Chapter 17 #2
"This way!" She drew her weapon, laying down covering fire as another shot splintered the bark inches from her head.
They ran through the trees, Max stumbling beside her, his breathing ragged. As it stayed quiet, she prayed the gunman was on a different path and further away. Finally, they reached the gazebo, dashing down the path to the parking area.
The two black SUVs were gone—Dominic's security had left with him. Only Max's Jeep remained. She shoved Max into the passenger seat, his face pale and slick with sweat, then jumped behind the wheel.
The engine roared to life as their attacker emerged from the woods—a tall figure in dark clothing, rifle raised. Kara floored the accelerator, tires spinning on gravel as they shot forward onto the mountain road.
"Are you all right?" she asked him.
"It's nothing," he said, his head lolling back against the seat as blood seeped through his fingers, which were pressed against his wound.
It wasn't nothing. He was bleeding badly, and she needed to get him help.
"I'll find a hospital," she said. "Hang in there."
"No hospital. Too public. I'll be okay. It's not a big deal."
She didn't argue with him because she was distracted by the sudden appearance of a gray sedan on the road a half mile behind them. "We have a tail," she said. "I'm going to lose him."
She pushed the Jeep harder, driving the winding roads as fast as she could. Fortunately, the Jeep had more power than the car behind them, and she gained ground. But it wasn't enough. She needed to change things up. Then she saw it—a narrow dirt road disappearing into thick forest.
"Hold on." She turned the wheel sharply to the right, and the Jeep bounced violently as they hit the dirt track, branches scraping the windows. She drove deep into the woods until she found a small clearing, then killed the engine and waited.
The sedan flashed past on the main road, then came back a few minutes later, moving slowly, searching. But the dirt road was barely visible from the asphalt, hidden by overhanging branches.
She sat in silence, her hands shaking on the steering wheel, listening to Max's labored breathing. He was conscious but barely, and his skin was gray and clammy. After several minutes, she thought the danger was over. She got out of the car and went around to Max's side of the car.
"Nice driving," he murmured, giving her a pained smile.
She pushed his jacket back so she could see the damage. The bleeding had slowed, but she needed to get it to stop. She took off her jacket and then her long-sleeved T-shirt.
"Hey, I'm not really up for a strip show," he said, trying to joke.
"Too bad." She rolled her shirt up and pressed it against his wound. "Can you move forward just a little? I want to check your back."
He grimaced as he did as she requested, and she was happy to see an exit wound. "Looks like the bullet went through you."
"Awesome. I like having matching holes."
"Hold this against your wound. I'm going to get us to a medical center.
" She put her jacket back on and zipped it up, then jumped back behind the wheel.
She checked the GPS for alternate routes and made her way back to the highway.
In five miles, they would pick other highways, leading in different directions, and she would have a better opportunity to blend into traffic.
But those five miles were nerve-wracking, as she drove as fast as she could, tensing every time she saw a car coming in the opposite direction or up behind her, but there was little traffic, and finally, she took one of two exits, hoping she'd chosen the right one.
It was another twenty minutes before the traffic thickened, and she felt calmer. Max hadn't said anything in a while, and his breathing was still labored. But as she glanced at him, his eyes flickered open.
"Is he gone?"
"I think so. I need to get you to a doctor."
"No. We can't risk it. He knows I'm hurt. He'll be looking…"
He wasn't wrong, but she couldn't just keep driving. It would take an hour to get back to Manhattan. As the miles passed by, she went through what she needed to do, which included getting a first aid kit and finding a place to stay that wasn't in the city.
Mason might know of a safe house nearby, but could she trust the FBI after what had happened to Whitney while in protective custody? Could she trust anyone but the man beside her?
This attack had been directly on them. They had been the target. Someone knew who they were, where they had been, who they were talking to, and probably where they lived.
For a split second, she felt overwhelmed, but she refused to give in to that feeling. She just needed to think. Finally, it came to her. She grabbed her phone out of her pocket and punched in Jess's number. "Please pick up," she muttered.
"Kara?" Jess said. "Hey, how are you?"
"Are you still handling properties in Westchester?" she asked abruptly.
"What? Well, my mom does. Why?"
"I need a house, Jess, an empty house where I can stay for a few hours with no one knowing. Some place where no one would question the lights being on."
"This sounds bad. Okay," Jess said immediately. "I'm checking our listings." A moment later, she added, "We have a listing in Pound Ridge. The owners are in Europe for six months. Big house, end of a private road, fully furnished. Showings are by appointment only."
"That's perfect."
"I'll text you the address and the code to get in. What else can I do?"
"Call my brother," she said. "Tell Hayden it's not for me, but I need a doctor at this address, and he can't ask questions, and he can't tell anybody. I'm going to turn my phone off, so he won't be able to reach me. Tell him I'll owe him big time, but I really need his help."
"God, Kara," Jess said worriedly. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"I am, but I'm with someone who's not. Tell Hayden to bring his medical bag."
"Okay. I'm not sure what he'll say."
"He'll ask you a million questions, and he'll complain, but he'll come. Thank you, Jess. I'll explain later."
"You better. Take care of yourself."
A text came through a second later, and she changed her GPS to that address. "Hang in there," she told Max, who gave her a weak smile.
"Told you I'm fine," he said. "I've been worse."
She hoped that was true, but she wasn't convinced.
Fifteen minutes later, she parked in front of a drugstore.
She hated to leave Max for a second, but she needed supplies.
She ran into the store, grabbed a first-aid kit and bandages, then threw some random food items and drinks into the cart before racing to the self-checkout.
She didn't want to talk to anyone if she didn't have to.
When she got back in the car, Max's eyes were closed, but he was still breathing.
And she was more than grateful for that.
She pulled out of the lot and drove to the house, which was exactly as Jess had described.
It was set away from the road, and the nearest neighbor was on the other side of a patch of trees.
She pulled into the drive, opened the garage door with the code, then got back into the Jeep and drove inside.
As the door closed behind them, she took her first full breath.
"We're safe," she told Max. She just didn't know for how long.