James led them to a corner of the interior, cut off from the rest of the space by a half-built wall and hanging curtains, filled with boxes and construction tools. He helped Ramirez lower himself to the floor, and finally had a good look at the wound.

  "We need to stop the bleeding." James stripped off his scarf and began wrapping it tightly around Ramirez's upper arm. "Sorry if this hurts."

  "Ah—shit!" Ramirez hissed as James pulled the makeshift tourniquet tight. His face was visibly covered in sweat. “It’s fine… Just… get it done with.”

  After James succeeded in stopping the bleeding, he took a quick look outside the window. The gunmen were already searching the area – quietly, carefully, but efficiently. It was only a matter of time before they found them. But if they could keep hidden just long enough…

  "These guys are really stubborn," James whispered, ducking back down. "Going to such lengths just to get rid of random people who saw them. They don't even know who we are."

  Ramirez grimaced, either from pain or at James' observation. "Professionals... don't leave... loose ends."

  "Wait." James' eyes suddenly lit up. "That's it. They don't know who we are. They don't know we're agents. They think we're just some random civilians who were in the wrong pce at the wrong time."

  "So?"

  "So they don't know we're armed." James gnced meaningfully at Ramirez's holster.

  Ramirez followed his gaze, then froze as his eyes caught something on the floor. "James," he whispered urgently, pointing with his good hand. "The blood."

  James looked down and felt his stomach drop. A dark, wet trail of blood led directly to their hiding spot. Outside, they could hear footsteps crunching on broken gss and debris, getting closer.

  "Give me the gun," James said, holding out his hand.

  Ramirez stared at James' outstretched hand for a long moment.

  “You have a broken arm.”

  "And you can barely keep your eyes open," James countered. "I’ll have a better chance."

  Ramirez hesitated, gncing at his bloody, useless arm. The footsteps grew louder, accompanied by hushed voices. Through the gaps in the wall, he could see fshlight beams sweeping across the unfinished floor. With a resigned curse, he pulled the Glock from his holster and reluctantly pced it in James's palm.

  James took it with a determined expression. "I'm going to draw their attention away from here. Lead them on a wild goose chase through the building."

  "This isn't one of your action movies, kid. You can't take on three armed hostiles with a cast.”

  "I don't need to take them on," James replied, already standing up. "I just need to keep them busy until backup arrives.

  Ramirez grabbed James' sleeve with his good hand. "This isn't the pn we discussed."

  "We didn't discuss any pn," James reminded him. "You just said 'no' to the dumpster."

  "Because it was a terrible idea!" Ramirez's voice rose slightly before he caught himself, lowering to a harsh whisper. "Just like this one."

  James carefully freed himself from Ramirez's grip. "You got any better ideas? Because they're following that blood trail straight to us, and neither of us is in great shape for hand-to-hand combat with three assassins."

  Ramirez fell silent. He knew James was right.

  "Just trust me, okay? I've got this."

  “Wait—” Ramirez protested, but James was already gone. Resignated, he leaned his head back against the wall. "For god’s sake. I was supposed to keep you out of trouble...”

  Meanwhile, James slipped into the main hall of the construction, moving slowly beside the walls, sensitive to every little sound. He could successfully distract one man, maybe two if he got lucky. But three? Not likely. These didn’t seem like the type of guys who would just run after him like a pack of dogs.

  As he reached the center of the hall, he noticed a pile of construction materials scattered across the floor - pipes, loose boards, pstic sheets. The beginnings of an idea formed in his mind. He gnced down at the gun in his hand. A Glock only had so many bullets, and with one arm in a cast, his aim wasn't exactly going to be Olympic-level.

  James moved quietly toward the materials, keeping his eyes on the entrances around him. The fshlight beams were getting closer, converging on the spot where he'd left Ramirez. He needed to act fast.

  He grabbed a metal pipe with his good hand and hurled it across the room. It cttered loudly against the far wall, echoing the sound through the empty space.

  "Check that." A gruff, accented called out in the darkness.

  James held his breath, pressing himself against a concrete pilr. The fshlight beams swung toward the noise, and he could hear footsteps approaching, but not all of them. Only one set moved toward the distraction. The others were still heading towards Ramirez.

  James took a deep breath and stepped out from behind the pilr, aiming the Glock at the ceiling.

  Bang!

  The gunshot thundered through the building, debris raining down as the bullet struck a light fixture. The sound reverberated off the walls, making it impossible to tell where it had come from.

  This time, all three fshlights swung in his general direction. James was already moving, ducking behind a half-finished wall just as bullets peppered the spot where he'd been standing.

  The hostiles split up. One east, one west, one in the middle. Good coordination, which wasn’t exactly good for James.

  He moved quickly through the shadows, stepping carefully over debris. His heart pounded in his chest as he made his way toward the stairwell. If he could get them to follow him upstairs, Ramirez might have a chance to escape or at least find a better hiding spot.

  The stairwell door creaked as he pushed it open, and he winced at the sound. Stealth had never been his strong suit – that was Bke's department. If Bke was here, he would probably have some clever pn, unlike James, who was improvising with a broken arm.

  He took the stairs two at a time, trying to make as much noise as possible without completely giving away his position. When he reached the second floor, he fired another shot, this time at a window. Gss shattered, raining down to the ground below.

  The second floor was even less finished than the first; just concrete floors and exposed beams, with pstic sheeting billowing in the breeze from the now-broken window. He ducked behind a stack of drywall as the first gunman burst through the stairwell door.

  James remained still, hardly daring to breathe as the second man joined the first. The third was presumably still on his way or watching the stairs. The beam of light swept over his hiding spot, and James pressed himself ftter against the floor. His cast scraped against the concrete, and he froze.

  Idiot.

  The light fixed directly on his position, and James didn't wait for the bullets to follow, rolling out from behind the drywall and firing two quick shots in the direction of the fshlights. One of the men cursed as a bullet found its mark, and a fshlight cttered to the floor. The other man returned fire, forcing James to scramble for new cover.

  He dove behind a concrete pilr, breathing hard.

  "You got nowhere to run," called the remaining gunman. "Anton, you good?"

  A groan from the floor was his only answer.

  "Fucking amateur," the man spat. "I'm going to enjoy this."

  James peered around the pilr, trying to gauge his options. The man was advancing slowly, staying low and using the construction materials for cover. Smart. The third gunman was nowhere to be seen, which worried James more than the one he could track.

  He closed his eyes and took a breath. Focus. Listen. Scan the area. Look for options.

  The man was approaching from the right, near the second flight of stairs. The hallway was too long, useless for escape. The floor above him was open to below and on it...

  The missing piece.

  James barely had time to look at the third shooter above him before his body reacted automatically, dodging the bullet by staggering to the side and clumsily, but successfully, bumping into the man from the left, knocking him off his feet.

  The impact sent them both tumbling down the stairs in a tangle of limbs and curses. James's cast smmed painfully against the steps, sending shockwaves of agony up his arm. He hit the bottom of the stairs with a thud that knocked the wind from his lungs. The Glock flew from his hand, skittering across the concrete floor. Pain shot through his already broken arm, and for a moment, his vision swam with bck spots. The gunman nded beside him with a grunt, momentarily stunned but already moving to recover.

  James scrambled to his feet, lunging for the gun. His fingers had just closed around the grip when a boot stomped down on his wrist. He looked up to see the third gunman standing over him, pointing a gun at his head.

  “Pytime is over."

  The second man was getting to his feet, cursing. Blood trickled from a gash on his forehead where he'd hit the stairs, but he looked more angry than hurt. "I'm going to put a bullet in each of your kneecaps for that," he snarled.

  James tried to pull his hand free, but the pressure only increased. The gunman standing over him crouched down, pressing the barrel of his weapon against James' temple. "Who are you working for?"

  "Working for?" James let out a strained ugh. "Dude, I'm just a guy who was trying to take a shortcut home after a really bad date. Look at me." He gestured at his cast with his chin. "Do I look like some kind of professional to you?”

  “He’s treating us like a fucking idiots.” The second man staggered forward, wiping blood from his face with the back of his hand. "I don't care what Anton says. This one dies slow."

  James knew his best chance was to keep them talking. Every second he could stall was another second closer to backup arriving.

  "No, really, I don't know what's going on," James continued, faster now. "I don't know who you are, I don't know who that guy was. I'm just trying to get through the night without dying, you know? I've already had a pretty shitty week. My girlfriend dumped me, my arm's broken, and my boss is making me come in on weekends. Can't we just—”

  “The other one. Where is he?”

  "The other one?" James asked. "Oh, you mean Ram? Yeah, he's probably halfway to Mexico by now. Total coward, that guy. Left me behind the second things got hairy.”

  That's when the shot rang out, not from any of the gunmen but somewhere from behind. The man who was holding a gun to his head suddenly sprayed blood and jerked forward, colpsing beside him. Seizing the opportunity, James twisted violently, sweeping his legs in a wide arc that caught the second man at the ankles. The gunman toppled backward with a startled cry and his weapon discharged harmlessly into the ceiling as he fell.

  James scrambled forward, then drove his knee into the man's chest and wrestled the gun from his grasp. He smmed the butt of the weapon against the gunman's temple a few times until the man went still beneath him.

  Breathing hard, James looked up to see Ramirez standing a few meters away, pale, holding the spare pocket pistol in the trembling hand.

  "Coward, huh?" Ramirez managed through gritted teeth.

  James stared at him in disbelief. "I thought you were about to pass out from blood loss."

  "I was," Ramirez admitted, leaning heavily against the doorframe. “Adrenaline is one hell of a drug. As well as the thought of having to expin to Bke how I let you get killed on my watch.”

  James looked at men's bodies sprawled on the floor. "Third one's still up there somewhere. I managed to wing him, but…"

  As if on cue, a shadow moved on the floor above.

  "He's running!" James shouted, struggling to his feet.

  "Let him go," Ramirez said, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor. "Backup's almost here. No point getting ourselves killed chasing him."

  James hurried over, kneeling beside Ramirez. "You shouldn't have followed me," he said, examining the blood-soaked scarf wrapped around the older man's arm. "The pn was for you to stay hidden."

  "That was your pn," Ramirez said with a pained smile. "I never agreed to it. And besides, your pns always end with you nearly dying.”

  Before James could answer, the night erupted with the sounds of screeching tires and shouting voices. Bright spotlights suddenly illuminated the alley below, blinding them temporarily.

  Reinforcements. What a great timing. It seemed to be an unwritten rule that they always arrived after everything had been settled.

  "ALL PERSONNEL, DROP YOUR WEAPONS AND PLACE YOUR HANDS ON YOUR HEAD!" boomed a voice over a loudspeaker. "THIS IS FBI! THE BUILDING IS SURROUNDED!"

  Ramirez let out a disbelieving ugh. "Command called in the feds?" He shook his head. "The director is going to have my ass for this."

  James winced. “Not only director.”