Chapter 68

Hidden among the trees and darkness, Justice adjusted her night vision goggles and watched her pursuers. The Land Rover stopped at the edge of the woods.

A group of men got out.

She ran, pinning the stock of her rifle with her forearm, aiming the barrel safely away. Her lean legs stretched out as she skirted through the trees, and her mind sifted through her catalogue of satellite images. From this hill, the ground sloped and became even and flat, a straight and open shot to the barn.

She heard movement behind, men dispersing into the woods.

Shit. She ran faster. Not good. If she ran toward the barn, breaking from the cover of trees, someone would spot her.

Stumbling on a root, she worked her feet to regain balance. Nope. Holding out her weapon like a chicken wing, she slammed into the ground. Dirt, broken tree limbs, and a muffled umpf. Way too much noise.

Someone shouted. Her head began to buzz. Her heart rate doubled. Her ears thrummed. She got to her feet, double-checked her rifle, focused her hearing, sought out identifying sounds, determining location, distance, and intent.

They were close. Time to do the unexpected. Resettling her NVGs, she began to backtrack. It was a gamble, but she had an idea. Or the memory of an idea.

Years ago, when she and Gracie were teens, they’d gone down to Philly and had gotten into what Momma would later call an “unacceptable altercation.” Basically, they’d gotten into trash-talking a group of older kids, after one had whistled at them outside a convenience store.

Even back then, Justice had had a way with words. Enough of a way that one of the kids had pulled a gun on them.

Being younger, unarmed, and slightly inebriated, they’d run. The four kids jumped into their broken-down Expedition and gave chase.

Using a bit of evasive tactics—Gracie’s idea—they’d led the gang to a nearby apartment complex. At the complex, Justice hid while Gracie let them see her darting into a narrow alley. The driver had slammed on the brakes. They’d all gotten out and sprinted after Gracie. They’d left the car, as expected. The girls’ plan had been to try and hot-wire it, but the guys had left the car running.

Justice, who’d backtracked, jumped into the car and took off. She picked Gracie up at a prearranged spot. Being fifteen and having had two beers, they’d made it a few blocks before she’d crashed into a parked car.

Lessons learned: Don’t drink and drive hijacked cars. And if you leave your car running, because you may need to give chase, station a guard.

Keeping her breath controlled, she slowed near the Land Rover. Hoping. Praying.

All four doors open. Lights on. No one home. Car idling.

Same state. Different city.

She ran in a crouch alongside the Land Rover and slipped into the front seat. Seat warmer. Nice.

* * *

Switching off the Land Rover’s lights, Justice headed down the hill and straight for the stables. She clicked her mic. “Gracie?”

There was a long pause, a pause where she imagined her sister climbing out of a leather seat and being shot by a huge idiot wearing a USA baseball hat, a pause in which her throat dried and her heart froze. And then her sister’s voice, slightly garbled. “In mine shaft. Fence down. You close?”

Gracie had gotten inside? She’d gotten inside and turned off the fence. Whoa. Take that, American Ninja Warrior. You’re no match for a half-naked redhead with mad cyber skills.

“Almost.”

Static. “ETA?”

“Ten. Copy.”

The crackle of a mic. “Can’t wait.”

Fuck. “I’ll catch up.”

“Roger.”

Justice clicked off, slid her body down while steering over bumpy ground and closer to the gate. She’d probably be shot at. Good thing this thing was bulletproof. If someone did shoot, her best bet was to drive straight through the fence.

Sure it would attract a lot of attention, but she wasn’t exactly in stealth mode right now.

She neared the fence. There were no lights on along it. No one shot at her. Her heart rate picked up. She had the craziest feeling, the most insane idea. She could still sneak inside.

She slowed, parked the car, got out, pocketed the key. She looked around. It was quiet. No guards. The alarm had stopped.

Was that Gracie’s doing? She definitely couldn’t hear the hum of the fence. She drew closer. Not that she didn’t trust her sister, but someone could’ve turned it back on.

She chucked a bottle of Benadryl she’d found in the glove compartment. It hit the fence and rattled to the ground. Fence still off.

Okay. It could go back on at any moment. She could end up at the top, legs straddling either side when the juice came back on.

“J. Over here.”

Flicking up her NVGs, she looked through the fence. At the end of the stable, Tony stood, dressed in a guard’s uniform. He waved to her. “Come on.”

He stepped back into hiding.

Tony. Brilliant, wonderful Tony. He’d taken out a guard, stolen his uniform.

Slinging her rifle on her back, she took a running leap, hit the fence with a clang, and scrambled over. She landed like she’d been training for this her whole life—she had—and sprinted forward.

She ran around the side of the stables, her nose prickling at the smell of manure, and spotted him. She reached for Tony’s hand. He reached for hers. She skidded to a stop.

Walid.

Walid stood behind Tony with a group of armed men.

“Get down!” Quick as boiling hatred, she brought up her sidearm. Tony stepped up, intercepted her hand, pulled her forward, twisted her wrist into a lock. She cried out, dropped the Sig.

He caught the gun, released her. “You need to come with us.”

It took her a minute. It took her a lifetime. It took her breath away.

“You?”