Chapter 27 #2
“Alex,” I say almost whispering, trying not to alert anyone around, “this is exactly the kind of shit I don’t want to hear right now.”
Minutes pass. Then more. 9:40 comes and goes. So does 9:47.
Nothing.
No sign of her, no fucking target.
I clench the paper coffee cup until it crumples in my hand, spilling the liquid on my hand.
“Talk.”
“Still nothing. Go after her.”
Perfect. Fucking perfect.
I stand, brushing invisible dust off my jeans, two seconds away from snapping. “On my way.”
I walk as fast as possible, one hand in my pocket, brushing against the grip of the knife, just in case.
I turn the corner toward the alley behind her building.
And that’s when I feel it.
Click.
Metal at my neck, too cold and too fucking close. I think I found my girl.
“Cute,” I say. “Were you waiting for me?”
Instead of shooting the fucking gun—the only thing that could have potentially prolonged her life—she just stands there, waiting to see my next move. Bad fucking call.
I try to turn around so I can get a better view on the target’s position and that’s when her voice slides against my ear. “Don’t turn around, Victoria. This is payback for the doctor.”
Oh, this just got interesting.
She shoves me hard, the barrel still at my neck, guiding me down the alley until we get to the corner of a building. But shoving me into the wall doesn’t seem enough, because she keeps on pushing until I literally need to turn my head to the left to not smash my nose.
“I know I have enemies,” she says, pressing the muzzle harder against my skin, “but you? You’ve collected more than your fair share, so I’ll do everyone a favor and kill you right here.”
Is this her first time killing someone? “You talk a lot for someone who’s supposed to pull the trigger.”
She scoffs, and that second—that second—should save me.
I spin, slamming my elbow into her arm so I can throw off her grip. She curses, taking a step back, but not fast enough. I launch forward, punching her ribs with my knee and reaching for her wrist, trying to twist the gun from her hand.
But she is faster than I thought. The little fucker ducks and lunges toward me with her full weight. We crash against the wall, and my back meets the brick. That is the moment when she pushes her forearm into my throat, managing to leave me out of breath for a second.
I push her, but she slams her body into my arm, immobilizing it. With one hand useless and caught by the neck, the only choice I have left for now is to grab her gun. I almost get it but—
Crack.
The barrel connects with the side of my skull, enough to make the world tilt. My vision blurs, and I fall to the ground, trying to stop the ringing in my ears. This time, she doesn’t hesitate. Raising the gun, she points it in my direction.
I am fucked.
I get ready to embrace the impact—maybe her aim is as bad as her monologue—but before I get the chance, another bullet moves through the air and hits her straight in the arm that’s holding the gun.
Her expression is pure confusion, just as mine is. What the fuck is happening?
The last thing I hear before I sprint out of the alley on the opposite side from the newcomer is “Hello, D—.” and as curious as I am to see who saved my life, I don’t have time for it.
Whoever fired that shot? Good for them. But I’m not about to stick around and say thank you, so I just turn and run.
I can feel my heart in my throat, blood rushing in my ears. I have to, again, change the original plan. An echo of the cleaners padding down the way behind me reverberates through the air. At least the job is gone.
Fifteen seconds to file the report. One hour to check out. Two hours to vanish into the airport crowd. Then—done. Done with this fucking city and with Toronto and with Canada.
It would have been nice if I hadn’t seen someone following me
“Fuck. Alex.”
“Yes.”
“Someone’s following me.”
One second. Two seconds. Three seconds pass.
Nothing, nothing, nothing.
“Alex, fucking answer.”
Still nothing.
My blood runs cold. The fucking bastard is after me, probably trying to kill me as well, and I have no support. Did someone put a target on me?
“Alex,” I hiss through my teeth, “you better pray I don’t survive this.”
This is absolutely not the forty-five I wanted, and I’m pretty sure I can’t even count it as mine, but now I have bigger problems than my math.
At this point, the only real strategy I have is to do whatever I have to, to stay alive.
My car is maybe twenty feet away, and I’m moving as soon as I get in. I’m weaving through the streets like a lunatic, cutting through traffic, taking random turns, trying anything to get some distance. Nine miles in, I swear I’ve lost the person. But then my rearview mirror proves me wrong.
The motherfucker is catching up and I must admit, it looks pretty cool. I’ve never been involved in a car chase, and the follower is really performing.
I grip the wheel until my hands hurt and bury the pedal in the floor. The engine protests but it’s not my fault I got a normal car, I didn’t know this would happen. Mental note: get better rentals next time.
The car drop-off point passed ten miles ago.
I glance to the left—too much traffic. Right—I know there will be a dead end. Think, think, think. Oh, right! Thank you, Toronto guy.
“Plan B.” I mutter into the mic, hoping he can at least hear me.
“You don’t have a Plan B for this,” Alex screams back.
Now he answers?
“Now I do.”
This Toronto guy has made me walk around the city so many times, I basically know every remote place suitable for getting lost in.
The Thirty-Six location is perfect. Three miles ahead, there is a path that leads straight to the middle of the forest, making it absolutely impossible to see more than ten feet in front of you.
Downside? Driving over fifty miles per hour is like driving on a trampoline.
The road comes into sight, and without a second thought, I turn the wheel, the car angrily following my direction. The fucker is still behind me, way closer than I want him to be, but not impossible to lose.
If they follow, I’ll have to stop the car in the meadow anyway. Once fully stopped, based on his speed, I will have a maximum of five seconds to take my gun, get in position, and wait for them to come after me.
The road narrows into darkness, trees on both sides, and gravel crunches beneath my tires. I push it until the last possible second.
Then—
Slam.
I hit the brakes, and the car skids to a crooked stop, nose tilted toward a bush.
Five seconds, that’s all I have.
I throw the door open, grabbing the gun from the passenger’s seat, and duck low behind the open door, trying to follow what the other car is doing.
The forest swallows every source of light but I can hear everything.
The second car appears and stops less than ten yards from me. I raise the gun, finger on the trigger. Breathe. This will be a one-shot deal, clean and done. The headlights that blink straight in my eyes don’t help, but at least I have some visibility.
They step closer, and I’m ready for the moment, but…
In the pinch of a second before firing, I see him. The soft glow of the moon illuminates his face as he leaves the car. The same face I’d watched from afar too many times and from up close not enough. He’s not a threat—or at least so I hope.
Azrael.
What in the actual fuck? I lower the gun an inch—just an inch, what if he means funny business?—and that’s when he says it.
“I thought I told you never to run from me again.”