Chapter 34
THIRTY-FOUR
This is not running. This is falling.
Gravel bites into my palms as I hit the ground behind a decorative fountain in Parson’s backyard. Oh my god.
My heart’s trying to punch through my ribs.
Justice is hot on my heels, Parson’s unconscious body slung over his shoulder, seemingly weightless. Ryker’s already vaulting the fence into the neighbor’s yard, moving with the fluid grace of someone who’s done this a thousand times.
I’m the weak link here. The scientist playing soldier.
“Over, Rosalie!” Justice’s voice cuts through the chaos. I should have gone to the gym.
My hands catch the top, muscles are screaming, and I try to haul myself up. Only I don’t even make it three inches.
“Use your feet,” Justice says as his hand finds my butt. Then he’s shoving me into the air.
How?
He’s carrying dead weight and pushing me up the fence?
I almost scream when Ryker grabs my wrist. A second later, I’m sailing over the top, Ryker’s hands gripping me hard at the waist as he sets me down.
My head is spinning, and when he lets go, I tumble, slip on the grass, and land face-first on a birdbath. There’s so much adrenaline in me, I bounce like a ball and somehow I’m running again with Ryker laughing at me.
“How can you be laughing?”
I squeak when he hoists me over a much smaller fence, which Justice leaps over like he’s running freaking parkour.
That’s when I realize where we are.
“Where’s the car?” I gasp, scanning the street.
That’s when I see it—or rather, don’t see it.
Our ride is gone. The spot where we parked three houses down is empty except for a Prius and a minivan.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Ryker mutters, his phone pressed to his ear. “Mako, where the hell is our vehicle?”
I can’t hear the response, but Ryker’s expression says it all.
“Gone,” he tells us, already scanning the neighborhood. “Heat signature showed two guys circling it. They just put it on a rollback, those motherfuckers.”
“That’s three trucks this year,” Justice says, shifting Parson’s weight. There’s something almost amused in his tone despite everything. “Marshall’s going to have an aneurysm.”
“Before I was hired,” Ryker adds. “Don’t count that against me.”
A door slams somewhere behind us. Shouts are getting closer. I nearly levitate, I’m so freaked.
But where can we go?
The neighborhood is all manicured lawns and identical driveways. Security cameras on every porch. Motion lights like fireflies.
We’re exposed. Hunted. And our extraction vehicle just drove away.
Parson groans, head lolling against Justice’s back.
Great. That’s all we need.
“Shut up,” I hiss at him, earning a surprised look from both men.
Parson’s eyes flutter open, unfocused. “What—where—”
I pull out my bear spray, holding it inches from his face. “One more sound and I introduce you to capsaicin in concentrations you can’t even imagine. Nod if you understand.”
He nods, eyes widening.
Justice’s mouth twitches. “Remind me never to piss you off.”
“Too late,” I shoot back, adrenaline making me bold.
Ryker’s moved ahead, crouched behind a BMW in someone’s driveway. “We need wheels. Something fast.”
“Grand theft auto?” I can’t quite keep the disbelief from my voice. “That won’t be obvious.”
“You have a better idea?”
Before I can answer, headlights sweep across the street.
We drop, pressing ourselves against the side of the BMW. Justice crowds against me as my pulse hammers in my throat. A black SUV cruises past, moving slow. Searching.
The vehicle stops two houses down.
Doors open. Four men emerge, all carrying weapons that definitely aren’t legal in this zip code. I almost pee my pants.
Justice whispers, “Through that yard. Now.”
We move like shadows—or at least they do. I’m more like a shadow that keeps tripping over its own feet.
The next yard backs up to a golf course. Manicured greens stretch into darkness, punctuated by the occasional flag marker.
“There she is.” Ryker points. “Our ride.”
At first I don’t see what he’s looking at. Then I spot them—a row of golf carts parked beside a maintenance shed.
“You’re joking,” I say.
“Dead serious.” He’s already sprinting toward them.
Justice follows, Parson bouncing against his shoulder with each stride, and I’m in complete awe at how long he’s been carrying the man. God, I can barely carry my own butt.
I bring up the rear, legs burning, vest chafing, wondering how my life went from analyzing silicate compounds to stealing golf carts.
Ryker reaches the first cart, fishing something from his pocket. Some kind of tool I don’t recognize, but somehow I’m not surprised he carries it.
The cart hums to life. “Ride or die,” he says with a dark laugh.
“Combat humor is a thing, huh?” I ask, throwing myself into the seat.
Justice dumps Parson into the back—not gently—and swings in with him.
We’re moving before I’ve even grabbed the safety bar.
The electric motor is nearly silent, which is probably good for stealth but terrible for my nerves. I keep expecting us to stall out, to get caught, to—
A sharp crack splits the air, and it takes me a few seconds to realize... that was a gun.
Justice grunts and hisses at the exact second I realize what’s happened.
“No,” the word tears from my throat, too loud, before I can stop it.
“They hit Parson,” Justice mutters, frowning. “Nothing fatal, but he’s out cold. Saw his own blood.”
Another shot whistles past, so close I feel the air displacement. Oh my god. We might all die.
Ryker yanks the wheel, sending us careening around a sand trap. The cart’s not built for this. We’re maxing out at maybe fifteen miles per hour. Any second we might flip over.
“We need to go faster, but truthfully I’m questioning your driving skills,” I screech, barely able to breathe.
“It’s a golf cart, not a Ferrari,” Ryker shoots back.
We hit the edge of the golf course, the cart bouncing over a curb and onto the asphalt. Ahead, I can see lights—a parking lot, maybe a clubhouse.
And beyond that, more vehicles. Including what looks like a delivery van.
“There,” I point.
Ryker sees it too. He aims us toward the lot, pushing the cart for every ounce of speed it has. We’re twenty feet away when another shot rings out.
This one finds its mark in the cart’s battery compartment. Sparks fly. The motor sputters.
“Jump!” Ryker yells.
I don’t think, just react, throwing myself from the moving cart.
I hit the pavement rolling, tactical vest absorbing most of the impact. When I come to a stop, my palms are scraped raw and my ribs are screaming. Justice and Parson land nearby. Ryker is somehow already running.
I swear I’ll go to the gym, God, I promise. Just let me live.
Justice is already on his feet, dragging Parson with him despite the blood soaking the man’s shirt. I force myself up, legs shaky but functional.
The van’s back door flings open. Ryker jumps in, scrambles to the steering column where he does something magic. Again. If there’s two things he’s good at, it’s stealing things and breaking into places.
Justice shoves Parson in, then reaches for me, and I fall into his arm, my breath coming in sobs. We made it.
“Good job, baby.” He kisses my cheek.
Ryker floors it.
For a moment, we just lie there in the back of a stolen van, breathing hard, covered in blood and dust.
“Everyone okay?” Ryker calls from the driver’s seat.
I laugh, covering my face. “We’re alive!”
“That’s a good day in my books,” Justice rasps, dragging me to him so he can kiss me. This time on the lips, and my heart leaps with joy. With a slow glide of his tongue that makes everything fade away for a few seconds.
“Are we really going to Costa Rica?” I prop up on my elbow to find Parson lying there, looking too pale. “Oh no! Is he dead?”
“I’m not dead, but you’re going to wish you are,” Parson says hoarsely, licking his dry, cracked lips. “You don’t know what you’ve just brought down on your heads.”
Justice feels around on the van floor, a satisfied look when he finds a muddy rag. The stench of something decaying floats off it as he waves it in front of our hostage. “Thanks for the heads-up. Why don’t you chew on this for a while as you think about who has the upper hand.”
When Justice is done, he pulls me onto his lap. “Now, where was I?”
I slide my hands over his strong shoulders, letting myself melt into his touch as he takes my mouth with a possessive growl. I’m so high on adrenaline and breathing Justice’s pheromones, it’s dangerous to be touching him. But I can’t stop myself.
Not when something wild and free has been set loose in my body.
Grabbing my hip, Justice rocks me against him. Whoa... is that? He gives me a hot wink.
Against my ear, he whispers, “Your badass little self’s got me all worked up.”
I giggle, champagne a poor second to what I’ve got going on inside my veins right now. No wonder people get addicted to adrenaline. And men like Justice. I totally get what Allison was saying now.
“Unfortunately I think it’s going to be a while,” I say as I press my lips to his again, taking another intoxicating taste. Because, why not?
“I’m not a limo driver, you two!” Ryker’s voice cuts through the moment. “You guys are worse than homecoming dates. I can just put you out on the—”
He abruptly stops, checking his watch between flicking his eyes to the road and back.
“Fuck,” he roars, “Marshall’s texting, and all it says is: Do not return to the safe house.”