Blood pounds in my ears. “I’d like to report a man on the side of the road about twenty miles south of here.” I name the exit and the highway. “I think he was attacked, and his leg is bleeding. It looks serious. Please hurry.”
Leaving the receiver dangling, I hurry back to the BMW.
Chapter 22
Trinity
Speaking with Finn filled me with a whole new sense of determination, but not all the terror rocketing through my system ebbs.
I’m basically in the middle of nowhere with an essentially bombed-out luxury BMW. Even a child would notice the bullet holes and scraped paint. The entire back windshield has shattered, glass littering the cargo hold and back seat.
Finn’s right. If I want to avoid detection—and the Russians hunting me down—I need to get rid of this junkheap as soon as possible.
Avoiding the main roads as much as I can, I drive into the city until I spot signs for a hospital. Perfect. A parking lot for a city hospital will be crowded, with plenty of cars to choose from.
I pull into a space toward the back of the lot. A quick search of the vehicle earns me about three hundred dollars in cash someone stuffed in the glove box. Not much, but it should be enough to buy me gas all the way to Austin.
The real question is how I’m going to muster the strength to steal a car.
Sure, Finn taught me a few things. I was a kid, though, and didn’t exactly keep up on my thieving skills throughoutthe years. Despite my family roots, I’m far from a criminal mastermind.
But this afternoon by the side of the road proves that I still have the instincts.
It also showed that I’m capable of taking care of myself, even at the expense of someone else. That I’m a Gallagher down to my bones. And that terrifies me a little.
The same viciousness they can unleash lies dormant inside me too.
Shaking off the dark thoughts, I weave through the parking lot toward the hospital’s front entrance. There are dozens of cars, but since I’m not in the business of hot-wiring, my best bet is to pick someone’s pocket, grab their keys, and then wander around this lot until I find the right vehicle.
I never imagined I’d find myself in this position, but…it is what it is.
That’s my new mantra. My only defense against the invasive flashbacks of the time I spent in Brody’s captivity.
I can still feel his rough hand around my throat, his fingers dipping in and out of me, his savage tongue exploring my mouth…
Why these are the mementos my brain decided to cling to, I have no idea.
Those, along with the image of him lying limp in the California desert, his blood pooling beneath him. The picture gnaws at my sternum as I power walk across the flat parking lot.
On any other day of my life, with any other person, I never could have left them in that condition. Even now, my nerves shriek. My personal ethical code haunts me. The person I believed myself to be doesn’t steal cars from hospital parking lots or leave seriously injured people in the dirt.
Not even kidnappers who cause my body to thrum with pleasure.
What else could I do, though?
He’ll be okay, I tell myself. I wrapped his wound, and that man is far too stubborn for any other outcome. Besides, the only reason I even care in the first place is because I don’t want to have his death or permanent injury on my conscience.
Maybe if I repeat that enough, I’ll actually start to believe it.
As I head into the hospital, fluorescent lights greet me. Tiled floors, bright wood paneling, and that sharp astringent odor. Unpleasant but clean. People pack the emergency room like sardines, leaving barely any empty seats.
If I can just force my nerves to calm down, the crowd will work to my advantage.
Once inside, I beeline for the nearest bathroom. I splash water on my face and stare at myself.
You can do this.
Swallowing down residual panic, I attempt to crawl back into the numbness.
