Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
Four flats. Four. Fucking. Slashed. Tires.
“Me?” Allison squeaks.
“No, hun, not you.”
Justice makes an offended noise as he circles the Agile Security & Rescue truck. “You didn’t just ask me that. What kind of SEAL do you think I am?”
“One who’s about to steal a car.”
He cuts me a fast glare. “What, you can’t do it?”
“Man, you know I can. I’m busy, I’m sure as hell not walking away from Allison.”
His scowl turns to a smirk. He knew better, that fucker.
Justice is whistling when he strides away, melting into the row of cars adjacent to the now disabled company truck.
The parking lot is too exposed.
My skin crawls. It’s a sensation I’ve had many, many times in my career.
“We’re being watched. Keep your head down, babe," I murmur, scanning the perimeter while maintaining a hand on Allison's back to keep her folded over. “I haven't seen them yet. But my radar says someone is here.”
Now more than ever, I wish I had her in tactical armor. Not a stupid hospital gown. A cardboard shield would give her more protection.
Activating the new coms gear Justice gave me in the hospital, I hit him up. “Unlock the truck.”
He clicks the fob from somewhere. All the doors unlock with a quiet click. But the lights don’t flash, by design. All our team trucks have the lights disabled so we can unlock and lock them without being seen.
“Sit tight,” I tell Allison, as I shift around to the back of the truck. There isn’t much time to grab gear, but I get what I can reach without leaving her side.
By the time I’ve filled my pockets and a black backpack, Justice materializes beside a silver sedan three spaces over. The brim of his hat is pulled low.
He checks each handle. Casual. Skilled.
The car’s locked. But that won't stop him.
“I hear voices,” Allison whispers.
A group of nurses are coming from the hospital, their chatter carrying across the humid air.
After quickly closing the back of the truck, I angle the wheelchair to block their view of Justice.
"My stomach really hurts." Allison moans dramatically, playing her part. “I don’t know if I’ll ever eat again.”
"All right, sweetheart. I’ll just get you loaded up." I keep my voice gentle, like a concerned partner, while my eyes track movement at the far end of the lot.
Wait.
Neck tensing, I narrow my eyes.
A black SUV with tinted windows idles near the exit. It’s out of place. Sitting in a travel lane. The diplomatic plates are clearly visible even from a distance.
Fuck. This is what my radar was picking up.
This feels like the kind of trouble I don’t ever want when Allison is with me.
The nurses pass by, offering sympathetic glances. As soon as they're out of earshot, I lean down to whisper to her. "Company at six o'clock. Black SUV."
Allison tenses under my palm but maintains her hunched position.
My instinct is to throw her into the truck, even though it’s nearly immobilized. It’s possible to drive on rims, but risky. With the distance we need to cover, it’s a no go.
We could hole up in the hospital, but the security’s shit. So, it means we move out.
She whispers, “How many people?”
"Can't tell through the tint, but I'm not waiting to find out." I tap my comm. "Justice, we've got eyes on us. Need that ride now."
A soft click is his only response, followed by the purr of an engine starting.
"Show time." I grip the wheelchair handles tighter. "Ready to blow this joint?"
"Do I ever have a choice with you?" Her voice is steady despite the tremor in her body.
The SUV's engine revs across the way and it shifts into drive.
Here we go.
I abandon the wheelchair, scooping Allison into my arms, kicking it aside. Three long strides bring us to the sedan just as Justice throws open the back door.
"In!"
She squeals when I toss her inside but scooches down when I throw my oversized frame in behind her.
“Go! Go! Go!”
Tires squeal.
Allison lands half in my lap, clutching her gown closed.
The sedan shudders as Justice pins the accelerator.
The SUV's throaty roar is right behind us.
Two stone-cold faces flash through the front window. Intent, focused. Dangerous.
"Hold on!" Justice takes a hard right out of the lot, throwing us against the door.
“Hang on, babe.” I wrap my arm around Allison's waist, anchoring her to me as we tear through the crowded streets of Vandemora’s capital city.
"Turning!" Justice takes a hard right, making the car sway violently. Beggars can’t be chooser, but fuck, we need a better car.
I grab the seat in front of me. "Take the next left, then an immediate left into the market district."
Justice isn’t even sweating, but he is laser focused on the road as he grins. “How do you know this?”
“I had a lot of time to do my homework when I was back stateside for my injury.”
“Good.” Justice glances in the mirror. His hands relaxed but firm on the wheel. "Because that’s a professional driver."
"Diplomatic corps training."
Every passing minute freaks me out more.
We’ve got one shot to do this right.
“Here, babe. Let’s get this on you.” I managed to grab one tactical vest from the truck. “Ever wear one of these?”
“I’m an archeologist.”
“In a dangerous country.”
“I stay out of trouble. Usually.”
Right.
I chuckle. “You’re also a terrible liar.”
I get her strapped in, wishing it was a whole-body bomb-suit, only they’re shit to walk in. And forget running.
“Let’s buckle you up.” She hangs onto the handle above the door as I fasten her belt. "You okay, sweetheart?"
"Just peachy," she mutters as the car lurches. With a shake of her head, she makes a face. "Love being chased half-naked through crowded city streets. Let me guess, we’re going to have to make a run for it if we get cornered."
Despite the situation, I have to smile about her resilience as I twist to look behind us. We’re gaining ground. Luck stays with us, and we’ll get away.
“I’ve got something else for you.”
“Please tell me it’s a pair of pants.”
“Sorry, but it’s a jacket.”
“Of all the days not to wear panties. I swear, I’ll never make that mistake again.”
We’ll have to discuss that later. Because I like her without. A whole fucking lot.
Smirking, I shove a hand into the bottom of the bag I scavenged from the back of the truck.
She snatches the black and gray camo jacket out of my hand, but she’s also smiling as she shoves her arms in and zips it over the gown and the tactical vest. “I could kiss you right now.”
“We’d probably break our teeth. I’ll take a raincheck.”
I have to force myself to look away. As fucked up as this situation is, she’s cute as hell.
God. I’ve got it bad.
When she’s settled into the seat again with the coat zipped to her neck, she says, “Tell me they’re getting burned by this crappy sedan.”
“Definitely. Justice is like Dale Earnhardt, Jr. today.” I lean between the seats. “Bro, we’re about to shake them. Let’s run them in circles, then head to the farm.”
“Roger that. Which way do you want to go?”
“Take that alley coming up."
The sedan bounces through a gutter and shoots into a side street. The light above us cuts out immediately. Trash cans line the sides, leaving just enough room for the car.
No sun gets in here. And neither do any oversized SUVs.
"Ha!" Justice shakes his fist as he barks out a laugh. "Eat that, assholes! Remember these Camry tail lights in your nightmares."
I exhale and lean back. “Fuck. Let’s not get too excited yet, but we’re close.”
Only, as it always seems to happen on ops, the relief is short-lived. A second black vehicle appears at the other end of the alley. Blocking the exit.
"Premature celebration. Equally as bad as premature ejaculation." The car lurches as Justice slams on the brakes. "There could be more of them too. Bad guys come in baker’s dozens, it seems."
He’s right, and we both know what that means.
“Call Beast. This just got a lot more serious. But they’re not getting us.”
I stab the buckle on her belt with my thumb, releasing it, drag a gasping Allison across the seat and sling the door open.
The stench of garbage rolls over us like toxic fog.
Justice keeps his voice low as he speaks to Beast on the phone. The sound of the conversation filtering into my head. Our comms gear connects to the phone when in range, so I’m copied on the call.
There’s a lot of cursing on Beast’s end. But it’s quickly matched by mine.
“Fuck, boys. We got boots on the pavement. Three men just got out of the second car. Let’s go.”