Even as she ducked from view, the stairs groaned again. Nigel grabbed Stacey, pushed her to the front of the group. "Take her," he said, thrusting Junie into her arms.

"Katya," Junie wailed, reaching for her.

Katya struggled to maintain her footing, clutching the door frame for support. She cried out a flurry of Russian.

His grasp wasn't that great under duress. He caught go and sweetheart and roared, "Move it."

They surged up the stairs, in pairs and singles, clinging to the railing as the supports creaked and swayed. Junie clung to Stacey's hands, sobbing in fear, Jake right behind them to lend a hand as he could.

Nigel grabbed Katya as she flailed, her feet thrown out from under her by a particularly violent surge. "What is happening?" she gasped.

He didn't dare take the time to answer. His fingers tight at her elbow, he half-threw her up the stairwell as Waters followed, swearing.

Two flights of stairs suddenly seemed like an eternity. The whole structure heaved, screaming, cracking. Cement steps fell apart, practically beneath them. Finally, Stacey pushed through the rooftop door, pulled Junie out of the way. Jake ran toward the chopper with the chief at his side. She held her head, blood seeping through her fingers.

Nigel let Katya dash through the door, turning to help Waters. He thrust out a hand. "Move it, Andy!"

The stairwell creaked and echoed, dragged a screaming crescendo across his ears. Caught halfway down the staircase, the grizzled detective met Nigel's wild eyes through gray, dust-smeared resignation.

The moment dragged to a standstill.

For one, eternally long second, Nigel held out his hand.

Waters reached for it, his face red. His teeth bared as he strained to clear the steps.

Not fast enough.

With the support beams broken, the final hinges at the top of the stairwell wrenched free. Nigel yelled; Waters dropped his hand as grit and metal rained around them. He shook his head, gripping the swaying railing, and his lips moved.

A prayer. A curse. h.e.l.l, Nigel didn't know.

Whatever it was, it was still on his lips as the stairs collapsed beneath him. Anger slammed through him as Waters's gray head vanished in a cloud of crumbled cement and dust.

It all crunched five stories below. Brick and bone and one of the finest badges Nigel had ever known.

He dropped to his knees as if he'd be able to pluck the detective from the ruins, tears aching behind his gritty, burning eyes.

"Ferris, let's go!" The chief yelled. "That's an order, detective."

He staggered to his feet. Flailed as the crumbling ledge behind him cracked a warning. With monumental effort, he sprinted onto the roof, mentally saying good-bye to the man who'd taught him what it meant to be a d.a.m.n fine detective in an unforgiving department.

He met Katya's gaze as he ducked low, approaching the small group beneath the chopper's rotating wings. She touched his arm. "Did he-?"

He shook his head. "How many seats?" he asked roughly, pitching his voice over the whup, whup, whup of the whirling rotors.

"With the pilot?" The chief nodded shakily to the man bent over the console, earphones firmly over his head. "Four."

Clumps of gray floated on the air, stirred into a miniature blizzard. Jake's cheek was smeared with black and gray, and the roof was filling with it.

They were running out of time.

And s.p.a.ce.

Nigel met Jake's tense gaze and nodded. He'd be the bad guy. With his heart in his throat and the building shuddering beneath them, he ordered, "Katya, Junie, get in the chopper. She can sit on your lap."

"But I-"

He spoke over her, grimly closing his ears-his traitorous heart-to her arguments. "Stacey, you get the second seat. Chief, take the last one, get medical help as fast as you can."

Jake handed Stacey into the helicopter, his features rigid. Her eyes filled with tears. "But what about you?" she demanded. "There's one more seat!"

Nigel said nothing, avoiding Katya's stare.

Jake shook his head. "The bird won't take all the weight. The last seat's for my girls," he said. "Go get them for me. Tell my wife-" His voice cracked. "Tell her I love her."

Katya handed Junie up beside him. "Get in the helicopter, Officer Leigh."

Nigel stiffened. "Katya, don't-"

The building swayed dangerously. The helicopter skidded, metal skids screaming against the cement roof. The pilot swore. "We gotta go!" he roared. The ash floated down like a cotton blizzard, gummy as it gathered the moisture from Seattle's sky.

"You have a baby to take care of," Katya yelled. Her finger slammed into Jake's chest. "Go take care of them."

The chief stepped back, her face pale beneath the blood, but set. "I'll be less weight," she said flatly. "Jake and his family is a full load."

"G.o.dd.a.m.n it!" Nigel grabbed Katya's shoulder. "Get in the f.u.c.king cabin," he snarled. "I'm a police officer. I have to stay. You don't!"

"Ten seconds!" the pilot yelled.

"Get in the cabin, Jake," McClintock ordered. She grabbed a pipe for support, wiping a mask of ash from her eyes. "That's an order!"

Stacey clung to Junie, who struggled wildly.

"Katya," the girl sobbed. "Katya!"

"Ya vas lyublyu," Katya called. Tears slid down her cheeks, leaving blackened streaks behind. "Go, get out. Take care of her!"

"Katya!"

Jake look backed at Nigel. His mouth opened.

Nigel caught Katya as she stumbled, flattened a hand over her head to keep her from standing too close to the whirling rotors, and held her protectively. "You idiot," he roared.

"We're leaving!" the pilot said, flipping switches. The engine revved, swirling ash and grit in a thick cloud.

Junie sobbed wildly, and with a last, desperate shake of his head, Jake flung himself into the cabin. Stacey caught his sleeve with one hand as the skids lifted off the swaying roof.

Nigel watched Jake struggle to his knees as the helicopter rose. The ash-smeared officer reached for Junie, gathering her to his chest.

A d.a.m.n good father.

Nigel turned away. "We need to get off this roof," he said, forcing himself into the now. Katya changed everything. "Before the d.a.m.ned thing comes down."

Her face pale beneath a fine dusting of ash, Katya pointed to the side. "The fire escape is-"

The rhythmic noise of the helicopter rotors fractured.

McClintock shouted a warning, her grip white on the bent pipe, but it was too late. Nigel whirled, saw the helicopter tilt awkwardly in the air. He could just barely make out the shape of the pilot, reaching up to flip switches. Pull levers. Ash coated the cabin's windows.

Katya clung to his forearms, her eyes huge. Fearful. "What's happening?"

The engine above them sputtered. Nigel stared in shocked stillness as the chopper swung wide. Its engines coughed, revved once. Choked.

Died.

"It's the ash," he realized with dawning horror. The helicopter dropped as if in slow motion, swinging like a pendulum, its tail forcing the machine into a staggered spin.

Katya screamed, wrenching out of his arms. She sprinted, half-lurching, half-throwing herself to the edge of the roof as the helicopter dropped below the roof's edge. "Turn it on!" she sobbed. "Go, go, oh, G.o.d-Junie!"

"Katya!" He pitched after her. There was nowhere for that machine to go but down. Straight down, to an already rickety foundation.

There was a terrible crunch; the shriek of metal twisting, compacting, tearing into brick and mortar. Katya grabbed the lip of the roof, and Nigel swore as a dull boom tore through the oddly m.u.f.fled air.

He reached her just as Katya screamed, tears streaming down her cheeks, hands reaching for dead air. He s.n.a.t.c.hed her back from the edge. Cursed again, over and over as a bloom of fire and smoke blossomed from the street below. The station shuddered; different from the earthquake.

A hollow rumble resonated from beneath them, and fire licked over the edge, searing the air. Thick, black, oily smoke roiled into the sky, and Katya screamed and screamed, her grit-smeared features painted wicked orange as Nigel pinned her to the roof.

With an eerie sense of deja vu, he clenched his jaw as remnants of steel rained around them. Something hard and sharp slammed into his back, rebounded off his thigh. He grunted.

Katya slammed a fist against the roof.

The whole thing shifted.

Chapter Seven.

It wasn't over. Nigel raised his head, blinking away the stinging remains of the smoke-thickened air. Katya sobbed beneath him, and the chief clung to her pipe with obvious strain.

But her gaze wasn't on them. Or the edge where the helicopter had just impacted. She stared at her feet. Her lips moved.

The building rumbled again, too sharp to be an earthquake. Too hard.

Too . . . steep.

"It's coming down!"

Nigel leapt to his feet, grabbed Katya and pulled her upright. "We need to get off this roof," he roared. "Chief!"

"Stairs?" she asked.

He shook his head, cursed and reeled as the building banked sharply to the left. His stomach pitched. Katya choked off a shriek as he wrenched her towards the nearest pipe sticking out from a brick foundation. She clung to it.

He tripped over his own feet as the building swayed again. Like a domino teetering on the edge. Back and forth.

Gritting his teeth, he reached for the pipe. Swore, and then swore again as warm fingers grabbed his.

Katya's gaze was too bright in her filthy face. Her mouth set into a grim, dirty line.

"The roof," McClintock called. Years of running a station had groomed her voice to carry. She flung a hand toward the neighboring building. "Catch it on the backswing!"

Nigel followed the line of her finger. His eyes widened, and then narrowed. "There's no way we can jump-"

"Yes, there is!" she cut in deftly. She inched around her pipe, clung to it with both hands behind her. Her eyes pinned on him. "Do it, or die here."

Nigel looked down at Katya, framed in his arms. Her jaw shifted, strong little chin mulish. "I can do it," she said tightly. "What do I do?"

Nigel's chest swelled. She was so G.o.dd.a.m.ned brave. "The building's swaying hard enough to topple any second," he explained. "In a moment, it's going to swing back around and probably crash into the one beside us."

She nodded, her face pale.

"When that happens, we jump like h.e.l.l for the next roof and use the momentum to carry us. You got it?"

"Okay."

The roof tilted again, pitching him against Katya. He clung to the pipe as the world tilted on an axis. "Chief?"

"Ready!"

He grabbed Katya's hand, clinging to the cold pipe with the other. She stared at the neighboring building as it lurched closer. "Oh, G.o.d," she whispered. "Oh, G.o.d, oh, G.o.d-"

He locked his jaw. Below them, the sound of the foundation walls splintering cracked like rapid-fire gunshots. The building slid sideways, tilted and wrenched lopsided as one cornerstone gave out. The roof slanted dangerously. Gravity swept his feet out from under him, wrenched Katya's grip from the pipe.

She screamed, the sound cut off as his grip tightened around hers. His arms snapped tight, wrenched all the way to his shoulder as he grunted a curse, a prayer, and held on with all his might.

They weren't going to make it.

"Go!" he heard over the chaos.

Nigel eyed the angle of the roof, gauged the building slamming towards them too fast. With his heart in his throat, he braced his feet, jerked Katya to the side, and let go.

She screamed. Unable to catch her footing, she staggered; he caught her around the waist, hauled her half under his arm and tried to run the steepening incline.