The pistol dropped into her palm.
Her thumb hit the release.
The magazine rang on the tile.
She racked the slide.
A round spun out and clinked against the warmer.
Two seconds.
Sutter howled and went to his knees.
She slid the empty pistol under the cabinet.
“Josie, behind the warmer. Stay low.”
The girl dove.
Rainey had not waited.
He lunged for the child with both arms.
Lauren grabbed the rolling IV pole.
She swung it low into his knees.
He stumbled.
She whipped it back across his shoulder.
The metal base cracked against bone.
He roared and caught the pole.
She let go.
His own weight carried him forward.
She hooked his ankle and drove his shoulder into the doorframe.
He came back up swinging.
A fist clipped her cheek.
She tasted blood.
Good, she thought. That’s the last one you get.
Gail Whitman, white-faced, tore the fire extinguisher off the wall and tossed it.
