Chapter 20
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 of this chaos, 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, hunting Terminator 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.
How did the 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 and I’m the 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 and infuriated. 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.
Still with a fistful of my shirt between his lethal fingers, he slams me against the door of the SUV. “Start talking.”
My head thumps against the metal door. I wince, the breath leaving my lungs in a rush.
On this side of the BMW, we’re hidden from oncoming traffic. Behind him, the desert stretches out into parched hills.
As soon as I regain my balance and composure, I attempt to put some distance between our bodies.
The second my back’s turned, he pushes me again without warning. Not forcefully enough to sprawl me into the dirt, but still.
I whirl around and glare. “Do we really have time for this?” Even my voice sounds strange. Shit. Shit shit shit.
“Trinity.” He utters my name like he’s planning to murder me when this is all over. “What. Did. You. Do?”
“Nothing!”
What’s the point? Brody already takes his rage out on me for no reason. I’ll be in much worse shape if I actually give him one.
Better for him to believe I’m innocent—
Brody unleashes an unhinged roar, losing the miniscule amount of cool he had left. I flinch, my body on high alert.
“Could this mission possibly go more sideways?” He punts a small rock with his boot. The projectile soars toward the lanes of traffic and hits someone’s windshield viciously enough that the car swerves.
Brody paces in one direction, then pivots and heads straight for me. I inch away until my back hits the passenger door.
He slams the window behind my head, rattling the tempered glass. Air clogs in my chest as it tries to reach my lungs.
“From the moment I laid eyes on your spoiled ass, this entire mission has been a colossal bitch.” He’s seething, the muscles around his eyes twitching like mad as he serves me a scowl sharp enough to draw blood.
“If I find out you had anything to do with the Russians attacking us, and I mean anything, you’ll pay. ”
His threats sink into me like claws through flesh.
I’m frozen to the spot, but I don’t back down.
“You may not believe this.” My voice comes out soft and steady. “But I don’t give a damn how your mission goes, Brody. I’m not your sidekick, and I’m certainly not your property. I’m a person. If you think you can scare me into forgetting that, then…you’re bruised and
delusional—”
He closes his fist around my neck and exerts pressure. Though I can still breathe, the threat remains.
I swallow with difficulty. If Brody gets like this when he’s merely suspicious of me, what would he do if he knew for sure it was my fault?
I hope to never find out.
He releases his grip on my throat. My airway floods open, oxygen pouring in as I gasp for breath while doubling over and coughing.
Brody steps back, the intensity of his glare blunting by the second. When he speaks again, exhaustion has eaten up all the rage in his voice.
“We’re on our own and out of options.” He huffs away in frustration, but three paces away, he wobbles.
He glances down, and my eyes follow suit.
I slap my hands over my mouth to strangle my scream at the sight of blood seeping into the dirt at Brody’s feet and his red-soaked pant leg.
He’s injured. Who knows how much blood he’s already lost.
In fact, my captor may be on the brink of death.