. He didn't
    ask, just picked up Thomas and eased him over his shoulder.
    "Becca, get downstairs. I'm right behind you."
    A shot rang out in the thick smoke. Adam felt the punch in his
    arm, sharp, hard. He didn't loosen his hold. "Jesus, Becca, get down,
    crawl. I don't want him to shoot you."
    But Becca had her Coonan in her hand. She stepped behind
    Adam and fired back through the smoke in the direction of the
    shot. There were three more shots. Then silence.
    "He must be back near the bedroom, Adam." And she fired off
    another shot. "That'll keep him away. Get my father out of here.
    Oh God, the walls are on fire. It's bad, Adam. Hurry! Save my
    father!"
    Adam felt his arm pulsing with raw pain, weakening as he carried
    Thomas down the front stairs. He felt an instant of dizziness,
    then shook his head, coughed, and kept moving. He felt a strange
    pulling in his back, weird, but nothing really. Thomas was now unconscious.
    He prayed he wasn't dead. He heard another shot, then
    another, but nothing all that close.
    "I'm right behind you, Adam. Go, quickly!"
    He didn't realize Becca wasn't with him until he was out the
    front door and two agents had lifted Thomas from his shoulder.
    "Jesus, a chest wound. Get the the paramedics over here!"
    "The fire department is on the way," Gaylan Woodhouse said,
    running up, his gun still at the ready. "My God, you're shot, too,
    Adam. Hey, Hawley, get over here. We need some help." Adam

stood there holding his arm, his teeth gritted. And now, of all
    things, that pulling in his back, it was bringing him down.
    "Where the hell is Krimakov?" Savich shouted.
    "Becca," Adam said, looking around wildly. "Becca?"
    "Jesus," Hatch said, running to Adam. "He got you in the back,
    boss. Did you know you got shot in the back? Oh God, hurry, let's
    get him down."
    "Becca," Adam said, frantic now, and he knew he was barely
    hanging on. "Where's Becca?" He saw the flames billowing out of
    the upstairs windows. The beautiful ivy that nearly covered that
    side of the house was on fire.
    "Thomas shot Krimakov," Adam said to Gaylan Woodhouse and
    Hawley, who were bending over him. "He's got to still be inside.
    Maybe he's unconscious or dead. Jesus, where's Becca? Please,
    you've got to find her."
    The walkie-talkie boomed out, "No one has tried to come out
    of any windows or the back of the house."
    "Get Krimakov," Gaylan shouted. "Dammit. GET HIM!"
    Becca, oh God, where was Becca? He wanted to go back into
    that house to find her. He had to, had to, but he just couldn't move.
    The fire wasn't only in the house now, it was inside him and it was
    eating its way out. The pain in his back held him utterly locked in
    place. He couldn't move.
    "Oh my God," an agent shouted. "Up there!"
    "It's Becca," Gaylan Woodhouse whispered. "Oh, no."
    Adam did move, suddenly, with a spurt of strength he didn't
    know he had. He roared to his feet. He followed everyone's eyes to
    the roof of the house and felt his heart drop to his feet. No, please
    Jesus, no. But it was Becca, on the roof of the burning house.
    "Becca!"

There were at least a dozen people standing in