His head smacked into the railing, and he took the pain streaking through his scalp as quietly as he could. With his knees, he gripped the railing of the platform below so that he hung upside down like a gymnast on the uneven bars. He swayed in an effort to drop his body closer to the building and onto the platform below him. He glanced up at his white knuckles, and he knew, in about five-point-six seconds, his fingers were no longer going to be able to keep his 180-pound frame hanging.

Erick muffled a shout and flailed, hanging by one fucking hand now, his legs useless. He inhaled sharply just as his left hand decided to give out. If he could swing his legs, maybe he could land on the platform rather than four floors down on asphalt. He didn’t want to be indebted to a fucking hit man.Įrick looked down at the fire escape platform below him. Was Erick happy about that? No, he was not. He didn’t know much about Tarr, or even his actual name he just knew that Tarr saved his life.

That was the reason for the bug and for this death-defying feat on a fire escape. As soon as I find that reason, I find Tarr.”Įrick wanted to find Tarr too.

He wants us to think he did but he’s sticking around for some reason. Frankie was talking about Tarr, the hit man who had killed his brother. “He left town,” said a deep voice, which Erick recognized as Frankie Haro, brother of a Mark Haro, who was now deceased. Which was why Erick had to leave in a damn hurry and why he was currently hanging from said fire escape by his fingernails. Erick didn’t need to listen, since he’d bugged the place right before the men returned. He couldn’t pull himself up onto the fire escape because just inside the glass door of the apartment were several men who would think nothing of firing a bullet between his eyes. His arms were on fire, and if he didn’t figure out a plan soon, his sweaty fingers were going to give out.

Now was the time to figure out how not to plummet to his death and splatter his brains all over the alley below. To be fair, Erick Lee never had brilliant ideas-he usually left the planning to his best friend, Roarke-but this one was colossally bad.Īs he hung from the fourth floor fire escape in DC’s Washington Highlands neighborhood by the tips of his fingers, feet dangling, he knew now was not really the time to rethink life decisions.

Trust the Focus by Megan Erickson