Page 134 of Hard Heart

No, it meant hold on and pray, and I wasn’t even religious. Flora was gone, and it was my fault. My fault that she’d come to the United States, my fault that she’d been put in a position where a ruthless predator had decided to use her as leverage. Because that was surely what was coming, wasn’t it? They’d kidnapped Flora to use against me, and in turn, against Levi. Would I sacrifice my sister’s life for his freedom?

I couldn’t.

Not only because I loved her, but because he wouldn’t let me.

And the worst part? Jerry had warned us. Okay, she figured I’d be the hostage, but she’d said there was danger, that Ruby’s killer would try again, and she’d been right.

“The Hawk’s up from Andrews,” Dice said. “We’ll have eyes in eight minutes.”

“The Bugs?”

“Also en route. Fourteen minutes. They’ll beat us there, but not by much.”

“What does that mean?” I asked. “What’s happening?”

“There’s a drone in the air with an assault team following.”

What was the cross thing our old Catholic neighbour did? I needed to do that.

“No, no, no, no, no!” Spider yelled.

“What?” I asked, tempted to snatch the earpiece because I hated being kept in the dark.

“Don’t do it, you crazy kamikaze bitch!”

“Do what?”

“Shots fired,” Dice said.

She was already driving like a maniac, but she put her foot down and the vehicle surged forward even faster. My chest tightened as the edges of my vision darkened, and my last thought before oblivion came was that passing out would be a blessed relief.

CHAPTER 41

JEZEBEL

Jez’s head throbbed.

Her leg burned.

Her ribs were on fire.

Oh, wait. That was the car. The car was on fire.

And what was that thumping noise?

Smoke curled through the interior as the blonde who’d rammed Jez into the ditch fired at the side window, but the SUV was a loaner from the Bugs—aka Point Team Alpha—and it came with a few upgrades. The glass would stop a bullet from her .22, but a rifle round could penetrate. Jez fished around in the console for her pistol and came up empty. The inside of the vehicle was a twisted cage. Airbags hung limp and deflated, her phone screen was a spiderweb of cracks, and the dashboard lights flickered weakly like dying fireflies. The stench of gas underlying the smoke set her pulse racing. Cars rarely exploded the way the movies would have you believe, but once a fire took hold, you sure didn’t want to be inside one.

Lights flared through the windshield as another vehicle approached. No, two vehicles, front and back. More headlights appeared in the remains of the rear-view, making Jez blink as her retinas protested. She wanted to shout out, to warn the drivers to stay away, but all that came out was a croak, and as the silhouette of a man came closer, she realised he was carrying a gun too.

“Bullet or burn,” he called. “Your choice, Jezebel.”

He knew her name. That was the moment she realised she was in real trouble. Not that she hadn’t known that already, but now she knew, knew. This was Eight. This was Eight, and he’d come to kill her.

But why was he walking away?

Jez tried to reach the backup piece on her ankle, but the steering wheel was in the way. The engine block had shifted backward in the collision, the crumple zones doing their job, kind of. She was alive, but stuck. And even if she could reach her gun, she’d have to use the emergency release to punch out the windshield, and they’d kill her before she could kill them.

Fuck.