Everything was a blur in her brain as Chris made her way to the second floor. The stunt she'd pulled back there with Greenwood's bodyguards had caused additional problems. She abandoned the idea to try and make it to the roof, and took a sharp turn to enter the room meant for maintenance only. Her mind was abuzz, unable to collect déjà vu. She shortened her dress by tucking as much as possible into her belt. She ascended the wall ladder, her "weapon heels" in hand.

She dragged herself into the dark, stuffy-aired space. Exhaling, a cloud of dust came to life to choke her. Voices below—voices filled with determination made her quiet. She straightened to stand on her feet.

"I thought I saw someone come in here."

"Maybe you saw wrong."

Chris held her breath as she listened to the voices below.

"No," said the gruffer voice. "She's somewhere in this vicinity." Heavy steps forward followed. "Maybe she went up using the ladder."

It was time to move. She took careful steps as she walked the roofing joists as if a tightrope. She sensed the body warmth—but it was too late.

"There she is," the man said, his head appearing through the entrance. He lifted his firearm in such liquid motion and fired, missing her by inches. Another bullet exited the barrel and another and another—Chris amazingly dodging each one. She had no idea how, but it was happening. In a small space of time, she aimed her heel at him. It paralyzed his arm—but nothing more. Desperate to keep him from entering, she threw the shoe at him, knocking him on the forehead—but not before a bullet created a hole inches from her foot on the joist.

As she crashed onto the ceiling board, she prayed to be awaking soon from a dream. There was no way the board would hold her weight. Her insides knotted as she fell freely through the air. The hard floor slammed against her back together with another body, shooting pain up her spine and sucking the breath out of her. Her vision blurred, making it hard to comprehend that she'd landed into a commotion.

But even if she did, she wouldn't care the least. All she wanted was an end to it all.

.......................................................................

Chris' tracker was to thank for where Levi stood, singlehandedly trying to fight three of Greenwood's men. He'd made his way past the agents who'd catch them. But he'd passed the agents and stormed in, interrupting them from connecting their devices.

He heard a cracking sound from above him, but it was too late as a weight dropped on his head, knocking him to the ground. To his disadvantage, the weight half-sprawled over him was none other than Christina Hopper herself. He swiped the silky silver material off his face—before a heavy tool crashed against his skull, robbing him of his consciousness.

....................................................................

It was so cold. Why was it so cold? Levi groaned as pain pounded in his head with the rhythm of his pulse. He could sense he was sitting on a chair. He tried to bring his hands to his blindfolded eyes, but to no avail. His hands were tied behind his back. His fingers sensed the warmth emitting from fingers against his. The steady tapping of footsteps got nearer and nearer, making him alert. Semi-disoriented, knowing he was in some cold room he didn't know, he braced himself.

His head whipped to the side, the blindfold torn from his face. A handsome face, in a sinister grin, was before him. Levi's eyes darkened as the azure eyes locked on his. Bile built in his mouth. What he would do to spit in Greenwood's face!

Greenwood's brow rose in surprise, "Ah! I see you recognize me."

"What'd you want?" he bit out gruffly.

Greenwood straightened, and began to pace the dingy room that had only one window. By the looks of it, they were on the third or fourth floor. He nodded to one of the armed men. The heavy built man sneered, gold teeth revealed, as he took his position in front of Levi. The sight of the rifle measured Levi's breathing.

"So," Greenwood shot out, interrupting his roiling thoughts of escape, "Who are you?"

"You kidnap people you don't know?"

Greenwood's laugh, dripping with harshness, echoed across the silent room. The monster brought out a blade and took hold of his wrist. Was he being released? No, that was such a stupid thought. Why would he do that? The body warmth he faintly felt before left completely.

His surprise was soon killed to become sorrow as his co-captive was made to stand before him.

Chris.

Her hairdo was totally ruined, her long blonde hair disheveled as it flowed down her face. Her dress was torn in several places and stained with—was that blood? Her green eyes darted everywhere except to him. Dried blood was a ribbon going down from her hairline. His heart broke.

"I see you recognize her too." Levi's eyes turned murderous, landing on Greenwood. "Well, it seems we have a mutual acquaintance. And that's why you're here."

"Are you the one who did this to her?"

Greenwood chuckled. "Wow. You speak with such authority as though you yourself aren't as helpless as her! It is such a pity you are both under my mercy."

"And why is that?" Anger blurred Levi's wording and tact. What had gone wrong? What had gone so wrong that the woman he loved got this?

"Well, I found it quite coincidental that she is so against my splendid invention and the same day I get the report that the cylinders were disabled."

"You yourself said it was coincidental."

The azure glare landed on him. "Then you showed up, several seconds before I get that news. The next thing that happens, you ask? MI5 borders the outside of the building, most probably to catch me—but. . ." He chuckled, "As you can see, I made it past them all!" He darkened, tossing Chris over to Gold Teeth. Richard took a fistful of Levi's hair, tilting his head back. "I have a good gut feeling you and your girlfriend are to blame for all my mishaps so far," he hissed, breath hot against Levi's face.

Levi dared not wince from the pain searing his scalp or from the blow from a surprising iron fist to his jaw. The metallic taste of blood pooled in his mouth. That he spat on the villain's polished dress shoe. He'd laid his hand on Chris. He'd laid his hand on him—so he deserved nothing less. He clenched his jaws taut as one blow turned into another and another. But there was no way he was going to give a hint of the pain he was enduring.

Then his blood froze—as a Baby Glock was put between his eyes, the tip of the barrel cool against his heated skin. For a split second, he measured the expressions etched in the azure, metallic gaze.

Fear—his archenemy—took his heart captive—throttling it, one thought at a time. He was going to die. Defenseless, there he was. Helpless with his wrists tied in some amazing knots, he was doomed.

A second felt like eternity as rebellious thoughts assailed his head. There was no way they'd gone as far as stopping Greenwood's plan only for him to get away—and have him killed instead. He didn't want this. He didn't want death! And all it took was a pull of a trigger.

"Don't shoot him!" a female American voice said, desperation etched within the quick words. All eyes turned to the woman with unashamed tears beginning to slip down her cheeks. "Shoot me," Chris said. With all her heart, she was willing. Lord, knew how much she cared for Levi. There was nothing else she'd rather do. "Let him go. If admitting I'm the one to blame for all that was foiled will make him get freed, I honestly admit it all, Richard. It was me."

Richard's heavy yet almost ghostly steps and stiff posture and whitening knuckles around his gun revealed the level of his displeasure. He grabbed her hair and twisted the handful in his fist. Chris fought every natural instinct to at least squeal in pain as her head was tilted backwards. She felt as though she was losing balance, hands still tied behind her back.

Breath warm against her ear, he hissed. "Do you think I did not come to that conclusion after you left to use the lady's room?" A dark chuckle rumbled in his chest. Like arrows, the devilish sound pierced her ears. "My dear, you shall die together with your beloved. And I plan to make it as torturous as possible. A bullet to the brain is much too gentle for the two of you."

A sharp rap was heard on the door, echoing across the barren, dingy room. Greenwood knew the signal. He commanded Gold Teeth to untie Chris—while he kept her still with the barrel of the gun against her vertebrae.

Richard laughed airily as if at a humor filled joke. "Oh, it will be heated! This dilapidated four-story building is rigged to be set to fire in three minutes. And," he added as though to calm any concerns, "no lives will be at risk since this area is an old industrial area."

Fear she had never known swelled in her chest. The fading footsteps as all Richard's minions left the room with him were like a death sentence of their own. She could taste the sooty taste of death. She was barely able to keep her fingers steady enough to untie Levi. They had to make it out! She couldn't picture the other option. But how would they make it out? Her heart hammered deafeningly in her ears. Or was it fantasy to actually think they could make it out? Was there any hope of making it out—alive?

Strong arms lifted her off the floor and locked her in an embrace. There it was—the steady heartbeat of the living. For how long though? Fear knocked every corner of her mind—clouding it. How was she even to think to pray? Faith was dying.

Five words rumbling from Levi's chest brought back so much more than just comfort. "We're gonna make it out."

....................................................

The emerald lifted to his eyes, glowing with life. He felt the same way. Panic was not going to win. The window was the first place to attack.

Levi shuffled Chris' hands off his shoulders to her right hand in his. "There's always a way out," he said more to himself.

Chris went over to the window and opened it, a gush of air surprising her for a millisecond. She gazed down—at the long fatal drop to any mortal human's death. She forced her insides to remain under control. This was definitely not the way out.

Her head pivoted at the low grunts that accompanied the thud and crack of a door in the process of being broken down. She rushed to Levi's side. She gasped in partial disappointment at the sight of the narrow elevator-sized room.

Just then, a deafening, resounding explosion met their ears. Gasoline was probably involved in this fire or the fire had met a gas pipe.

"Lord, help us," Chris breathed as she blindly stepped into the room, the foggy stench of smoke travelling up her nostrils. As though Providence had suddenly stretched out a hand, overhead was a metal grate, the blue sky grinning down. "Thank You, Lord!" she exclaimed—before she leaped up to grab the bars and realized she couldn't reach them. A bucket of ice water dunked on her head could not compare to how she felt.

Warmth seeped into her shoulders, strong hands gently squeezing. "Let me try," Levi whispered, a smile evident in his voice. Chris' mouth hung open as his hands closed around the bars having barely leaped at all. The grate, straining to hold his weight, gave way, the blue sky framed like a picture by the wide square opening.

Yes, here was the escape—but it wasn't time to rejoice just then. Smoke had already fogged up the space outside the little room. Panic threateningly swelled in Chris' chest as Levi stepped back out to retrieve the chair he'd been bound to several minutes earlier. He was but a mere blurry figure, the smoke getting thicker. She practically yanked him in as soon as he was at arm's length. The fire had already spread to that floor, her eyes already burning as Levi hopped onto the chair.

She partly had no idea how he'd managed to hoist himself out. Face blackened by soot, he gave her a skew smile from above. Her heart leapt—but how was she making it out?

......................................................

Levi's grown hair tickled his neck as the cool breeze blew. From above, it was quite apparent he stood atop a burning building, glass having shattered by heat a second ago. This was only the first leg of escape.

The second was getting Chris out. He'd done it before, and there was no way he was doing it again. Christopher Rodriguez and he had made it out of a burning building—together. And he'd make sure that happened again. He parted his legs, one on each side of the opening. He squatted down and reached for Chris' outstretched arms. He clenched his teeth, using all his strength to pull her up. Yes, he often lifted weights, but pulling a woman who was healthy, not suffering from anorexia up from a seven foot height was not child's play. He quickly wrapped one of his arms around her waist and it became slightly easier, then he wrapped the other. Unable to think of anything else to remove him from his awkward standing, he threw himself to the side and rolled on the flat concrete roof—Chris in his arms. She lay still, rigid with her eyes shut tightly. Knowing there was no chance she'd appreciate to open them to find his face inches away, he fumbled to his feet. Capturing her shoulders, he helped her rise to her feet. He exhaled, taking in the vast view from above, a helicopter a simple speck in the blue.

Even though they were no longer in a burning building, they were still on a burning building. Levi's mind buzzed, digging for an escape. The helicopter was too far off. Levi squeezed Chris' hand to give some sort of reassurance as he took to look down the edge of the building. The building gave off smoke from its windows like a hideous dragon with smoke emitting from its numerous nostrils. Despite the discomfiting picture, hope sparked in him as he looked at the neighboring building.

There was one option left.

He'd jump for it—and attempt to convince the vacant-eyed woman, who trembled at the sight, to do it with him.

...................................................

The breeze seemed so powerful—powerful enough to nudge her off the edge to her worst-imagined form of dying. Everything blurred, and swayed dangerously. She'd met her greatest fear once more—heights.

"Chris." Somehow she was taken back away from the edge and darling blue eyes were on hers steadily. "I know it's crazy. But it's a jumpable distance."Levi's tone was urgent, but she struggled to grasp what he'd just said. "We've got to leap for it. That building's not on fire."

The words left her mouth without full contemplation. "Go without me."

Her eyes dropped to her feet, Levi's blood-freezing glare landing upon her head. He wasn't gonna take that. He could barely live with himself as it was; there was surely no way his heart would continue beating if he dared leave her. "That's not happening."

Her rich green orbs pled with him. "I can't," she painfully said. At the stubborn furrow of his dark brows, Chris smiled weakly. Levi was capable of doing a long jump. But her? She had always sucked at it. Staying wouldn't be suicide. She'd die either way. But he could make it—she couldn't. Why couldn't he accept that? His eyes gave her the reason why.

Circumstances almost forgotten, she took time for something she would have considered completely ghastly the first time she met this man. She hardly cared that beneath their feet was a burning building. She had not before dared to hold steady eye contact with him for fear of what she felt when she did. But she did then. His handsome, beaten, and soot covered face was visited by her gentle hand. His eyes held intensity she had never seen—protection of another level. Something in her began to melt, like a metal being smelted in great heat. Suddenly, like a revelation, she understood. She understood him, heat creeping like ivy up into her face—as one washed with honor they did not deserve. Her hand drifted down the curve between his toned neck and shoulder and stilled on his upper arm. Other hand reaching for his neck, she brought his head lower—and kissed his forehead.

Levi understood the gesture. It went two ways. The first way warmed him. The second was frosting him. "If you really do, Chris," he whispered, having moved so his lips were against her ear, "at least try."

He pulled away from her. She wasn't Christopher. She was blonde, about a foot below his height, more fiery, and a woman. But there was one thing that made them common with each other—something invisible yet undeniable that manifested in them. He'd never realized how much Christopher—Chris had meant to him. But he knew now—how much this woman meant to him. Christopher had died once they'd made it out the burning tunnel of the building. Evil, forbidden, accursed thoughts filled his vision—his Chris helplessly disappearing down the long drop from the multi-floored building.

No!

Her dark blonde brows knit in confusion.

He'd said it aloud. He shook his head. "At least—try."

"After you."

His jaws clenched and then worked. "Things just go wrong that way."

She raised a skeptic's brow, trying at humor when it wasn't needed. "How else would I learn how I should 'leap for it?'"

What the blazes was she saying? That wasn't going to happen!

Her eyes steeled as she grabbed hold of the back of his neck and forcefully brought it down. She tucked her little finger under his brow piercing—and tugged lightly at it. "I'd do a lot more," she hissed threateningly.

He would take the pain—if it meant she actually would do as he said. She would not.

................................................................

Apprehension swelled in his chest and spread to his throat. He'd done it—even though his landing lacked grace. He looked back at Chris preparing to leap, still on the roof of the burning building and did what he'd never dreamt. "God," he called, "if You are there and care at all, help her."

He stood near the edge. Everything slowed, her legs sailing through the space between the two buildings, smoke illuminating around her. Vivid thoughts of her falling to her death attacked his mind. He trembled from within, unable to notice the nearing chopper.

His nightmare came to fruition.

She was gone, without even a squeal—knuckles whitening as she clung to the roof's edge. Adrenaline surged through his system, making him grab her hands. He pulled her—dragged her onto the concrete roof. His heart thudded in his ears as she lay there, trembling and sobbing. His eyes clouded over with tears as he swept her up into his arms.

A few inches less and she'd be gone. His throat constricted. A few inches less and she'd be dead—just like Chris—in the same time span. Heedlessly, he kissed her temple, the chopper beginning to whip his hair. They made it.

He waved up at the descending helicopter with one arm, acknowledging it. If Chris Hopper didn't want his arm around her shoulders, it was her decision to pull away. He was taking every precaution to make sure she didn't fall away somehow. The way she was trembling was scaring him.

An odd feeling of anxiety surged through him as the flying vehicle tilted awkwardly in the air. Any reaction was too late as a shot was fired. It should have hit him. Why hadn't he felt it?

He laid his hand lightly on Chris' ribcage. A strangely warm liquid met his fingers. His eyes widened as he gazed at his blood-coated hands, and sank with her to his knees. Chris' emerald eyes, steeled with shock and pain rose to his. He'd seen that look too often enough.

No.

His thoughts were roiling, emotions in turmoil. Disbelief, shock, and panic, thundered with his heartbeat. The flying vehicle descended onto the roof's helipad. Levi's eyes darted to it—and froze, narrowing, as a disgusting familiar face appeared through the opening door. His blood surged through his veins, the greatest amount of anger he'd ever felt humming through, jaw muscles tightening.

The malicious grin greeted him once again.