Jack

Only one place it could be: Reston Plaza—major new development, four towers plus commercial space, spanning an entire city block. I goose the accelerator coming up the hill. I can see it already, four skeletal towers, darker shapes against the night sky. Got to hand it to Magnus: it’s the perfect hiding place. Here in the wee hours, the block’s dead—no clubs, no shops, no nightlife. Just rows of old low-rises, relics of the seventies, full of retirees. Hardly a lit window in sight.

She has to be in the east tower. It’s the only one accessible from the street. The construction office is in there, first floor.

I swing into the parking garage and take the ramp down a level. It’s pitch dark underground: only my highbeams light the way as I coast to a stop near the elevator. No power, of course—probably an empty shaft at this stage. I power on my penlight and hunt for the stairs. Nineteen floors—what are the odds she’s somewhere near the bottom?

“Stella?”

No answer. I start up the stairs at a jog. Someone’s been here, and recently. Smells of dollar-store aftershave—got to be Magnus. He thinks women go crazy for that shit. Has since high school. Not sure what it is about that minty, aseptic bouquet... Just makes me think of prom night and zits.

Stella always smells of light summer flowers.

I call out again on the third floor, the sixth, the ninth. She should be able to hear me by now, even from up top. It’s dead quiet. Even the street noise is barely a hum. I shout louder, to no avail. Maybe she’s gagged. Or unconscious. I push myself harder, jumping the stairs three and four at a time.

Still remember the first time we went running together. She was so determined to keep up. Even kept talking, while her face turned red as a beet.

Someone’s jammed the top two doors, as if the locks weren’t enough. So she is here... But I won’t get to her this way. I could pick one of the locks, given time, tools, and adequate lighting, but I’m short on all three. Doesn’t matter: there’s always a way around.

Two floors down, I find a door that yields to my shoulder. I’m not thrilled about monkeying up the scaffolding in the dark, sans harness, but I’m fresh out of options.

Think Stella’s scared of heights. Our rooftop escape—that was the one time I saw her back off a challenge. She didn’t want to go over that roof.

I call her name one more time as I step out on the balcony. This time, I hear something back—a faint answering cry, immediately carried off by the wind. That gale’s going to be a problem, especially getting back down. Stella won’t be doing any climbing on that ankle, and carrying her might not be practical.

At least it’s not raining: my footing’s solid and my grip’s sure. As long as I ignore the queasy sway of the structure, the vibration of my boots on the scaffolding, this is fine. All good. Good thing it’s only two floors, though: the metal’s cold enough to numb my hands.

“Stella, you there?”

No answer this time. I pull myself up over the side and roll onto the roof. “Stella?”

“Jack!”

“Shit—get back from the edge!”

Stella takes two big steps back and drops to her knees.

“What were you doing?”

“Trying to get someone to call the cops.” She chuckles. “Might even have worked, if there was anyone down there.”

I drop down beside her and hug her tight. She’s shivering violently, and the hand that grasps mine is cold as ice.

“Going to get you out of here, get you somewhere warm...hot chocolate, blankets, a bath—whatever you need.” I fold her into my jacket, trying to bundle some heat back into her. “But first, how’d it go at the hospital? Did you get seen? Everything all right?”

A genuine smile lights up her face. “More than. I saw the baby—heartbeat and all.” Her hands sneak under my shirt, stealing my warmth. “It’s so tiny, it’s like the whole thing’s one beating heart...a pea with a pulse.”

“Wish I could’ve seen that.” Next time, for sure.

“What was that?” Stella’s voice drops to a whisper. A cold sweat beads my neck. I strain to hear over the wind.

“I don’t—”

“Sh!” She cocks her head. “There! Listen!”

Fuck. That, I heard—a woman’s voice, raised in irritation; a metallic clang.

“This is good.” I rock back on my heels, positioning myself between Stella and the door. “We were never getting down the way I came up. We’ll go through ‘em—break for the stairs. You—shit!”

Stella’s got a foot of rebar from somewhere. She’s holding it like she means business.

“Don’t...don’t get involved, if you can help it. Stay behind me, and be ready to....” I was going to say run. “Be ready for anything.”

The voices are closer now. Coming this way. There’s a skylight-hole not five feet away. I hit the deck: can’t risk being spotted.

“...fucking toilet.”

“Not like she got far.”

“Whatever. I’m not scrambling up there. Let’s—”

I creep closer, belly to the concrete. As soon as their backs are turned....

“—want to bet that’ll be on our heads, too?”

“We’ll clean that up later. For now....”

They’re moving away. It’s now or never.

I drop into near-darkness. Magnus is already spinning my way. A glint catches my eye, and then I’m ducking and rolling, blinking away the afterimage of his muzzle flash. Forgot how quick he is with that thing.

“How’d he get here? What’d you tell him?” Katrina’s backing away.

“Shut up and—”

I charge him, low to the ground, going for his legs. My shoulder connects with his knee and we go down hard. I feel heat on the back of my neck—heat that explodes into pain. The butt of his weapon smashes into my shoulder, my back, my head.

“Just shoot him!”

I roll over on my back, pulling my knees to my chest. Magnus rises on his elbows, already aiming. My legs piston hard, and the gun flies clear. It sails into the dark and skates out of reach.

“Bad fucking idea!” Magnus hurls himself at me, and I see his game. Tangle me up long enough for Katrina to snatch the gun—never going to happen. A swift elbow in the face and he’s on his back, snuffling through a gushing nose. I press my advantage, pinning him to the concrete. I don’t want to kill him, but if I have to—

“Going to do me like you did Erik?”

“What?”

Magnus shoves me off. He’s furious, practically spitting, all knees and elbows and flying fists. It’s not hard to fend him off, the way he’s swinging wild. I block him hard, driving his own knuckles into his nose.

“You—you’re seriously going to pretend that wasn’t you?”

I jerk my head to the side, flinging him off. Fucker’s spraying blood all over me. “Not that I owe you an explanation, but it wasn’t.”

He rolls to his feet, scrubbing at his face. “Who else?”

Katrina’s circling around us, headed for the gun. I manoeuver myself into her path. Not today.

“Really, I want to know. Who gets to take the fall this time?” He’s closing in on me. Trying to herd me to the balcony. Time to end this.

“Think there’s plenty of blame to go around, don’t you?” A series of quick jabs keeps him on the defensive. I keep coming, driving him back. “Look, nobody else has to die. You got your jet. There’s still time to get out. No one’s after you yet.”

“We both know that’s not true.”

“So, what? You want to double down? Make it worse?”

He ducks my next punch and plows headfirst into my gut. I stagger, breathless, fumbling for his hair. Slippery fucker almost wriggles free, but I trap him against my belt. My knee flies once, twice, and on the third blow I let him go. Magnus weaves, but doesn’t crumple. I watch in disbelief as he drops to one knee, struggles upright, and shambles toward me.

“Just...stay down. It’s over!”

Magnus bellows, a wet, gurgling sound, rough with fury. I step to one side to avoid his clumsy charge, and Stella fucking kneecaps him. He doubles over, clutching his leg. Still standing.

I grab Stella’s arm instinctively, pulling her behind me. “When’d you—”

“Let’s go!” She’s tugging at me, putting her weight into it.

I sweep her into my arms and bolt for the stairwell. Metal scrapes on concrete: Katrina’s got the gun. She’s a quick shot—accurate, too. At least, she was in her active days. Don’t want to bet on her having lost the knack. I pivot to one side, fling open the door, and barrel through. The darkness opens up to welcome us. Safe, finally; I—

There’s a deafening report, a tinkle of glass, a hot streak across my hip. I lose my footing and gain it again, plunging into the black. No time to tread carefully. I hurl myself over the edge, sailing over the stairs, straight to the landing. I buttonhook around, and jump again. Stella muffles a cry against my shirt.

“Sorry—got to get out of here. That hurt?”

I feel her shake her head. “Just...don’t trip.”

“I won’t.” I hope. My left leg’s going kind of numb, and that’s definitely blood pooling in my crotch. Gross.

The door slams open, up above. An unsteady light seeks us out. I dodge it, redoubling my headlong flight. It’s starting to hurt, now, a pulling, tearing sensation, wet and meaty. Like before, with the bayonet, only...no. No. This time, it’s a flesh wound. A few stitches, a nasty scar—that’ll be that.

“There’s nowhere to hide!” Magnus—doesn’t he ever give up?

Stella curls tight against my chest, making herself as small as possible. I hold on tighter. Got to be halfway down now. I bite my lip to stay alert, trying to visualize the garage, the street outside. We need a plan—a plan for a clean getaway. Can’t have them chasing us through the city, putting innocent lives at risk.

Another shot rings out. It ricochets off the walls, missing by a mile. Katrina’s got to be firing blind. Or aiming for a reaction—a scream, a gasp, to pinpoint our location. Stella has the sense to stay quiet.

Five floors from the exit, we’re pulling ahead. Magnus is dragging, favoring one leg. Stella might not have broken his knee, but she’s done some damage. Katrina’s in heels—I can hear her clacking and skidding, trying to run. By the time they make it to the bottom, we’ll be out of sight.

“Hold on. Nearly there.”

I’m not sure, but I think I feel Stella smile against my chest.