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Still, a bad landing was better than no landing at all.
    Her heart slammed up into her desert-dry throat. Crouching, she followed him across another rooftop, her breath sawing in her lungs, her heart manic. Hot air pushed against her sweaty skin, wrapping her in a thick cocoon.
    Suddenly the sharp pinch of a stitch in her side almost doubled her over.
    Not now, for God's sake. Not now. AJ raced beside him, holding her side as the sharp pain intensified. Jesus, hadn't she screwed up enough already? Did she really have to be a crybaby and yell "cramp"? Of all the ridiculous reasons to get shot in the back. If it weren't so pathetically… girlie, she'd laugh at herself.
    Crap. No wonder Kane wanted to send her home. She might as well go back on the pageant circuit if she couldn't be a better agent than this.
    AJ grimaced as she tried to straighten up. If nothing else, she could match him for speed. At six three he was only five inches taller than she was in her boots. Despite the annoying pain of the stitch, her strides almost matched his as they came to the next rooftop jump over an alley.
    This would take them down by at least fifteen feet. Down fifteen, across at least ten. Her spit had dried up an hour ago. Nothing to swallow down her dry throat. She dug the heel of her palm into the now screaming pain of the stitch and gritted her teeth.
    More shots. Closer now.
    "Crazy glue," Kane said grimly into his lip mic.
    "Joined at the hip. Got it." A spear of pain radiated from her side directly to her brain, doubling her over.
    "Together—" He jumped, and landed on the rooftop below, light as thistledown, then spun around to make sure she was following. Which she wasn't because the pain was so sharp she was cross-eyed.
    He swore under his breath. "What the hell are you waiting for, Cooper?"
    She panted through the pain in her side. "Stitch."
    "Jesus," he said in her ear. "You'll have more than a fucking stitch if you don't jump. Do it now, Cooper. Now!"
    Trying to straighten up as she ran, AJ backtracked to get a running start on the jump. No matter how good an agent she wanted to be, if she didn't shake this paralyzing terror of being shot again, she'd end up dead. Worse, she'd end up responsible for the deaths of other operatives. Perhaps even the mighty Kane Wright.
    Forget the stitch. Forget everything. Run like hell. Clear the jump.
    That's all I have to do. Run. Clear the jump.
    I can do it. I can do it…
    Her heart cramped as a bullet tore up the roofing inches from her feet. Raazaq's men closed in. She couldn't control the way she started at the noise and close proximity of the gunfire. Her head went light with fear. Damn. Damn. Damn.
    Determined, grim, she rotated to return fire. It was obvious they could see her location. She had nothing to lose. She got off a few shots, then spun back around and started running flat-out for the gap…
    Her breath sawed painfully as she ran.
    Faster.
    Faster.
    Twenty yards…
    Zigging.
    Zagging.
    Faster.
    Faster.
    She tried frantically to put the image of a bullet tearing through her flesh out of her mind. God.
    Ten yards…
    She struggled with the image. The memory of the feel of the impact. The sharp, hot pain as the bullet sliced through her soft tissue and muscle. The sensation as it went through the back of her shoulder… burning, scorching, agonizingly painful.
    "Nonono!" Concentrate on the now, damn it! AJ blocked the memory and ran with every ounce of energy in her body. Flat-out.
    Three yards and she'd be flying.
    One minute she was in full, flat-out motion. The next… nothing.

CHAPTER THREE
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    An agonized scream ripped AJ out of unconsciousness and into heart-pounding awareness.
    Not her own scream. Thank God.
    What—? Where—?
    Preternaturally alert, eyes closed, she remained dead-still where she lay, senses tuned to the sound of violence nearby. Another scream. Male. Cut off mid-shriek. A thump. Something solid connecting with flesh.
    Her body jerked in sympathy