JAMES #2
“What’s up?” she asks. We don’t have the kind of relationship where I call her just because. I’m not sure I have anyone I call for that reason.
“Dark grey van, two doors down on the opposite side. Two guys in Christopher’s employ just piled out.”
I wait as she moves around her room. “I have one of them,” she whispers.
“The other went around the back.”
“Two versus four seems unlikely,” she utters as I flick to the camera in her room. She’s already dressed, weapon ready as she shifts the net curtain to spy on the street.
Which means there’s another vehicle or more men inside the van. Probably the former. A backup in case they need to split up on retrieval.
“I’m coming,” I tell her. I want to pry apart how they found them, but now isn’t the time.
She snorts. “How many hours away are you? Shall I just wait for the Dark Knight to come rescue us?”
Fair point. But I’m not rational when it comes to Stephanie. I dig for the stoic version of myself most know and pull the truck over, knowing I’m more help as an extra pair of eyes.
“Put an ear pod in,” I tell her. “I’ll keep you informed on the street.”
Her door opens, and an agent from downstairs appears. “Backyard alarm is triggered,” he informs her.
“Wake Stephanie,” Camryn decides.
The agent nods as Camryn moves to wake her partner before ushering Stephanie to get dressed. She throws on a pair of jeans and a sweater over her sleep set before sliding on her sneakers. She’s scarily calm for a woman under threat.
“An SUV just pulled onto the street,” I tell her as four people in black clothing and masks jump out of the still-moving vehicle and circle the house.
“Two now coming from the front, two from the back, and one on each side. Expect all of them to be armed and wearing protection. Take a headshot if you have it.”
“You don’t give me orders,” she mutters as she throws a protective vest on Stephanie while they’re in the living room. Good woman.
“Who are you talking to?” Stephanie wonders.
“James.”
“Always watching,” she says with a sigh, like she can’t shake the thought of me. The feeling is mutual.
The camera jerks as someone slams into the side gate.
I grip the steering wheel hard enough that my knuckles ache while six camera angles flicker across my laptop screen.
Front door. Rear yard. Street view. Kitchen.
Hallway. Every inch of the property burns itself into my skull as I evaluate their escape routes, just as I did from the second I stepped inside the safe house.
“Movement rear left,” I tell Camryn. “Two coming toward the patio. They’re going to attack from the front and try to flush you out the back.”
“Got it. Go toward the scary gunfire,” she replies.
“What?” Stephanie whispers. “Shouldn’t we go down to the basement?”
Bloody hell, no. Never allow yourself to get cornered.
“Just stay behind me,” Camryn instructs.
Inside the house, the lights snap off, and the cameras switch to night vision. Stephanie’s head jerks around, and I can almost feel her rapid heartbeat through the camera. But she still doesn’t scream, because this isn’t the first time men have come hunting for her.
Glass explodes.
The kitchen camera distorts as gunfire erupts through the room. Agent Ivison drops behind the counter and fires back while Stephanie hits the floor beside the island with Camryn backing up to protect her.
One attacker hits the ground. The second disappears from view.
“Front breach,” I bark.
A shadow crashes through the living room window. Thompson fires twice. Muzzle flashes strobe across the feed like lightning trapped inside the house.
A black SUV hurtles down the street and skids to a stop, ready and waiting to steal Stephanie away, but it’s not the same one as before.
“Four more incoming,” I snap.
Camryn swears under her breath.
The men split up, trained and efficient. Two head for the back fence. One cuts down the side passage. Another moves straight for the front door, carrying a battering ram.
These are the retrieval men. The rest are expandable, even if they didn’t realize it until now.
I slam my palm against the wheel and force myself to breathe and stay focused. I’m seven hours away and useless except for my eyes. Stupid. I should have stayed close.
The front door caves in, and Stephanie flinches as the sound tears through the house. Camryn grabs her arm and drags her toward the hallway while Thompson covers their retreat.
“Isn’t this toward the bad guys?” Stephanie asks.
“Every direction is toward the bad guys,” Camryn answers. “You’re just going to have to trust me.”
A masked man appears at the far end of the corridor. I zoom the feed tighter. He raises a weapon. “Right side,” I shout. “Camryn, right side.”
She spins and fires first.
Two shots hit center mass, but the bastard keeps moving under the armor. Stephanie snatches something from the hallway table, a ceramic lamp maybe, and smashes it across his face hard enough to stagger him sideways.
I huff a disbelieving laugh as Camryn puts a bullet through the disoriented man’s eye.
Camryn moves again, Stephanie hot on her heels.
“Garage,” Agent Thompson yells.
“James?” Camryn checks in with me.
The camera flickers as another burst of gunfire tears through the living room. One of the other agents goes down, and my stomach drops. He crawls behind the sofa while another masked figure advances through the shattered window.
I check the cameras. “Garage is clear.”
“Move,” Camryn hisses.
The connecting door bursts open, and Stephanie stumbles inside, breathing hard, eyes wide but alert. The garage door rattles as someone slams against it, and another impact causes the metal to groan.
Agent Thompson takes up guard at the door, firing shots at anyone brave enough to follow.
I search the external cameras. The guy with the battering ram is doing his best to break inside. “One guy, no vehicle,” I tell her. “I’d just drive.”
“Agreed,” she mutters. She doesn’t hesitate, even knowing this is likely to kill another person. But we all know that if they get to her, she’s dead.
Camryn opens the passenger door and drags Stephanie inside the SUV. “Get in and stay down,” she instructs as bullets rip through the garage door, raining sparks across the bodywork.
I pull up the camera, giving me access inside the vehicle.
“Fuck,” she grumbles.
“Fuck, what?” No answer. She slumps over Stephanie. No, no, no. She can’t be hit.
“I’m fine,” she snaps.
Lie. Big fucking lie. I can hear the pain in her voice.
Camryn’s gun hand shakes as she grabs Stephanie by the neck of her sweater and forces a key fob into her palm before slumping over, clutching her shoulder.
I scan the feeds. They’re all converging. They need to get out now, or this might be the last time I ever see Stephanie.
Thompson barrels into view, clutching his side. He opens the rear door and groans as he climbs inside, while Stephanie scrambles across the console into the driver’s seat before grabbing onto Camryn’s shirt and yanking on it.
“What are you doing?” he barks.
“Trying to pull Camryn inside so I can get us out of here.”
Thompson leans over to help, and by some miracle, her body disappears inside the vehicle. Stephanie reaches over and slams the door shut.
“You can do this,” she mutters.
“Yes, you can,” I coax. The engine roars to life.
“Driving is like riding a bike, right?”
Oh, fuck, the last time she drove was years ago. I meant she could smash through a garage door and run down a man.
“Parking brake off,” Thompson groans. “Let’s go, King. It’s bulletproof glass, so don’t panic about them shooting at us and end up with your eyes off the road.”
It’s a natural reaction to get out of the way of a bullet hurtling toward you. Ineffectual, but instinctual.
“Now or never,” she whispers as she slams her foot down on the accelerator and rams the SUV into the garage door. Every muscle in my body locks.
The garage door buckles outward, and she hits the guy head-on and keeps going as she bumps over his crumpled body.
The SUV rockets over the lawn and topples down the fence, avoiding the blockade of vehicles Christopher’s guys incorrectly thought would stop their escape.
That’s because Stephanie doesn’t think like normal prey.
In fact, she doesn’t think like prey at all.
For all her soft edges, she is also a quiet force.
One of the pursuing men fires after them, and the rear window explodes. So much for bulletproof glass. What in the hell were they packing? Stephanie ducks but keeps driving. Good girl.
“Where to?” she demands. “Fuck no, guys. Come on, don’t die on me.”
I hack into the vehicle’s audio system and push the call from Camryn’s headphones to the speakers.
“Left,” I demand. Rather than startling, she settles at the sound of my voice. “Now, right at the junction. Don’t stop. You’re clear.”
Her breathing slows through the speaker.
Camryn presses her hand against her shoulder, blood soaking between her fingers while sirens rise somewhere in the distance.
And all I can think is that if they catch her tonight, Christopher will never let her go again.