It's barely visible in the dim lighting, running from under our car to a vehicle parked two spaces over. My blood turns to ice.
"RUN!" I roar, grabbing Maeve and hauling her backward as hard as I can.
We make it maybe ten feet before the world explodes.
The blast picks us up and throws us like we weigh nothing. I twist mid-air, trying to get my body between Maeve and the ground, and we hit hard. The air punches out of my lungs. My ears are ringing, everything muffled and distant. Heat washes over us in a wave, and I can smell burning rubber and gasoline.
Maeve is under me, her face pressed against my chest. I can feel her shaking.
"Are you hurt?" My voice sounds strange and far away. "Maeve, are you hurt?"
She shakes her head against me, and relief floods through me so intensely it's almost painful. I push up onto my knees, my body screaming in protest. We need to move. Car bombs are almost never alone—there will be shooters, men waiting to finish what the explosion started.
As if summoning them with the thought, I hear the screech of tires. A van comes around the corner, side door already open. I see the barrel of a gun.
My years of training take over instantly. I grab Maeve and drag her behind a concrete pillar as bullets start pinging off the ground where we were just lying. She's gasping, her hands fisted in my jacket, and I need her to stay down, stay safe, while I handle this.
"Stay behind me," I growl, pulling the gun from the shoulder holster under my jacket. "Don't move unless I tell you to."
I lean around the pillar and fire three shots in rapid succession. One hits the driver—I can tell by the way the van swerves. Another takes out the shooter in the side door. The third hits the windshield, but I'm not sure if it connected with flesh.
The van screeches to a stop. Doors open. I count four—no, five men pouring out.
Where the fuck is Flynn?
As if hearing my thought, gunfire erupts from the opposite side of the garage. Flynn.Thank Christ.One of the men goes down, then another. That leaves three, and they're spreading out, trying to flank us.
"We need to move." I grab Maeve's hand. "When I say go, you run for that black sedan. Keep your head down. Understand?"
"Sean—"
"Do you understand?" I grip her chin, forcing her to look at me. Her face is pale, her eyes huge, but she nods.
I fire twice more, providing cover, and Flynn does the same. "Go!"
Maeve runs. She's fast, I'll give her that—her heels clicking against concrete as she sprints. I'm right behind her, my body positioned between her and the shooters. I feel a bullet whiz past my head, too close, and return fire without thinking.
We reach the sedan—the other car that security brought here—and I shove Maeve toward the passenger side. "Get in and stay down!"
She yanks the door open and throws herself inside. I move around to the driver's side, firing toward the remaining shooters. Flynn is making his way toward us, using cars as cover, his movements efficient and deadly. Gunfire is erupting from other angles, too—the rest of our security, spread out to make it harder for them to focus their fire.
One of the shooters breaks from cover, running straight at us. I put two bullets in his chest, and he drops like a stone.
Flynn reaches the car and dives into the back seat. "Drive!" he shouts, throwing me the keys.
I gun the engine and slam the car into reverse. Bullets spider-web the windshield as I punch the accelerator. We shoot backward, and I wrench the wheel, spinning us around. More bullets hit the car—I can hear them pinging off metal—and then we're out of the garage and onto the street.
"Everyone alive?" Flynn pants from the back seat.
"Yeah," I grit out, weaving through traffic. My hands are steady on the wheel, but my heart is jackhammering against my ribs. I glance at Maeve. She's curled into herself, her arms wrapped around her middle, staring straight ahead. "Maeve. Look at me."
She turns her head slowly. There's a cut on her cheek, blood trickling down toward her jaw, and rage floods through me so intense I nearly black out from it.
"Are you hurt anywhere else?"
"I—I don't think so." Her voice is small and shaking. "Sean, what?—"
"Not now." I need to get her somewhere safe, and make sure no one is following us. Then I need to figure out who the fuck just tried to kill my wife.
