Chapter 7

Sloane waited until Mateo gave her the go-ahead before slipping out of the room and following him down the hall with her shoes in her hands. If they had to make a run for it, she’d be a lot faster without the four-inch spikes. No one was in the hallway, but male voices carried from an intersecting corridor.

The squeak of the heavy metal door echoed as Mateo opened it, and she froze. The sounds coming from the other hall silenced just before the pounding of feet rang out. Mateo grabbed her hand, pulling her into the stairwell, keeping her behind him as he assessed the area before him.

Once he’d peered up and down and seemed satisfied with what he found, he shoved a set of keys into her hand. “Get to the car and lock the doors. If I’m not down there in a few minutes, leave. Find Rory. He’ll keep you safe. Don’t use your cell. In fact, get rid of it. They’re probably using it to track you.”

Sloane nodded as she listened to the instructions. She was no fool. Whoever was out there wasn’t playing around, and Mateo seemed like he knew what he was doing. She gave him one last look before dashing down the stairs. The cold cement was hell on her feet, but she didn’t slow down, and she didn’t look back. Not even when the door a few floors up clanged open, and a thud, followed by a grunt, came down to greet her.

She’d have to trust that Mateo had the situation under control. Her thighs burned by the time she made it down the twenty floors and found herself in the deserted alley. Several cars were parked there, but only one had a rental sticker on the bumper. Heading straight for it, she was glad for the bright light illuminating the lane all the way to the dumpsters halfway down the alley. She unlocked the door and slid behind the wheel, then locked them once more. He’d said to give him a few minutes, but unless someone came after her, she’d stay longer.

She took a deep breath. It had been a few years since she’d driven last, and she hated doing it in the city, but she’d manage. It was like riding a bike, after all, wasn’t it? She started the engine and threw it into reverse, squeaking a little when the car lurched back faster than she expected. You can do this, Sloane. Just go easy on the damned gas.

Easing her foot off the brake, she pulled out of the parking spot, then angled the vehicle so the passenger door was facing the one she’d used to get out of the building, and the front faced the open end of the lane. She put it in drive, then watched, her finger poised over the unlock button. Had the situation not been so intense, she might have laughed at the notion of her driving a getaway car.

A minute passed. And another. Damn it. Come on, Mateo. What are you waiting for?

Sloane peered around the narrow lane and even glanced at the rooftops—not that she could see much in the dark—making sure she was still alone. She’d turned her attention back to the door when movement at the end of the alley caught her attention.

A man stood there, arms relaxed at his sides as he looked straight at her. Something glinted in his right hand under the streetlight drawing her gaze. Unless he was carrying a black knife, the jerk was holding a gun. He was at least two hundred feet away, but there was no mistaking the evil smirk on his face as he raised his fingers to his lips and let out a sharp whistle.

Crap. The man didn’t hurry. His self-assured stare never left her as he came forward. A few seconds later, another man came jogging in behind him. How the hell was she going to escape? The alley ended at the hotel’s back wall. She couldn’t go inside. Even if there weren’t hunters closing in on her, the hotel door didn’t open from the outside. If she tried to leave the alley, they’d shoot—or, at least, she assumed they would. Why else carry a damned gun?

A second later, a loud clang sounded as the door burst open, and Mateo came barreling out. He scanned the area, his face tightening as he spotted the two men now rushing across the remaining distance between them and the car. Mateo leaped, reaching for the handle just as her finger pressed the unlock button, giving him access. The second he was in, she locked them again.

“Get down. Hit the gas, and don’t get back up until I say so,” he commanded as he reached for the wheel from the passenger side.

A deep gash on his forehead trickled blood down his cheek and neck, and he guarded his right arm.

“Now,” he snapped when she didn’t move for a second.

Scrunching down into her seat so all she could see was the black sky and the walls of the buildings around them, she pressed on the gas. For a second, the wheels spun, but then the car lurched forward with a squeal.

“Don’t let up. No matter what.”

Mateo grimaced as he wiped the blood from his face with his right hand, his scowl darkening as whining sounds, followed by tinny plinks, reached her ears.

“What is that?” she asked, her mind not quite willing to process what she was hearing.

He didn’t look at her as he tugged the wheel to the right, then gave it a hard jerk to the left. “They’re shooting. With a silencer.”

The driver’s side window exploded, raining bits of glass all over her.

“Fuck,” Mateo hissed.

Another shot hit the back window, shattering it, as well.

“Hold on,” Mateo ordered. He gave the wheel another jerk left. The car bounced, bottoming out, then hit something hard on the passenger side. The deafening sound of metal on metal, quickly followed by a shrill car alarm, blared into the night. The impact sent her crashing into the door, knocking her temple against the handle.

“We’re coming to a red light. Slow down.” He looked right, then left.

Crap. Even at close to midnight, the streets of New York had plenty of people milling about. They were going to end up killing someone.

“Gun it,” he demanded.

The second she did, he tugged the wheel. Horns blared, followed by angry shouts, but as far as she could tell, they didn’t hit anything or anyone.

He kept his hand on the wheel, glancing behind as he navigated the city streets. “You can come up now,” he finally told her.

With her heart still in her throat, she straightened in her seat. “Want me to take over?” she finally asked when Mateo didn’t relinquish the steering wheel right away.

He looked over at her, his eyes narrowed. “You should have been miles away by the time I got to the alley,” he accused. When he released his grip on the wheel, his hand shook.

“Right. And you could be dead. You’re welcome.” Sloane glanced over at him in time to see him grimace. Fresh blood coated his left shoulder, and sweat dotted his brow. Her heart pounded. “Jesus, how bad is it?”

“Didn’t hit anything important,” he said as he leaned his head against the seat for a moment, gritting his teeth. His gaze never slowed as it bounced from the road ahead to the side mirrors, then to the one that now sat crooked for his use on the windshield. As if that wasn’t enough, he twisted in his seat and peered out what used to be the back window. He hissed out a breath through clenched teeth.

“Take the next right,” he ordered again, his voice strained. “We’re going to rendezvous with Rory, then I’m going to find a spot to shift so I can heal.”