Jenna didn’t resist. Instead, she reached out with her free hand and in a single smooth motion, seized hold of the computer and slammed it against the side of Cort’s head. The blow dazed him, and she wriggled free of his grasp. In the instant it took him to recover, she found his gun and brought it up, ready to fire.
Cort froze, staring at the barrel of the pistol as if hypnotized. “Jenna, put it down,” he said slowly.
She saw in his eyes that he knew she would shoot, but she also saw that he was calculating his odds of surviving that first shot and taking the gun away from her. He was on the ground, and any move against her would require him to overcome his own inertia. The odds, she decided, were probably in her favor, but Cort knew, as she did, that the best way to deal with a situation like this was to move toward the gun.
She pulled the trigger.
The report was deafening in the small room, but Jenna did not even flinch. A spray of red erupted from Cort’s right thigh, and a curse tore from between his clenched teeth. Jenna kept the gun trained on him, shifting her aim so that it was now trained on his heart.
“Keys.”
“Jenna.” He was breathing fast, angry and in pain. “I can help, but you need to trust me.”
“Give them to me, or I’ll take them off your dead body.”
His hands came up in a gesture of surrender, then he reached slowly toward the pocket just above the spreading red stain. “You won’t make it on your own,” he said, grimacing as he brought out a key ring. “I can bring you in. Keep you safe.”
Despite his evident treachery, the offer was tempting. Cort had given her the answers she sought. He could just as easily have killed her the moment he walked in. She didn’t trust him, but if there was even a chance that he was willing and able to protect her, this would be her only opportunity to accept. If she refused, if she ran, there would be nowhere left to turn for help.
But if I’m as smart and dangerous as everyone seems to think I am, maybe I don’t need help.
She extended her left hand, palm up. He nodded, as if somehow agreeing with the logic of her refusal, and tossed the ring to her. She thought he might try a short throw as a distraction, but the keys landed on her outstretched fingers so precisely that she didn’t even need to break eye contact for the catch. She took a backward step and then bolted from the room, ignoring his shouted parting words.
“They’ll find you! They will kill you!”
37
As she sprinted through the safe house, Jenna heard more shots in quick succession, too many to just be from Mercy’s gun. In the brief time they had to make a plan before Cort’s arrival, they had discussed this possibility. It was their worst case scenario. While she and Mercy had hoped for a positive outcome, the last twelve hours had taught Jenna the importance of making her own luck.
She reached the front door and threw it open. There was a distinctive mechanical click as the remote-controlled deadbolt lock sprang out of the door. She had anticipated that the same mechanism which had allowed her access in the first place might be used to imprison her once inside, so before Cort’s arrival, she had stuffed the bolt hole with a wad of toilet paper to prevent the lock from seating. She had done the same with the screen door, but before she attempted to open it, she took a moment to scan the front yard.
In the brief time that she had been inside, the sky had lightened. The sun was climbing into the sky. While much of the world was still shrouded in shadow, she had no trouble distinguishing three cars that had not been there before, lined up on the street in front of the house. Four men were crouched behind the cars, peering across the street into the semi-darkness between two houses, where Mercy had hid.
Jenna glanced at the key ring in her left hand. The car key was recognizable by its shape and the plastic sheath that contained the alarm remote control. The logo on the fob — a circle with sprouting wings — told her which car it would operate.
Cort rode in style.
A blue Mini Cooper S sat just ahead of two generic-looking sedans that were probably from a government motor pool or a rental fleet. Jenna was reminded of a song she had learned in her early childhood—one of these things is not like the other.
The men at the cars had their backs to her and appeared to be unaware of what had transpired in the house. To reach the Mini, Jenna would first have to get past the fence. Or over it.
Her left arm was pulsing with pain, the sleeve of her shirt dotted red with blood that had oozed through the bandage beneath. A few hours ago, she had barely been able to lift the limb, but now, despite aggravating the wound in the struggle with Cort, she felt certain that the muscles would do whatever she demanded of them.
She wondered if she owed her fast healing abilities to some long-dead Russian scientist.
She darted out into the open, keeping her body bent forward as she crossed the short distance to the fence. Her approach went unnoticed by the gunmen who had their attention fully occupied, but she knew that would change the moment she vaulted the fence. They would see her. They would try to shoot her. She would have only a second or two to get into the Mini. Maybe less. They would probably start shooting as soon as they saw her, but if she could get into the car, lock the doors and stay down long enough to start the engine…
The doors!
Before attempting the fence, she spared another glance at the key fob. There were three buttons, each marked with a different symbol. Her finger hovered above the one that looked like an unlocked padlock, but she didn’t press it until just before she was ready to clamber over the fence. She was afraid the car’s alarm might give her away with a chirp when she hit the button. It did not. Instead something remarkable happened. As she hit the sidewalk, she heard the Mini’s motor begin purring. Cort’s car was equipped with a remote starter.
Whether deafened by the din of their weapons or simply hyper-focused on the threat across the street, none of the gunmen took note of her presence behind them. But Mercy must have, for at that moment, four shots rang out in quick succession, the rounds rapping against the fender of the rear-most car. Jenna made it to the Mini’s passenger door and got it open before any of the men realized she was there.
As she slid inside, Jenna stabbed down on the lock button. A loud crack resounded through the interior, and the passenger window disintegrated, revealing a hard face and reaching hands, but Jenna had already made it over the center column and slid behind the wheel. She thrust the pistol she’d taken from Cort at the would-be intruder and fired point blank. The man vanished. Jenna didn’t know if he’d been hit or simply ducked back at the sight of the gun. She didn’t particularly care. Her focus was on the unfamiliar control console in front of her. She knew the motor was already running. There were just two pedals on the floor — an automatic transmission. Thank goodness for that, she thought. She found the gear lever, shifted it into drive, and stomped on the gas.
The take-off would have earned her a lecture — or worse — from her Driver’s Ed teacher, but under the circumstances, it was perfect. The Mini shot forward like a startled rabbit, and it was halfway down the block before Jenna could even think about what to do next.
She touched the brakes and steered into a tight U-turn. The nimble little car easily negotiated the about-face, despite the narrow confines of the street. In a matter of seconds, Jenna was facing back toward the site of the gun battle. The gunmen and their vehicles were lined up on her left. Mercy was concealed somewhere to the right.
The gunmen shifted forward, the muzzles of their pistols flashing as they hurled lead down the street at the Mini. A bullet smacked into the windshield and plowed through the air right above her head. A jagged crack split the glass but it did not shatter.
Jenna ducked down behind the steering wheel, and moved her foot off the brake, preparing to charge headlong into the fray. Like a chess player working through the moves and counter-moves of a gambit, she rehearsed what would happen next.
Mercy waited across the street from the safe house and the shooters. Jenna would have to stop to pick her up, and when she did, they would both be exposed for as long as it took for Mercy to make the dash to the Mini. She groped for a better plan, but without being able to communicate her intentions to Mercy, there was no better alternative.
Except…there was.
They will find you, Cort had said, and Jenna knew he was right. The killers would never give up. They would not stop until she was dead — she and anyone with her.
Earlier, she had balked at the thought of dragging Mercy into the mess in which she now found herself. Despite the fact that Mercy had saved her from Carlos and had hauled her out the Everglades, despite the fact that the idea of facing the uncertain future alone terrified her, Jenna now saw with startling clarity that there was really only one way to ensure Mercy’s safety.
She stomped on the accelerator and the Mini shot down the street.
One of the gunmen leaped in front of her, striking a defiant pose, as if daring her to run him down, and he started firing. Jenna took the dare. The man realized his mistake a fraction of a second too late. There was a crunch, followed by a thumping sound as the man rolled across the hood, up onto the fractured windshield, and then fell away. Without raising her head or easing off the accelerator, Jenna sped past the cars, past the place where Mercy was hiding, and kept going.
Mercy wouldn’t understand her decision. She had not been privy to Cort’s revelation about Jenna’s origins or the reasons why the government hunted her so relentlessly. She would only know that Jenna had abandoned her.
But she would live.
The killers had no interest in Mercy. They probably wouldn’t even look for her, not with Jenna slipping away. Mercy would be safer without her.
It was cold comfort. As the Mini reached the intersection with the main thoroughfare, the reality of her situation sank in. There was no longer anyone she could ask for help or advice. She would have to face the rest of her life — however short that span would prove to be — completely alone.
But as she coasted through the stop and turned right onto Seventh Avenue, something else Cort had said echoed in her memory.
There are others.