“We won’t try anything,” Coulter said calmly. “You can release her. We’ll cooperate.”
Unexpectedly, Coulter let out a shuddering breath, and his face contorted in pain. He doubled over onto the countertop and let out a moan.
“Please, you have to let me help him,” Marena said, quickly turning as much as she could to face her captor. “He’s not well. I’ve got to take a look at him.” She tried to pull away.
The man took his eyes off Coulter. Seconds later, Coulter grabbed a kitchen knife and flung it at the man. It whirred past Marena and embedded itself in his leg. Releasing Marena instantly, he howled in pain. She headbutted the assailant, then jabbed him in the stomach with her elbow knocking him to the ground. The moment Coulter heard gunshots, he grabbed Marena and flung them both to the floor.
He used his body to shield her at first but then rolled to the right to raise his pistol and return fire. Marena’s ears rang, but there was too much adrenaline coursing through her veins to be affected by it.
When it was quiet, Coulter got up, motioning for Marena to stay put. Cautiously, he left the kitchen and slowly advanced toward the living room. The moment he spotted his target’s leg pop out from behind the couch, Coulter aimed and fired. The bullet landed in the assailant’s calf.
The man yelled in pain and jumped up from his hiding spot. His face was a mask of pain and rage. Coulter intercepted him and knocked him out.
Marena was at his side in an instant.
“Let’s move,” he told her.
They stepped over the men littering the floor to grab the supplies they could carry.
“Stay here,” he instructed. “I’m going to check the perimeter.”
Marena watched him slip out the back door. Agitated, she looked over again at the motionless bodies. She hurried to retrieve their supplies, glancing at her watch for the third time. When Coulter hurried in the door a minute later, she sighed with relief.
“It’s clear. I took out the other guy patrolling the back of the house. I don’t see any more, but we need to go.”
Marena picked up the bags and followed him out.
“Where’s your car? Do you have the keys on you?”
“I don’t have one.”
He stopped in his tracks. “What?”
“I don’t have a car,” Marena repeated. “I haven’t driven since—since Mom died.”
A surprised expression crossed his face.
“How’d you get here?” she inquired.
“I hired a driver.” Coulter’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “Stay here.”
He returned to the house. A few moments later, he came out holding a pair of car keys. Moving his hand from left to right, Coulter kept pushing the unlock button on the remote. Finally, when they heard a chirp, he shoved it into his pocket.
“There it is. Let’s go.”
He stopped in front of a black Chevrolet Suburban. Unlocking the doors, Coulter began loading their gear into the back seat.
“All set. Get in.”
Marena stood rooted to her spot.
“What’s the matter?”
Marena was as still as a Greek statue. Seeing the dark sports utility vehicle reminded her of her father’s old car. Then, without warning, she was transported back to the fatal night when her mother died.
“Marena?” Coulter called her name a second time. When she didn’t answer, he ran back around the car. He stepped in front of her. “What’s wrong?”
A chill ran down her spine. Fear gripped her body, causing her to tremble. In her mind, she heard the explosion that ripped through the night air. The shockwave that followed hurled her father, brother, Coulter, and her across the restaurant’s parking lot. Next came the unbearable heat and blinding light, and finally, the horrific smell. They had all escaped with minor injuries. Her mother had made it to the car first and started the engine. She died instantly when the vehicle erupted into flames.
Coulter shook her. “Rena, we’ve got to move. Now. They’ll be sending another team.”
The terrifying memory held her captive as tight as a vise grip.
She turned grief-stricken eyes to Coulter. When she spoke, her voice was shrill. “I... I can’t get in.”
Realization dawned on Coulter’s face. He wrapped his arms around her and eased her into his embrace. “It’s okay, Marena,” he whispered against her hair. “This is a car we’re borrowing, and it’s all clear.”
She shook her head. Her eyes were wide with fright. “No. I can’t. How can you be sure?”
“Stay here.”
Coulter retrieved a miniature flashlight from his pack and got down on the ground to look under the car. He swept the entire vehicle inside and out before dousing the light.
“We’re good,” he announced.
“Maybe something was overlooked?” she questioned, wringing her hands. “You could have missed something.”
“Rena, I didn’t. This is what I do, remember? There are no devices anywhere. I promise you. There are no explosives.”
She didn’t budge.
“Sweetheart, we are in more danger out here in the open. I’m going to start the car. You stay here.”
“No,” she hissed between clenched teeth. She clawed at Coulter’s arm when he started to pull away. “Don’t get in the car, Coulter—please, don’t.”
Slowly, Coulter peeled her fingers from his arm. He rubbed her shoulders rapidly with his hands.
“Marena, we have to leave, and the only way we’re going to get to safety is on foot or in that car,” he reasoned. “We can’t waste time we don’t have, so I am going to get in the car and start it, okay?”
She grabbed his shirt in her hands and shook him. “Come back.”
He tilted her face so that they could make eye contact. “I will. I promise.”
Coulter released her and headed back to the car. Marena stood, shifting her weight from foot to foot with her arms wrapped protectively around her waist. Her gaze riveted to his every movement. She stopped breathing when he slid into the seat and shut the door behind him. After the engine started without incident, she allowed the breath to escape her lungs with a whoosh.
Leaving the car running, Coulter returned to open the passenger door. “Time to go.”
She nodded and hesitantly got in.
He shut her door and then hurried around to the driver’s side. Once behind the wheel, Coulter fastened his seat belt and pulled off.
There was silence in the car for a while. Eventually, he glanced over. “How are you feeling?”
“Better.”
Coulter returned his gaze to the road. “You wanna talk about it?”
“I’m sorry I freaked out. The nightmares are one thing, but this hasn’t happened since the accident.”
“Hey,” he said quickly. “Don’t ever apologize for your feelings, Rena. Your fears are completely warranted.”
Marena recalled the trauma of losing her mother. When authorities retrieved an incendiary device from her father’s mangled Suburban undercarriage, her family realized that her mother’s death was no accident. That realization only intensified their grief and her father’s rage.
In the weeks after the funeral, General Terry Dash, USA, Retired, began to change. Convinced he was the target for the explosive and that his wife had been collateral damage, he worked relentlessly to discover his wife’s killer, but to no avail.
“I’m not sure why the memories came flooding back right now.”
“We were fighting for our lives a few minutes ago. Maybe that triggered the memory. Your loss changed your family forever.”
She stared at him. “We weren’t the only ones altered by my mom’s murder.”
Coulter let out a harsh sigh. “Marena—”
Before he could continue, his cell phone rang. He took it from his pocket and answered.
Marena turned her attention to the window and listened as Coulter spoke in hushed tones. It gave her the time she needed to compose herself.
“That was my contact,” he said after hanging up. “He’s come through for us.”
“How?”
“In addition to warning me about Brinkley’s men earlier, he just told me who was in charge of Project Silent Night.”
She perked up. “Really? That’s a good start. Now we just need to get a phone number.”
“You have it already,” Coulter replied. “Rena, it was Cutty.”
Marena stared at him. “Frank?”
“Yes. He headed up the project after you left. If we get to him, we can get him to help you create an antidote.”
“Frank? No.” She placed a hand over her mouth. “I can’t believe he could have a part in this nightmare.”
“I agree, but we need him on our side and cooperating.”
“I’m sure if we can talk to him, we can get everything I need to engineer it.”
“I don’t know about that,” Coulter warned. “My source told me Frank hasn’t been seen or heard from in about six weeks. He was supposed to have taken a few weeks off and then reported back to the lab. He never showed up. Right now, he’s MIA.”
Marena crossed her arms and bit her thumbnail while contemplating their next move. “We’ve got to find him—and fast.”
“I’ve got some men on it, but first things first—we need to find a place to lie low. Preferably not in the immediate area.”
She pondered the question for a moment. Finally, she snapped her fingers. “I know a place. It’s remote. Stay on this street. Turn right on Cedar in about half a mile. We’re going to take Route 70 for about twelve miles.”
Coulter focused his attention on the road. “Good. Do you have any cash?”
Marena blinked. “About fifty dollars on me. Why?”
“We’ll use the money I have. We shouldn’t use any of your credit cards more than once. They’ll be monitoring your transactions, so we don’t need a paper trail highlighting our trip.”
“They who? The police?”
“No.”
“Why not? There are several men in my living room. Someone must’ve heard the gunshots and called the police. My house probably looks like a shooting gallery.”
“No men will be there.”
“How can you say that? What if some of them were dead?”
“The third guy was only wounded.”
“I’m telling you, reporters and news trucks are probably swarming my house by now. My neighbors are beyond nosy, so I’m sure it’s been videotaped already and gone viral.”
“Trust me, Brinkley can’t afford to have his men exposed. The house will be empty, and the media won’t hear a word about what happened.”
“How can you be so sure it’s Brinkley? Don’t they think you’re dead?”
“I didn’t kill the men that took me. I just knocked them out. My guess is they reported back, and now he knows I’m onto him. He may have guessed that you’re helping me.” His expression was pensive. “I’m sorry, Rena. That’s not what I wanted.”
“There’s no need to apologize, Coulter. We’re in the thick of it now and have to make the best of it.”
“Still, my job is to protect you, not bring firefights to your doorstep.”
Marena turned to say something to him but stopped. She touched his arm. Her eyes widened in fear. “Coulter,” she said loudly, her hand flying to her mouth in shock.
He turned and glanced her way. His puzzled expression met her horrified one.
“What?”
“What do you mean what? Stop the car. You’ve been shot!”