He was opposed to the notion of waving a gun at innocent bystanders on

principle—and to the idea of running straight at all those guns, for that matter.

“Who, they?” the cook demanded, and took a step forward. “Are you trippin’?”

They’re military. Wanna bet? McClane’s anxious twitch sent ripples through Riley’s back muscles. I admit it, I underestimated them. I’m sorry.

So, so sorry. Now, please, let’s run. Something warm and probably metallic slithered down his spine. It felt as if McClane was coating the skin there with armor. The bitter taste of terror bled through the connection between them. Please, Riley. I don’t want to go back into a lab again. I don’t wanna die.

Another hit shook the door behind them, hard enough to make the freezer vibrate. Angle and the lack of a proper battering ram were on Riley’s and McClane’s side, but it was only a question of time before the soldiers forced their way in. Riley’s survival instincts jumped into overdrive. The way the three men were staring at him told Riley they thought he was nuts, anyway. They’d rabbit the second they saw the gun.

Wasn’t like he’d have to shoot at anybody. Not that he could’ve, seeing as the fucking gun wasn’t even loaded and he wasn’t going to load it, either.

Riley’s fingers closed around the grip of the weapon before he’d consciously decided to do so. The cook saw the movement and was backing away before Riley had even completed it. By the time the gun was out, all three kitchen workers were halfway across the room and headed for the door.

“¡Tiene un arma! ” one of them yelled, and just like that everybody in the diner was suddenly much more interested in Riley and his gun than in the helicopters hovering over the parking lot and the soldiers roping down to the ground.

Riley ducked out of the kitchen behind the fleeing employees, careful to keep the gun in sight, but pointed at the floor.

“Get the fuck outta here,” he yelled, trying to sound scary instead of scared. “Out! Out! Now!”

The advantage of being armed was that nobody thought to argue.

Nobody wanted to stay behind to negotiate with a mad gunman and turn into a hostage. Customers and staff alike were up and running as soon as

they heard Riley’s deep bellow and spotted the blunt, black snout of the H&K poking from his hand. Someone screamed. Stools clattered to the floor. A plate went flying off a table and shattered on the tiles, which woke up the baby and made it squall in protest. The mother snatched it up and clutched it to her chest as she scooted out of the booth as fast as she could.

Daddy was ahead of her, eyes bulging, mouth hanging open. The little girl didn’t quite get it, but she scurried after her mama, anyway, sticky fingers clenched around a handful of the woman’s colorful skirt.