Trinity
Adrenaline surges through my body. The blown-out BMW eats up the desert highway with a vengeance as Brody races away from the grisly scene we left behind. We careen past passenger vehicles, an old rusty pick-up truck and a shiny red Prius.
My eyes refuse to close, like I’m afraid I’ll miss something if I blink. The details don’t matter. None of this matters.
That was the second shoot-out I’ve been caught in the crosshairs of. This cannot be my new norm.
Ironically, this may be the first moment of my life I’m actually grateful my family sent me away. If living at home means I would have been privy to all ofthischaos, then maybe I was better off on the other side of the country. Not that I’ll ever get the chance to express my gratitude.
The haunting,huntingTerminator look on Andrei’s face… I shudder at the memory.
The abandon with which he gunned us down will live in my mind forever.
Next to me, Brody drives like hell, clearly also high on adrenaline and pissed off. He beats the steering wheel with an angry palm. Once, twice, four times fast.
This burst of rage bears no resemblance to the smooth operator I’ve started getting to know.
“How the hell did they find the safe house?” The roughness in his voice could scratch glass.
Splinters of fear lodge in my heart. With my mind racing, I consider his question in silence.
Howdidthe Russians locate us all the way out here?
I stop wondering almost as quickly as I start.
Because how do criminals do anything?
Ruthless predators like that Russian advance team, in particular, are the worst. They stop at nothing. How they found us just might be the least of our worries.
Bitterness and longing burst like a balloon in my chest. I wish Finn and his men were the ones who charged in to save me. That was my first thought, before Brody tackled me to the ground and the front door exploded to smithereens.
For a moment, I was flooded with the wild, blindingly bright hope that this nightmare was finally over. That my salvation had arrived.
And the worst part is that for all I know, my cavalry is on the way. They could already be at the safe house, wondering where I am and why a trail of death greets them.
Why did it have to be the Russians?
Then a different thought stabs the back of my mind. What if someone intercepted that message I sent to Finn andI’mthe reason they tracked us down? What if Finn doesn’t know where I am at all?
My sharp intake of breath cuts into our uneasy silence. Brody’s head snaps in my direction.
I shoot him a sidelong glance, hoping to avoid becoming the target of his ire, but it’s too late.
“What did you do?” The heft of his accusation drops on me like an anvil.
My chest puffs up in my own defense. “Saved your life, that’s what I did.”
With a curse, Brody cuts the wheel, jerking us out of the fast lane and onto the sandy right shoulder. The BMW screeches to a halt, and before I can protest, he’s out of the vehicle, stalking around toward the back.
The passenger door flies open so fast, I jump and nearly smack my head on the ceiling.
He stands by the side of the SUV. Fuming. Bloody and beaten andinfuriated. He grasps my arm and drags me out, my bare feet crunching on gravel and sand.
My legs, still shaking from everything we’ve survived, buckle the second my feet hit the ground.
Brody’s too angry to let me fall. He grabs a handful of my shirt and yanks me up so violently, I wonder if my top might rip clean off.
Even when my balance returns, he doesn’t release me. We face each other, stalled and sweaty under the midmorning Californian sun.
