Zane stirred beside him.
Relief flooded through Luke. “You hit?”
“Arm. You?”
“Missed me. Can you move?”
“Do I have a choice?”
Both men crawled toward the relative safety of Zane’s car. Two more shots peppered their path, and the distinctive scent of burnt gunpowder infiltrated the morning haze. A third shot left Luke’s leg burning like someone had branded him.
But after the next shot, Zane dropped to his chest and didn’t move. Luke gave up all attempts at staying low. He grabbed Zane under the arms and dragged him behind his car, leaving a trailof blood to mark their progress. Another crack split the air, and the toe of Zane’s running shoe disintegrated before Luke’s eyes.
Luke made sure Zane was completely hidden by the vehicle before he stopped and eased Zane’s body to the ground. “Stay with me, buddy. Hang in there.”
Luke twisted his wrist, tapped his watch until the phone keypad appeared, and dialed 911.
Zane mumbled something Luke didn’t catch. While he waited for the call to go through, he patted Zane’s pockets, looking for the keys. Zane grabbed Luke’s arm and jabbed a finger in the direction of the car before his head dropped back to the ground.
Luke bent lower to get a look at whatever it was Zane had been trying to show him. The 911 dispatcher was saying something, but Luke didn’t respond.
The wires hanging from the axle didn’t belong. Neither did the slab of C-4 they were attached to.
Two more shots rang out. This time they hit Zane’s car.
“We have to move.” Luke wasn’t sure if Zane was still conscious, but he didn’t have time to worry about that. Once more, he grabbed Zane under the arms and dragged, this time away from the car.
His own car was a good hundred feet away, but staying beside a vehicle that was ready to blow wasn’t any safer than risking the trip to the other side.
Around the halfway point, the glorious sounds of sirens filtered through the surrounding trees.
Then the ground shook.
And everything went dark.
2
MONDAY MORNINGSweren’t for cowards.
FBI Special Agent Faith Malone eyed the pile of paperwork on her desk with disgust as she finished off her first Cherry Coke of the morning.
Faith rated her days by the number of Cherry Cokes she had consumed. Normal days? One. Busy days, or days when she was out late the night before? Two.
Days of utter madness called for three.
“Good morning, Faith. Good of you to come to work today.”
Faith imagined, not for the first time, what it would be like to whack Special Agent Janice Estes across the face with her empty Coke bottle. Instead, she contented herself with picturing a small rivulet of blood trickling from Janice’s nose. “Just like every day and twice on Sundays,” Faith said without making eye contact.
“Oh? I thought you were out twice last week.” A saccharine Southern drawl disguised her tone but did nothing to hide the venom in Janice’s words.
Faith continued to focus on her paperwork. “Nope.” Not last week. The week before had been another matter, but no need to bring that up.
Janice wasn’t done, and Faith waited for the next dig. She still didn’t know what Janice’s end game was, but she refused to sink into a verbal sparring match.
“Malone!” The booming voice of Supervisory Senior Resident Agent Dale Jefferson interrupted whatever Janice had been about to say.
“Yes, sir!” Faith paused a second to scan her desk, attempting to memorize the placement of every file and sticky note. Her eyes bounced off the “Faith over Fear” paper holder—a gift from her sister—that had become a painful reminder of how weak her own faith had become. She grabbed her iPad and Apple pencil and walked to her boss’s office.
