Klaus’s big hand swung out, and he slapped her so hard she flew backward across the bed. She tried to roll away, but he grabbed her ankle and hauled her toward him, yanked her to her feet, and slapped her again, then dragged her out of the bedroom and down the hall.

Dark and menacing, Cisco Vasquez stood next to the splintered front door, which hung on its hinges at an odd angle. His one good eye focused on the activity in the hall.

“We need to go, ese.”

Klaus nodded and hauled her across the room. Where were the police? She trusted that Skye would have called them, but police departments were shorthanded. Lately, everyone was shorthanded.

Callie stumbled as Klaus yanked her through the broken front door and down the main corridor toward the elevator, his grip so tight she hurt from elbow to shoulder. Her face burned where he’d slapped her. Her lip felt puffy and swollen.

As the elevator doors parted, the emergency exit door leading to the stairwell flew open, and a big, dark-haired man stepped out. He was wearing a tactical vest and leather boots. A black semiautomatic pistol gripped in both hands pointed directly at Klaus.

“Let her go! Do it now!”

Holy hell—her half-brother, Conner Delaney! She barely knew him. She started shaking.

Vasquez jerked his pistol. He stepped out from behind Klaus and fired. At the same time, Conn ducked, moved, and returned fire. Vasquez went down.

Klaus shoved her forward hard enough to send her sprawling, jerked his weapon, and ran for the elevator, but Conn was already firing. Klaus pulled off a wild shot as he darted inside and the steel doors slid closed.

Ears still ringing, Callie struggled to sit up and saw Conner striding toward her. “You okay?” he asked, crouching beside her.

Callie swallowed, managed to nod. Conn gently took her arms and helped her to her feet. “You sure?”

“I-I’m okay.”

Conn looked at the marks on her face, and his features hardened. He walked over to Vasquez, unmoving in a spreading pool of blood, and kicked his pistol away. Conn knelt and pressed two fingers to the side of Vasquez’s neck. Callie felt a sinking feeling as he rose and walked back to her.

“Is he . . . is Cisco dead?”

Conn nodded. “He made a bad choice, and he died for it.” He shoved his pistol back into the holster at his waist.

“What . . . what are you doing here?”

“Skye called,” he said simply. Sliding an arm around her shoulders, he guided her back down the hall, through the broken front door of the apartment. “Skye couldn’t get here in time to help. My office is only two blocks away.” He glanced toward the door. “With any luck, the cops’ll have a nice little welcome party waiting for your boyfriend in the lobby.”

Callie stiffened. “Klaus isn’t my boyfriend. He’s a pig.”