Megan’s whole body hurt. She heard the moan that came from her own throat before she even realized she’d made a sound.
It hurt to breathe. Adrian. She looked over at him. Gun out, looking around. “What..?”
He started, then said, “Good. You’re awake.”
He didn’t look hurt, just flushed. Adrenaline pumping again. The air in the SUV was thick with the smell of singed rubber. She coughed and almost passed out from the jolting pain it caused her body. Her arm and her hip, where she’d been grazed twice for goodness sake, stung like nobody’s business. But they didn’t hurt as much as her chest. It felt like she’d been sat on by an elephant.
“They’re coming.”
She shoved at the airbag and reached for the handle.
“Hold on. We do this together. Smart.”
Megan reached around. “I need my gun.”
She had to get to Denver. To her mom, and Zimmerman. Who was back there in that truck? If it was the shooter from the restaurant, then they were going to have a bigger problem than they already had. That had been a different car. But it could be him.
He grabbed her gun from the backseat and handed it to her. She checked to make sure it was ready to fire and flicked off the safety. “How many?”
“Three.”
Outmanned and likely outgunned. This wasn’t going to end well.
She found the button and rolled her window down, ready to point her gun out and take out whoever tried to come at her.
“Megan Perkins?” The voice that called out was thickly accented in a way that made her skin crawl. She had nothing against Venezuelans, but the sound of a voice like that lived in her nightmares in a way she wasn’t ever going to escape.
What mattered was that it wasn’t the shooter from the restaurant. She wouldn’t have been able to handle someone she trusted betraying her like that—keeping her from being able to get to her mom.
“Get out of the truck, Megan,” the voice called out again. “Come with us.”
Her entire body chilled. She adjusted her grip on the gun. Tried to inject some life into her icy fingers.
“I can take the two on my side,” Adrian said. “You take the one on yours.”
Two? The second man would shoot him before he could take the guy out.
“No.” She reached for the handle.
“Megan.” He tugged on her arm, the one holding the gun.
She wasn’t going to let him get hurt. “Stay here. I’m going, you get Zimmerman.” It made her want to vomit just to say it, let alone the reality that she was going to actually do it. Don’t think about that. The alternative was worse.
Adrian would be hurt. Probably even killed.
He needed to live.
“Meg.”
She pushed the door open, then stuck her hand out so they could see she held nothing in it. No threat. Don’t hurt Adrian. Fear blinded her. She couldn’t even pray, the feeling was so all-consuming.
Adrian flung his own door open. Bang. He ducked against the onslaught of bullets from the gunmen. A split second later, he opened fire in return.
Bullets shattered the back window. She pulled her hand back in and tried to twist around in spite of the pain. Use the frame as cover, fire off a few shots of her own.
Time slowed in a way it always did when those moments between breaths meant the difference between life and death. Every pump of her heartbeat felt twice as fast, and yet slower than she thought possible. A strange dichotomy she didn’t have time to mull over.
Not right now, at least.
Megan fired off two shots. The shooter on her side ducked behind a tree, then leaned out to squeeze his trigger. He held his gun one-handed. The front lifted as it discharged.
The driver’s door window cracked, a bullet hole in the center. She ducked on reflex, even though it missed her by several inches.
If she died here, it was going to be all Adrian’s fault. She’d been about to save his life—and the lives of many others. He’d forced this situation. And now it was going to get them both killed.
More shots rang out behind her. Adrian yelped. Megan gritted her teeth, then called out, “You okay?”
She watched the tree. Waited.
Adrian didn’t reply.
Her shooter shifted a fraction, and she saw the opening she needed. Held her breath. Pushed aside the aches and pains she’d accumulated. Squeezed the trigger.
Her shot didn’t go high. Or wide.
The shooter dropped to the ground.
Megan got out and turned to see Adrian’s side. One versus one. He held his own. She ran to the shooter she’d hit and grabbed his gun. But he wasn’t going to reach for it—he was dead.
She laid the gun by the back tire and made her way around the SUV. Adrian had dropped one guy, who moaned and clutched his shoulder. The other one had his back to her, his gun aimed at Adrian.
When the injured gunman’s eyes met hers, she saw the flash of recognition. She shook her head. Not here to play, she didn’t want him alerting his friend to her presence.
But apparently, he wasn’t that smart.
The guy opened his mouth to yell to his friend. Megan didn’t want to shoot him unless he posed a threat to her life, so she stepped out from behind cover and said, “Put the gun down.”
Adrian lifted up, his own gun aimed at each of the two men in turn.
“I said, put it down.” She took measured steps as she spoke, falling back on all that FBI training ingrained in her. “You don’t wanna die. I don’t want him to die. So drop it on the ground, and put your hands up.” She’d circled all the way around the downed man and kicked his gun farther from his reach, even though he’d have had to scoot to grab it.
Adrian said, “You heard the lady. Put it down.”
The standing shooter held his gun aimed at Adrian, and didn’t move. Or say anything. She could only see the back of him, her own aim between his shoulder blades. She could shoot him, but not before he got his shot off—and Adrian was dead.
She couldn’t see the intention in his eyes. Wouldn’t be able to read the second when the situation changed, and he made his decision.
They needed to call this in. Get Hank here with agents to take these guys and question them—find out where El Cuervo was.
She took another step around the guy, so she’d at least be able to see Adrian’s—
The gunman swung his arm around and shot his friend, the downed man. Before the guy had even fallen back to the ground, Adrian opened fire on the shooter. He hit the guy in his leg.
He crumpled, crying out.
Adrian yelled, “Don’t!”
But his gun arm swung again. Adrian put another bullet in him. The shooter’s bullet cut a hole through Adrian’s pant leg a second before he slumped back to the ground. Dead.
He cried out and hopped back a step, uttering a couple of PG-rated expressions that made her want to laugh.
“You okay?”
He brushed off his leg and straightened. “I like these jeans.”
Megan said, “They look better now.” He needed a little distressed fabric in his life. It gave him character instead of him looking like a spit-polished G-Man. Which he was. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t branch out a little sometimes.
Adrian blew out a breath. “Are you okay?”
“Health-wise, yeah. But with you just forcing a gunfight?” She shook her head. “No way.”
Adrian hung up the phone. Megan had her hand on her hip. He said, “You gonna put that gun away?”
“Maybe.”
She kind of looked like she was thinking about shooting him with it. Why, he had no idea, considering he’d just saved her life—as well as kept her from being kidnapped.
“Hank is on his way.”
“Good. He can clean up and we can get out of here.” She pulled out her phone to glance at the screen. “We have two hours until my mom is going to land. I want to know where Zimmerman is before then, so I can call her and tell her it’s all good for her conference.”
Adrian stowed his own gun, then searched the dead man closest to him. Found a phone. A wallet. He looked at the driver’s license and read the name aloud. “Lives in Austin.”
“So, not Venezuelan. Or at least not right now.”
“Or it’s a fake.” Though if it was, then it was a really good fabricated ID. He did the same with the other two while Megan watched, alternately switching which hip she had a hand on and sighing. Mad, but still uncomfortable. She probably needed another pain pill.
“Something you want to say?” He didn’t look up from the last man. He could feel her stare on him like a laser aimed at the top of his head.
“You did that on purpose.”
“Saved your life?”
“That isn’t what I’m talking about, and you know it.”
He straightened. “I do?”
The sound of car engines drew his attention. Three black SUVs pulled off the highway. She said, “You forced that gunfight.” He turned back to Megan. She said, “Those guys would have left you alone.”
“And kidnapped you,” he said. “You think I was going to let that happen?”
“You should have.” She huffed again. “That was dangerous, and stupid. Now we have zero shot at figuring out where El Cuervo is. You could have followed me.” She waved at the dead men lying on the ground. “You could have left one of them alive for questioning.”
Before he could reply, Hank called out, “Both of you okay?”
Adrian didn’t take his gaze from Megan. “We aren’t hurt.” This time.
She pressed her lips together.
“Megan?” Hank said, closer now.
“I’m as fine as I was an hour ago.”
Adrian figured that meant she was still irritated because of her injuries, in pain and lashing out at him because he was there.
“At least,” she said, “until Adrian decided he wasn’t going to let the situation ride, so he started a gunfight that lost us our lead.”
Before Hank could say anything, Adrian said, “This could be completely unrelated. We’re supposed to be catching up to Zimmerman, and you think getting kidnapped will help get us more information? We know where he’s going. This little side trip would only have cost us time we don’t have.”
Megan’s face hardened, and she took a step toward him. “You think I’m going to risk my mom’s life on a whim? We know El Cuervo and the blackmailer are connected. I could have found out who it is!”
He took a step toward her. “You want to put yourself in that situation all over again? I guess last time wasn’t so bad, if you’re in such a rush to repeat it.” She looked sick, but he kept going. She wasn’t backing down, and neither would he. “It turns out you still don’t care what happens to your partner because you’re too busy doing your own thing. Again.”
He watched that cut through her like a blade. He was not about to admit that it hurt him to see it. To know he’d done that to her.
“Special Agent Walker, go make yourself useful.” Hank’s voice was hard.
Megan didn’t even blink.
Adrian wandered off mostly to clear his head. To do something physical, but also simple. His brain spun far too much to add more to what was swirling in there. She thought getting kidnapped was a good idea? That was just insane.
He’d saved both of them. But did she thank him? No, she didn’t. Megan acted like he’d put them at a disadvantage.
Maybe she liked having her life in danger. Living on the edge like she was some kind of adrenaline junkie.
He didn’t need that in his life. It wouldn’t help them end the threat of Zimmerman and the stolen weapon, or ID the blackmailer. Why did she think it would? Had she really lost so much of her FBI training that she couldn’t see the advantages in procedure and professionalism? Adrian wasn’t going to let that drag him down. Not when he’d succeeded this far by following the rule book—the FBI plays they already knew would work.
Megan was just far too much of a maverick for this to work. Any of it.
Getting mad and blaming him? No.
One of the local agents stuck his hand out and introduced himself. “You look like you had a rough day.”
Adrian shook his head, even though it was true on all counts. He shook the man’s hand. “I need to get moving, get to the airport.”
“Denver?”
Adrian nodded.
“Cromwell already alerted the Denver FBI office.” Left unspoken was the fact this agent knew his job here was clean-up of this scene. Not racing somewhere else.
The agent said, “I’ll need your gun.”
Adrian cleared it and handed it over. He’d used it to kill one of the men here, so the gun was bagged as evidence. Fine by him, he’d be cleared. The only variable was whatever Megan said, which he could not control. He had to trust that she’d tell these agents the unbiased truth.
He didn’t know what reason she’d have for saying otherwise, but he also wasn’t entirely sure he could trust her.
He’d been with her to protect her. To be the FBI’s eyes and ears, find out what she knew. See where Megan Perkins and her connection to all of this took them. It had been working, getting them to Remy—whoever that woman was, the agent looking into her hadn’t come back with anything—and the link between all the people targeted by the blackmailer so far.
Maybe she would even be able to find the name of the blackmailer, something the FBI had yet to manage. And not for lack of trying.
He glanced back and saw Megan and Hank still in low conversation. She glanced at him. He held her gaze for a second and then looked at Hank. Shook her head.
Adrian turned away. He couldn’t help with the scene here, considering he was the person who’d killed one of the men. All he could do was give his statement.
He told them what he could, and then checked his email. Learned Zimmerman hadn’t been spotted at any airport or bus station.
Had El Cuervo really escaped the restaurant only to send men to pick up Megan the minute they were away from the other agents? It could mean that the whole restaurant scene was only to draw Megan out into the public.
Adrian tapped his phone against his leg while he thought it over.
A car engine revved.
He spun around to see Megan drive away in the SUV, alone in the vehicle. He started to run after her, realized it was futile, and headed for Special Agent Cromwell.
Hank stared after the vehicle.
“She left?”
His boss said, “Wants to go after her mom and make sure she’s all right.”
“So you just let her swing alone in the wind when El Cuervo is targeting her?” Adrian couldn’t believe this. He’d seriously just let her go off alone, after telling Adrian to stick with her?
Hank’s eyebrows lifted. “You have a job to do here, Agent Walker. I suggest you get back to it.”
What on earth?
Something was off.