Worth The Risk. Melinda Di Lorenzo

      He lifted his weapon, aimed it, then thought better of it. The man above him could fire at will because no one would be the wiser. Sam’s own weapon was far from silenced and would alert every person on the block.

      Thinking quickly, he holstered his gun and reached to his boot. He pulled out his knife, then drew back his arm and took aim again. With a practiced flick of his wrist, Sam released it.

      The light shattered. Shards of glass flew in every direction, and a curse echoed from above. Sam made his move before the surprise could wear off. He leaped up the stairs. Just as he expected, he found the shooter on the next landing. The man’s gun was on the floor, clearly dropped in the mad attempt to brush off the exploded glass that had already dotted his face with flecks of blood. The second he spotted Sam, he stopped flailing and dove. Not for the weapon, but straight at Sam himself.

      Instinctively, Sam sidestepped the attack. But his balance had already been thrown, and instead of moving smoothly out of the way, he stumbled. He reached for the wall and he caught himself. Barely and briefly. For a breath, he hung at an angle, one foot on a stair, one hand on the wall. Then he tumbled sideways and followed the shooter down the stairs.