The entire world exploded. Noni gasped. She was thrown back against the fence, her foot brushing the dead guy. Fire lit the night, and the roof flew off the house she’d just been in. A yell of raw pain screeched toward them.
Denver stuck his gun inside his jacket. He took her gun and tucked it into his jeans before grabbing her by the waist. “Up and over,” he said urgently.
Her hands scrambled on the top of the next icy fence, and she tried to balance herself, but she tumbled over and landed on her back in the snow again. Cold permeated her freezing legs, and her hands hurt as she shoved to her feet. Her entire body ached. It took a minute to balance herself in the snow that reached above her knees. Denver landed gracefully at her side, sinking into the snow.
Her shock made the night surreal.
Sirens trilled in the distance. Fire crackled into the sky, even as a light snow began to fall. She looked around a back alley. Rough fences divided small lots and homes across from her. Two had cheerful Christmas lights twinkling. She shook her head.
He leaned down to her ear. “Keep to the fence line and right behind me. I’ll clear a path.” Without waiting for a nod, he moved in front of her and started running, dragging his feet.
Shouts came from behind them. There were still men with guns. Panic took her and she sped up, trying to keep up with him. He moved silently, gracefully through the snow, his gun in his hands again. Even though it was one of those that could shoot a lot of bullets like the guys chasing them had, he’d only shot once or twice each time.
How many men had he just killed?
She gulped. He’d done it to protect her. She had yet to fire. Her hands closed into freezing cold fists, and she ducked her head against the chilling wind and followed him. They reached the end of the fence line and a quiet street. Denver hustled over to an old muscle car parked near a cottage with snowmen littering the front lawn and forced open the door.
“Get in,” he said, sliding into the driver’s seat and leaning across to unlock her door.
She opened it and dropped into the seat. Pain flared along her back. Wincing, she leaned forward and shuffled out of her pack, setting it on the floor before shutting her door.
Denver drew a pocketknife from his back pocket, ripped a bunch of wires out from beneath the steering wheel, cut the plastic insulation off some of them, twisted two together, and rubbed two others together. The engine flared to life. He shut his door and pulled out into the street. “Belt.”
She scrambled to put on her seat belt, noticing he didn’t do the same. “Yours?” she gasped.
“May need to jump out and shoot.” He checked the rearview mirror.
She turned and looked to see emergency vehicles, three cop cars, and a fire truck, whiz by on the crossing road, their blue and red lights cutting through the strengthening snowstorm. Their ominous glow contrasted oddly with the happy Christmas lights. “You had bombs in the house.”
He took a sharp left turn, and the car slid on the ice. Correcting, he got them back to the middle of the road. “Explosives. I’ll miss that truck.”
The truck? He was worried about the truck? Tears of pure terror clogged her throat. “Are you sure that was Richie’s gang?”
“Yes. Or allies of them.” He took another sharp turn, not decreasing his speed any. “How did they find us?” he muttered, his hands relaxed on the steering wheel. “Somebody must’ve followed me from the hospital, but I didn’t see a thing.” He hit the steering wheel this time. “Why didn’t I see them?”
“I’m sorry.” She gulped, the tears filling her eyes. “This is because of me. Because I put up our picture.”
He didn’t turn her way. “No, baby. This was retaliation because I shot three of them in Greenville and then tortured the same guys in the hospital. But how did they find us?”
But he wouldn’t be involved if she hadn’t plastered his picture all over the net. She shook her head as he turned another way, her stomach churning. Her body felt like it was on fire with pain. Warmth started to creep into her freezing feet, and icy pinpricks ran along her ankles. She bit back a whimper at the agony of it.
He drove into the main area of town, which was lit with bright Christmas lights on every storefront. Their cheerful colors nauseated her. Less than a mile away, bodies had piled up. She forced down bile.
“Grab the phone out of the front of my pack, would you?” he asked, slowing down.
She reached for his pack in the backseat and pulled out a nondescript black phone to hand to him.
He shook his head. “Find the group ‘Pizza Restaurants,’ and send a text that says ‘Large pepperoni, home address.’”
Her fingers fought her, shaking and tense, but she followed his instructions. “What does that mean?”
He stopped at a stoplight and visibly scanned the entire area around them. “It tells my meddling brothers to stay exactly where they are. That I’m safe but can’t talk yet.”
Pepperoni meant safety? She slid the phone back into the pack, her voice trembling. “What pizza means ‘Get here now’?”
“Pineapple,” he said, his shoulders relaxing as the light turned green.
Of course. What else would it be? She let her head fall back against the seat and shut her eyes. Dizziness slammed into her, so she reopened her eyes and took several deep breaths.
