I threw myself on top of Freya, who was sprawled on the floor. “Stay down.”
Gunfire erupted from various directions, and I tucked my body around hers as best as I could. Good thing I was a big guy. Even better, I liked to stash guns all around my safe houses.
I grabbed the gun I’d hidden under the small table in the hallway and returned fire.
Freya whimpered and burrowed closer. “Please tell me you hid more guys somewhere.”
I cursed under my breath, wishing I’d let my paranoia run free instead of getting cocky and thinking we’d be safe at the house. We usually had at least two people on each safety detail, but I thought I knew what I was doing. And for the first time in my life, my emotions had influenced my decision. I didn’t want the guys around Freya, so I chose to do it by myself. A mistake that could cost us our lives.
“It’s just me. Because this location is safe. Only Carter and Blake knew we were here.”
When the gunfire stopped for a moment, I got up, taking Freya with me, making sure my body covered hers as much as possible. I ran my hands down her arms, taking her in. “Are you hurt?”
She looked okay, besides a few scrapes, and shook her head. “I’m fine.”
I herded her in the direction of the garage, moving as quickly as we could through the smoke and dust.
Then Freya stopped in her tracks. “Killer.”
I changed course, knowing she wouldn’t leave him behind. “That damn rat is going to get us both killed.”
Once I was holding the cage in one hand and Freya in the other, we finally made our way out of there. I gripped her tighter, and she thankfully didn’t argue, plastering herself to my side instead.
“Stay as close to me as you can,” I ordered.
We reached the door that led out to the garage, and I put the cage down, releasing Freya at the same time but making sure she stayed low and against the wall. “Don’t move.”
I checked the garage, but it was dark and quiet, the roller door still closed. Not having any other option but to go in, I waved to Freya. “Let’s get out of here.”
We rushed to the car, and I buckled the cage in on the back seat as Freya slid into the front. The keys had been stashed in the visor, and I thanked our protocols. If I’d had to look for them in the house, we’d either be dead or caught.
The garage door opened as soon as I hit the button, revealing three people with their guns raised, grinning as I stared at them through the rear windshield. I revved the engine in response. I loved teaching cocky bastards a lesson.
“Keep your head down. This might hurt.”
I released the brake and we shot backward, hitting one of the guys. I didn’t stop, the sound of bullets pinging against the front windshield accompanying our escape. I pushed Freya’s head down and ducked low.
We flew onto the road, and I put the car in Drive, racing away from the house that now had a huge chunk missing. Police and firefighters would get here soon—an explosion this big was hard to miss—and it would be better if we were gone by then.
Freya had slid down to the floorboard, emerging when it was clear nobody was following us. They should have had someone waiting in a car in case we got away. But their arrogance had probably saved us.
Freya’s wide gaze traveled around the interior of the car, and then she tapped against the window where it had cracked.
“Bulletproof glass,” I explained.
She sank back into her seat. “What now?”
“Now we switch cars. Then we go off-grid.”
Freya looked like I’d just told her the place she bought her minuscule jumpers for her rat had closed down. But instead of arguing as I’d expected, she turned to look out the window. Guess she wasn’t used to someone trying to kill her anymore.
She didn’t even have any knives or guns on her. The Freya I used to know never left the house without at least one of the two.
Twenty minutes later, I pulled into the parking lot of a run-down car yard. The peeling paint and half-lit sign stood out in the immaculate neighborhood. Ferguson was a quaint little town, and I hadn’t seen so much as a flower out of place. But lucky for us, this car yard had survived the influx of holiday rentals and second homes.
“We need a place that takes cash,” I explained, wanting to erase the distrust that was clear on Freya’s face.
She raised her brows at me. “And you have cash?”
