She had to act now, while they were busy. Candace took a quick breath, then pushed forward. She came around the wall and crashed into the first upright body she saw. She felt bone break under the force of her blow. The guy went flying as he cried out, crashed into a wall, and fell still.

His buddies spun with shouts of surprise. She whirled and drove her knee into the nearest guy’s gut. He made a huffing sound like a wounded dog and dropped to his knees, as she twisted into a kick. Her boot hit the side of his head, and he hit the ground.

The last guy standing backpedaled, gun lifted. “Y-you!”

“Me.” Candace eyed the weapon, her body tense, her muscles singing, her nerves jumping. This was it.

The guy backed away. His hand shook hard enough for Candace to notice in the darkness. He aimed the gun at Mr. White, then at her, back and forth.

“You don’t wanna do this,” she cautioned.

Above them the ceiling groaned. Something smashed into it from above.

Sweat rolled down the back of Candace’s neck. It soaked into the fabric stretched across her face. Damn, it’s hot in here.

“Your boys are down, the building could collapse, backup is on the way.”

“What’s happening?” Ari asked.

Candace ignored her. “If you want out, you better go now.”

The thief gripped the gun with both hands. Movement shifted in Candace’s peripheral vision. Mr. White groaned. The thug aimed at him.

“No!” Candace dove.

POW.

The ceiling gave with a sharp snap and a howling crackle. Pain danced up Candace’s arm, white hot. Flame rained down on her. Bits of stone and twisted metal battered her body. She shifted to shield Mr. White while Ari screamed.

“Candace! CANDACE!”

Heat and light washed over everything.

Then it all went black.

Beep . . . beep . . . beep . . . beep . . .

Candace stared at the monitor on the wall across from where she sat in what had to be one of the most uncomfortable chairs ever conceived. She stretched carefully, minding her injured shoulder—she could scratch “bullet wound” off her Official Hero list—now that she had a little room, with Ari having made a run to the vending machine.

Mr. White lay against the bed, hooked to machines that kept an eye on his vitals and pumped him full of medications and fluids. The explosion had been three days ago, and the doctors said if he didn’t wake up soon, he may not wake up at all. That didn’t sound right, but Candace wasn’t in the mood to argue with “professionals.” Ari did enough of that for the both of them.

Poor Ari. She’d barely slept, ate only when Candace was around to make her—like now—and probably wouldn’t have showered if Candace’s folks hadn’t been nice enough to get her a room at the hotel across the street.