Carlisle’s phone rings a while later. He presses it to his ear and says nothing. Once he hangs up, I recognize the glint in his eyes. “They’ve got the journalist.”
I eye Carlisle over the rim of my glass. “Good. And the security company the mayor hired?”
“Working on it,” Carlisle replies. “Should I tell the men to bring the journalist in the usual way?”
I take a long sip and nod. “Yes, but keep him bound and gagged. I want to greet him personally after I take care of this problem.”
Carlisle reaches for his phone again.
Halfway to the airport, as I’m envisioning all the ways to make Michael and Lance pay, the car begins to skid. With a frown, the driver grips the steering wheel with both hands and swerves out of the way of an incoming car. He lets out a steady stream of curses when we almost collide with another truck, its bright headlights nearly blinding me. I glance out the window at the world racing past on either side of us.
“Someone messed with the brakes.” The driver raises his voice to be heard over the clamor outside. “I’m trying to find somewhere safe to crash.”
“Just fucking do it.” I ignore the pounding in my chest. I glance out the window again and stare at the asphalt below, and then yank on the door handle. When the door doesn’t open, I scowl and try again, but it’s no use. Fear claws through me as I throw my shoulder against the door, but it doesn’t budge.
What the hell?
Katia is trying to pry the other door open with her knife. “Get us the fuck out of here.”
The car skids again, and we’re all thrown forward. The impact rattles my teeth. Then, the car swerves out of control and spins in a circle. A few seconds later, we crash into a tree.Pain blossoms behind my eyes as I grit my teeth and push back against the searing pain. Slowly, I open my eyes to see Katia hovering over me.
She shatters the window and crawls out.
As I climb through behind her, I spot Carlisle with one arm hanging limply by his side and his pant leg drenched in blood. His eyes widen as he looks past me. I wheel around, but my gun is kicked out of my hand before I can shoot.
Katia’s grunts pierce the fog.
I crouch, throw out my leg, and kick my assailant onto his back.
Then, I retrieve the gun hidden in my sock and open fire.
Two bullets lodge themselves in the man’s legs, but they only slow him down. His face is half-hidden behind a mask, and his all-black outfit makes it harder to make out his outline. Something sails past me, and I turn to see Katia throwing another man through the air, his face contorted in fury.
Carlisle is shooting blindly now, and bullets race past in either direction.
One of them hits another man in the arm, and he yells as a streak of lightning illuminates the night sky.
I grip my gun tightly and fire again. This time, the bullet lands in the man’s chest, and he crumples to the ground. He sputters, and his eyes widen and fill with panic as I aim between his eyes and shoot again. His blood soaks the ground beneath my feet as the skies break open, with rain pouring down around me.
When the light leaves the man’s eyes, I step over him and frown.
Then I shove strands of hair from my face and look around.
Another bolt of lightning streaks through the sky, offering me a glimpse of Katia with one arm around the back of a man’s head, and the other holding a knife to his throat. Herknee comes up, and she hits him in the groin. A heartbeat later, she slices through skin and releases the man, his hands moving immediately to the gash on his throat.
I shift closer, and the man’s sputtering fills my ears.
Carlisle joins us a moment later, breathing heavily.
“Where the fuck is our backup?”
Carlisle shifts on his feet and winces. “I don’t know.”
“It’s your damn job to know,” I snap. “Get us the hell out of here, or there will be one more body to join the rest.”
The anger coursing through me means that no one, not even my right-hand man, is safe.
My mind is still reeling as Katia steps out onto the road, her dark eyes scanning the cars that rush past, bright headlights momentarily illuminating the dark. One hand remains clenched at her side, and the other is holding her knife, still dripping with the man’s blood. With a frown, she glances down and wipes the knife on the thigh of her pants.
