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Kendra blinked hard as she approached the motorcycle and touched its engine.
Still warm.
Her breaths grew hitched.
Her chest felt tight.
She couldn’t believe it. She didn’t want to believe it. So she craned her neck and checked the registration plate. And – hell – it matched. This was the exact same motorcycle that Ryan had used to make his getaway.
Nostrils flaring, Kendra took a step back, raking her fingers through her hair. She struggled to process this new revelation.
He’s here.
Kendra turned and eyed the door ahead. It led out of the garage, into the house itself. And she just stood there, swaying, agonising.
He blows up a department store and neutralises a team of operators. Then he comes back here to his parents’ home. But that doesn’t make sense. He should be doing something smart, like skipping town, gaining distance.
Kendra thought back to the GPS navigation unit that she had found in the operators’ car. About how it connected to all of this. And... she drew a blank.
The only obvious fact was that Ryan was mixed up in something bad, something god-awful, and Kendra wondered what confronting him would mean.
Can I pull the trigger? Can I afford not to?
Her hand flexed around her gun, and Kendra shook her head, her face pulled tight. She knew that dwelling on the anguish wouldn’t help. It would only colour her judgement and give her the jitters. And now, more than ever, she needed to be calm, precise, rational.
So she got her breathing under control.
She reined in her emotions and straightened.
Focus on what’s in front of you. Just on what’s in front of you. Locate, isolate and contain Ryan. Then maybe, just maybe, you’ll get some answers.
Hardening her jaw, Kendra crept to the door.
She didn’t like the situation, but at least she had one perk. If Ryan was here, it meant that all the motion detectors in the house were disabled, and she didn’t have to worry about tripping any alarms.
Taking bitter comfort in that, Kendra opened the door and stepped through.