Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Zadie had never understood people who ran for fun. Exercise was one thing, but running for any other reason didn’t make sense.
Right now, moving her legs as fast as they could take her made her wish she’d been a runner. Maybe then she could keep up with Gideon.
"When you hit the tree line, go right," she managed through ragged breath. "And you’re going to need to slow down and let me take the lead."
"It would be better if you moved quicker." He glanced over his shoulder and pointed behind him. "They won’t be stationary for long."
"My legs are half the size of yours."
She crashed through brush, branches whipping her face and arms, the relay station still too close behind them, and the chopper sounded like it was getting louder. But, at least, they had cover, and Gideon had slowed the pace.
"Our ride is twenty meters ahead."
Gideon fell in line next to her. His long legs appeared to be in slow motion. "You okay?" he asked.
"Peachy."
Deep in the tree line, the SxS lay hidden beneath a tarp stretched over its roll cage. She ripped the cover free and balled it into the cargo bed.
"You remember how to use this?" She pulled her rifle off her shoulder.
"Been a few years, but yeah." Gideon reached for it. "What has Darwin told you about me?"
"No time for chit chat." She ripped off the tarp off and threw herself into the driver's seat.
"No helmets?" Gideon asked as he climbed in and yanked the safety harness, keeping the weapon across his lap.
She ignored the question, turned the key, and the engine coughed to life. Always a good sign. She glanced toward the sky. "Do you see them?"
"No, but I hear them." He twisted his body. "Access road won’t offer enough cover. But I’m sure we can follow it close enough to get to where we need to go and still stay hidden."
"Sounds like a plan." She punched the gas, and the SxS lurched forward.
"Go north."
"Bunker’s south." She pointed the SxS west, deeper into the brush, away from the relay station and toward the access road. Every couple of seconds, she glanced toward the sky.
"Bunker?"
"I’ll explain later."
"Okay, but I need you to take me to my campsite to get my gear and to a diner."
"Not going to happen." No way was she going to risk stopping anywhere except deep in the woods, and not until she knew the helicopter was long gone.
"There are things I’m not leaving behind," Gideon said. "And I need to do something at the diner."
"We don’t have time."
The tree cover swallowed them, and she kept the pedal down, weaving through brush and timber, while the SxS got smacked with branches. In the distance, she could see a break in the trees.
The access road.
She glanced at Gideon. The legend. A man she’d admired from a distance for years. Meeting him was both exhilarating and anticlimactic.
He braced his feet against the floorboards, hair wild, eyes wide and focused, and hands gripped tight around the weapon. "Diner and then campsite. It’s not up for negotiation if you want me to come with you."
"Maybe the campsite, if what’s there is important, but why the diner?" She eased up slightly on the gas. She had maybe four minutes before she had to decide which direction she’d turn this vehicle.
"Intel gathering. I think someone there might have figured out how those assholes knew I would be there.
"I knew you’d be there just by tracking the nodes that went offline." She held his gaze for a moment. "How they knew isn’t important."
"It is to me," he said. "Either we make the stops, or I'll walk from here." He touched the buckle of the harness.
"You’re seriously not thinking about jumping, are you?"
"Go north, I stay in this seat. Make any other decision, I’m bugging out."
"You’re fucking crazy."
"No. I’ve just been burned one too many times."
"Fine." She yanked the wheel and as soon as they were pointed north and punched the accelerator. She glanced up through the canopy at a break in the trees. The sound of the chopper engine had faded, but it wasn’t gone. She wouldn’t breathe easier until it was.
Gideon continued to keep his gaze locked on the sky, glancing over both his shoulders.
She understood what it was like to lose almost everything. Finch had used her team to test his human weapons. He’d betrayed his country. He’d killed innocent people and destroyed careers.
And for what?
Power? Money? Did it even matter the why?
If Gideon needed to find one small piece of this puzzle, she’d try to help him—as long as that damn chopper stayed off their tail.
So far, so good.
"What’s your name?" Gideon asked.
"Zadie."
"Nice Hebrew name. I think it means princess, or lady, or something."
"It’s also Yiddish and means grandfather." She chuckled. "And I was named after my Papa."
"Gideon was my father’s middle name and his father’s first name.
" Gideon glanced in her direction. "It’s also Hebrew.
Looks like we have a few things in common.
" He pointed to his right. "You’re going to have to cross the access road.
The diner is just over there. We can park this in the woods and go on foot. "
She slowed as she approached the road, doing a quick scan of the area. Going to the diner wasn’t necessarily the smartest decision. However, gathering intel on the men she’d killed, and those following her and Gideon, wasn’t a stupid one.
The access road was nothing but gravel. No sign of the helicopter anywhere, and they hadn’t seen anyone on foot or in a vehicle since they’d taken off. Didn’t mean they weren’t out there.
Zadie crossed fast, keeping the SxS tight to the tree line on the other side before cutting toward the back of the diner sitting on the side of a two-lane road in the middle of nowhere about three miles outside of a small town that probably had less than a population of two-hundred.
She knew that kind of town all too well. Her childhood had unfolded in a comparable setting, where she had a computer, a gaming system, and a father whose efforts vastly exceeded his income.
She placed the SxS between a rusted dumpster and a stack of pallets that appeared untouched since the place opened and turned off the engine.
"You can stow the rifle under the rear seat." She waved her hand before reaching into the center box and pulling out a handgun. She tucked it into her waistband, tugging her jacket down over it.
Gideon climbed out, slinging his backpack over one shoulder.
"Leave the pack," she said.
"Negatory. Wherever I go, it goes."
She stared at him for a second. "Fine." She jerked her chin toward the diner. "Anything I should know?"
"Just follow my lead."
"Right."
They came around the side of the building and through the front door. The smell of bitter coffee hit her first. God, she hated that smell. Hated the taste of that shit even more.
Then came the bacon grease followed by vanilla and cinnamon. Those scents she could get behind.
The place was small—or, as her dad would say—intimate.
Her old man lived for a good greasy spoon.
His favorite thing to do on a Sunday morning had been to drive to The Soggy Beaver where he’d order a cheese and bacon omelet, maple French toast, crispy hash browns, a side of bacon, and sausage.
To top it off, he’d steal one of her pancakes.
It amazed her that her father wasn’t overweight.
This place, which appeared nameless, had a handful of booths, a counter with stools, and a hostess station near the entrance manned by a blonde woman whose smile arrived before the rest of her.
"Well, well." The woman's gaze landed on Gideon and then slid to Zadie with the kind of assessment that had nothing to do with hospitality. "You're back awful quick, sugar. And you brought company."
"This is my girlfriend," Gideon said.
Zadie hadn’t expected that, but she smiled as big as the hostess’ southern accent and leaned into Gideon's side. She placed her hand on his chest. "I’m Felicity."
"And this is Praline, the hostess I was telling you about." Gideon looped his arm around Zadie’s waist.
"I was just telling your man this morning about our pie baking contest this Friday." Praline tilted her head. "You bake?"
Zadie glanced up at Gideon. "Honey, you didn't mention anything about that. You know how much I love pie."
Gideon leaned in and touched his lips to her cheek. The stubble scratched. "And I love to eat your pie," he said, his voice low enough that it could've been intimate if it weren't so clearly a performance. Gideon turned back to Praline. "Has anyone come in asking for me?"
"No. Why?" Praline's smile stayed, but she shifted her weight from side to side, and her right eye twitched. She also shifted her gaze, glancing for a nanosecond over Gideon’s shoulder toward the door that led to the parking lot.
That said a lot.
"Felicity was on the internet this morning in our hotel room and learned that a couple of buddies I work with are in the area. I wouldn’t want to miss them."
"Haven't seen anyone new." Praline's fingers moved to the collar of her shirt, and her gaze drifted toward the front window.
Zadie continued to focus on Praline and her body language. Something didn’t add up. Zadie had spent her career reading people through screens. The tells there were different because they came in how people strung words together. How they paused before answering. Or how quickly they responded.
But Praline’s tells weren’t all that subtle. The tightness in her jaw that she tried to loosen by licking her lips or just moving her mouth when not speaking. The way she shifted her weight to her back foot, as if she were ready to move, even though she had nowhere to go.
It all indicated nervousness.
The low rumble of a V8 engine rolled through the air. Zadie glanced over her shoulder. A truck pulled into the lot—dark, clean, tinted windows.
"Babe." Zadie squeezed Gideon's arm. "I think your friends are here. Maybe we should surprise them."