The noise. The pressure wave that pushed the door into him. It has to have been a bomb, Parker thinks. Are the other hostages dead?

Is Miranda?

When his ears clear, he hears the hostages out in the hall screaming and crying. But what’s worse is that he also hears men shouting. Not in fear, but excitement. It’s the killers. Whooping. Like fans of a winning football team.

So whatever happened was something they wanted. Miranda said a SWAT team was coming to kill the bad guys. Parker guesses that the opposite just happened.

Lips is yelling at the hostages. “Settle down and shut up, already!”

“Parker,” Moxie cries out from inside the cupboard. “Parker, where are you?” Her voice is muffled, but not enough.

Parker shoves his phone in his pocket. He scuttles forward on hands and knees, repeating “Shh” as loudly as he dares.

“Parker! Parker!”

“I’m coming!” he whisper-shouts. “Just be quiet.”

Behind him, the door flies open so hard, it bangs against the wall. He looks over his shoulder. It’s Lips. Lips raises his rifle.

Parker goes still inside. This is it. His last second on earth. He doesn’t pray. He doesn’t plead. He just stares at the round empty eye of the gun.

Lips steps forward and puts the end of the rifle against Parker’s temple. The cold circle is just millimeters from his brain. Maybe there won’t even be time to register the pain.

But the next thing that happens isn’t Lips shooting him but candy boxes falling onto the floor as Moxie scrambles out of the cupboard. Concentrating on not even twitching, Parker watches her out of the corner of one eye. Her hair is stuck to one side of her flushed face, and her red coat is rucked up in the back.

So much for protecting her from what’s happening. In another second, she’s going to be covered with his brains and blood.

And that’s if she’s lucky. If she’s not lucky, she’s going to be dead herself.

She lifts her hand and points straight at Lips. “You,” she announces, “are a bad man!” For emphasis, she stamps her foot.

There’s no turning back now, Parker realizes. They’re both going to die. At least Moxie is on her feet, not cowering on her knees the way he is.

“She’s just a little kid,” he babbles. “She doesn’t know what she’s saying.”

“Oh, don’t give me that. She knows exactly what she’s saying.” To Parker’s surprise, Lips grins. “Little girl, you’ve got some mouth on you.”

Moxie, thankfully, doesn’t argue the point. Parker has a feeling it wouldn’t take much for her to tip the balance from cute to annoying to dead.