“I will not let you go until I know you’re safe.”
“Now he decides to stick around.”
“Let’s not argue about this,” Grant said.
A car pulled up to the valet stand. A man in a suit got out and stopped short when he noticed Faith. He handed his keys to the valet, still staring.
“We have to go. Now!” Grant said.
The man reached into the inner pocket of his jacket. He looked away, nonchalantly, trying his best not to draw attention to himself. The valet got in his car and drove away.
“I’m parked in the garage. We have to move faster.” Grant took Faith’s hand in his.
She stumbled as she jogged to keep up with him but didn’t try to let go. “Why are we rushing?”
“I think he’s found you.”
“What?” She looked around but didn’t notice anyone suspicious.
Grant opened the door to the garage stairs and ran with her to Level B. He unlocked the car. “Get in and stay low!”
She complied, sliding into the passenger seat, her heart racing. She could feel the car wrapping around in the garage, winding its way out.
“I know you won’t like it,” he said, not taking his eyes off the road, “but you’ll have to listen to me. I won’t let anyone hurt you. I’ll need you to tell me everything that you know. We’ll figure out who’s after you and why.” He tore around a corner, checking the reflection in the rearview mirror to see if anyone was tailing them.
“I’m working on a vaccine for the Chorivirus. We’re close. Someone’s trying to steal our work. They killed my friend Courtney. She caught the guy in her apartment. They came to mine. I didn’t see anyone, though. I don’t know why they’re trying to kill me.” Faith fought to contain her tears.
“Sounds like corporate espionage to me,” Grant said. “We’ll talk about it when we’re at the safe house.”
“Safe house? Like in the movies.”
“Just pretend you’re in one.” Grant swerved into a left turn lane and blew a red light.
“That light was red. Am I really safer with you?”
“Given the circumstances, I think we can only benefit from reckless driving.” Grant slammed the brake to avoid rear ending a garbage truck. “Buckle up,” he said, pointing at her undone seatbelt latch. “This isn’t Lark.”
“Haven’t changed much, have you?” Faith said, locking her seatbelt.
“They must think you hold valuable information,” Grant said. “Otherwise, they wouldn’t be targeting you.”
“I think they want my laptop. My research is on it.”
Faith gripped the safety bar as Grant spun around a corner. “Slow down. This isn’t a speedway. It’s midtown traffic.”
“Someone’s following us.” Grant adjusted the rearview mirror.
“Who? How can you tell?” Faith strained to look behind her shoulder. All she saw were the same long lines of cars that always filled New York City streets. Everyone inside looked nondescript, frustrated by traffic.
“He’s been following us since we came out of the hotel. He recognized you.”
“Maybe a colleague?” Faith asked. “I travel a lot.”
“No,” Grant said. “It wasn’t that kind of recognition.”
“Was he wearing glasses?” Faith asked
“Yes,” Grant said. “Dressed in a suit. Blends in. Doesn’t look sketchy. I could tell he had a gun in his jacket. Military look about him. I suspect former sharpshooter turned gun for hire. The question is, by who?” Grant cut in front of another car to swerve into the right lane. “Hold on.”
