Chương 3
There was adhesive residue on the back.
“It wasn’t sitting loose,” she said.
Lucian nodded.
“Mounted.”
“He wanted it hidden until he needed it.”
“Or until someone else did.”
“What does that mean?”
Before Lucian could answer, a floorboard groaned outside.
Elena killed the bedside lamp.
Darkness closed around them.
The apartment door exploded inward.
The chain tore free.
Lucian grabbed Elena by the back of her scrub top and dragged her sideways as the door struck the wall.
The first man through carried no visible gun.
He carried a collapsible baton.
That told Elena more than a firearm would have.
They wanted someone alive.
The man crossed two steps before Elena hurled the bleach bottle.
It struck his chest.
He flinched.
Lucian moved.
Not quickly.
Efficiently.
He caught the man’s wrist, redirected the baton into the doorframe, drove one elbow into the side of his neck, then almost folded when his own wound tore farther.
The second attacker appeared behind him.
Elena drove the chef’s knife forward.
She stopped the blade an inch from his throat.
He stopped too.
They stared at each other.
He saw fear in her.
She saw calculation in him.
Then Lucian said, “Do it.”
Elena did not.
Instead she kicked the man’s knee.
It buckled.
She shoved him backward into the first attacker and slammed the door against both of them.
“Move,” she told Lucian.
He did.
They crossed the kitchen.
Elena shoved open the fire escape window.
Rain hit her face.
Lucian looked down.
Three floors.
An alley lit by a broken security lamp.
A black sedan idled at one end.
He said, “That’s not mine.”
“Wonderful.”
The apartment door struck something heavy behind them.
They climbed out.
Lucian descended first because he refused to let Elena do it.
At the second landing his boot slipped.
His right hand caught the railing.
The motion tore something inside him.
He made no sound.
Elena saw his jaw tighten.
“Stop.”
“Not here.”
“You fall, I’m not carrying you.”
“You’d try.”
“I’d check your pockets first.”
He looked up at her through the rain.
There it was again.
That almost-smile.
They reached the alley.
The sedan’s headlights came on.
Elena grabbed Lucian’s sleeve.
They ran the other direction.
Ran was generous.
Elena ran.
Lucian moved with the stubborn forward momentum of a man whose body had stopped participating in the plan.
A door opened behind them.
Someone shouted.
The sedan accelerated.
Elena saw the narrow service lane between a laundromat and a closed Vietnamese restaurant.
“This way.”
They squeezed through.
Lucian caught the brick wall with one hand.
Blood darkened the side of his shirt.
Elena looked back.
Two men entered the lane.
One wore a patrol uniform.
The other did not.
Garrett’s people or Lucian’s enemies.
Maybe both.
Elena stopped asking which.
At the far end of the service lane stood a dented blue Honda.
Her Honda.
Lucian stared at it.
“Yours?”
“Yes.”
“You parked two blocks from your apartment?”
“My landlord rents the building spaces separately.”
“How much?”
“What?”
“How much?”
“One hundred eighty a month.”
He looked almost offended on her behalf.
“In this neighborhood?”
“Could we discuss housing economics after nobody is chasing us?”
Elena unlocked the car.
Lucian folded himself into the passenger seat.
She got behind the wheel and turned the key.
Nothing.
She closed her eyes.
“No.”
Lucian looked at her.
“No?”
The engine clicked again.
“My battery.”
Behind them, men entered the street.
Lucian reached inside his ruined suit.
Elena seized his wrist.
“If you pull a gun in my car—”
“I don’t have one.”
“What are you reaching for?”
He removed a black key fob.
He pressed it.
Across the street, a gray Range Rover flashed its lights.
Elena stared.
“You have a car?”
“I did.”
“You made me run through an alley?”
“I wasn’t certain who had it.”
“You are a deeply irritating person.”
“You stabbed at a man’s throat.”
“I missed deliberately.”
“So did he.”
That stopped her.
“What?”
“The man at the door. He had a baton. If the order were to kill you, he’d have brought a gun.”
Elena looked through the rain-streaked windshield.
The men had seen them.
Lucian opened his door.
“Range Rover.”
They made it across the street as the first attacker broke into a run.
Lucian tossed her the key.
“You drive.”
“You trust me with your car?”
“No.”
They got in.
Elena started the engine.
A warm electronic chime welcomed Lucian by name.
She gave him a look.
He said, “Not now.”
She put the Rover into gear.
A man reached the rear quarter panel.
Elena accelerated.
She did not know where she was going until she was already three streets away.
Lucian had slumped against the passenger window.
“Stay awake.”
“I am.”
“Your eyes are closed.”
“Resting.”
“You don’t get to rest.”
He opened one eye.
“That how your hospital works?”
“Yes.”
“No wonder people hate hospitals.”
“People hate bills. We just get blamed.”
His eye closed again.
Elena checked the mirror.
No headlights stayed with them for more than a block.
That meant very little.
Lakehurst at 2:31 in the morning had enough traffic to disappear in if you knew how.
Garrett had taught her that.
Not intentionally.
Garrett had taught her many useful things while explaining how impossible it would be for her to escape him.
He had taught her that police databases recorded searches.
That toll transponders created travel histories.
That credit cards built maps.
That social media revealed friendships even without tagged photographs.
That utility accounts were searchable through commercial databases.
That people who ran badly reused birthdays and pet names.
For years Elena had hated herself for retaining those lessons.
Tonight they were the only reason panic had not taken the wheel.
She drove south instead of toward any person she knew.
Lucian opened his eyes.
“Where?”
“A place.”
“Whose?”
“No one’s.”
“That is not an answer.”
“It’s the one you’re getting.”
May you like
He shifted and sucked air through his teeth.
Elena glanced down.
