The guy on the right sent a spray of bullets in their direction?—suppressive fire, a last-ditch effort before he sprinted to the already rising ramp, wheels rolling as the plane started down the runway.
“Why are they leaving us?” Kasra balked. “We must run.”
Ticked, stunned, Range stared at the ground. They were seriously out of luck here. That hadn’t been a rescue effort, as he’d expected from Pike. That’d been an attempt to silence them. Kill them.
Gunfire peppered the night, ALP firing at the fleeing plane.
The engagement snapped Range out of his stupor. “C’mon.” He launched up from the grass, shoving himself back toward the 4Runner he’d stolen.
Kasra didn’t argue or hesitate.
Pitching his phone aside, he threw himself in the SUV. He started it even as her door closed.
Bullets pinged on the hood and roof.
“Down!” Gunning it, he drove backwards until he’d put enough distance between them and the ALP, then ripped it around and headed back to the main road. They hit the two-lane road with violence, the vehicle bucking and hopping. He smoothed it out and nailed the gas.
Headlights struck the rearview mirror.
He cursed.
Kasra held her seatbelt and glance back. “What do we do? They saw us.”
Range tugged out his GPS to find another road out of here. Not a main one. With no taillights and headlamps off, he could ghost them in the darkness, but not on a main road. He also didn’t want to wind up on a dead-end road.
They whipped around slow-moving vehicles and barreled around corners at dangerous speeds, but anything less would be lethal. They roared over a bridge.
“Where are you going? We have to get somewhere—”
Range nailed the brakes, glad he’d broken the taillights, and cranked it hard left. Into the oncoming lane, narrowly avoiding a vehicle, which elicited a scream from Kasra. He aimed them down the embankment. Gunned it. Prayed the plumes of dust weren’t visible in the night. He yanked the wheel left and dived into the underpass. Hit the brakes, the 4Runner skidded on dirt.
With a yelp, Kasra braced against the sudden stop.
Rolling down the window, Range listened to the vehicles rushing across the small bridge above. He also heard her frantic breathing. Waited … and waited …
“We’re clear.”
And screwed. Betrayed.
Ticked, he pounded the steering wheel. Punched the dash. Again. Again and again. Skin crawling, needing to hurt someone, he shoved out of the SUV. Threw a punch at the sky. Kicked the vehicle. Cursed.
Hooked his hands over his head. Blowing out a thick breath, he swiped a hand over his face. Noticed movement to the side. The madam. She stood there, saying nothing. All the better. He’d probably just light into her if she spoke. What in the name of creation were they supposed to do now?
“Why did your friends shoot at us?”
“Wasn’t my team.” Which didn’t make a lick of sense.
“Do you think the police scared them? They made a mistake, thinking we were … bad?”
“Itwasn’tmy team!”
She was reaching for justification. But there wasn’t any. It might not have been Omen, but those had been American operators targeting them.
They’d been burned. Set up.
But Pike told him to come here. Right?
The madam still stood there, silent. Hugging herself.
