Seconds to Sunrise

by Nico Rosso

  He put his hand on her shoulder and felt her shuddered breath. “West,” he said as calmly as he could. He took his hand away and opened the carry-on in the backseat. He found the box of ammunition.

  “West?” She sounded more like herself, aggravated not to have all the information. “Where west?”

  He ejected the magazine from his pistol. “West. To California.” The op had been fucked sideways, and he had to regroup with friendlies. “San Diego.” He reloaded two rounds into the magazine, racked one of them into the pistol and ejected the mag to fill the last spot. The gun locked back into his shoulder holster. He hid the rig under his jacket and climbed into the passenger seat.

  April followed the directions he gave. Highway signs directed them toward an on-ramp, but traffic was backed up.

  He checked behind them and scanned the sky. The helicopter circled over the school area. “What a bloody mess. A lot of parents are going to get a very frightening phone call.”

  “Oh, God...” She pulled on her seat belt, face drawn. “Do you think anyone was hurt?”

  “Only the bastard I put on the ground.” His injuries would take him out of the hunt for a while. “My bullets didn’t stray.” They hadn’t killed Hathaway, either.

  “What about his?” Her gaze flicked nervously to the rearview mirror.

  “Shouldn’t be a problem. Except for the parked cars.” He wanted to get out of the car and carry it through the traffic that clogged the on-ramp. They inched forward. “They won’t be coming right away. He’ll have to tend to his wounded mate, somewhere under the table.”

  She trembled. “But they’ll be coming eventually.”

  There was nothing he could do to stop her fear. His bullets had missed their mark. Hathaway was alive and wouldn’t quit. James still reeled from seeing the man. The hackers had hired one of the best to protect their business. From the shock in Hathaway’s eyes, James knew the killer had no idea who he was going against. But it hadn’t altered his course. The job took precedence. Hathaway had blood money to make, and it didn’t matter if his former partner was between him and the target. Rage as black as a blood clot clouded his vision. James’s past had come back to kill her. “Yes, they will.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The traffic persisted after the on-ramp, threatening to shatter April’s nerves apart. Her heart only thumped a little less rapidly than it had when she’d been running for the car with James. She’d been shot at. Witnessing the fight with James had been terrifying. His proficiency was amazing, and still he took blows. But with the gun, everything felt final. No chance to talk her way out of it or puzzle through the problem. One bullet, then death.

  After the immediate danger had passed, her head cleared enough to absorb that James knew the second man. He was a killer from the era of James’s history that haunted him. James had never forgiven himself for that part of himself. She had no idea how he’d react now that he was faced with it.

  She wanted to ask, to do whatever she could to protect him the way he had her, but the words caught in her throat. James maintained the stern exterior of a seasoned soldier in combat. It didn’t seem like she could reach through his body armor. He spun through the AM radio stations until they landed on local news.

  The first report detailed the traffic they were sitting in. The woman on the radio gave some hope for it clearing after a certain street, but April didn’t know how far up that was or how long it would take to get there.

  After the traffic came the weather, then a man spoke in clear, clipped sentences about the breaking news. The high school was under lockdown as officers cleared the area after reports of shots fired a block away. She thought about what James said about the parents. Everyone must be terrified.

  The radio announced that no injuries were reported, but ambulances were on the way as a precaution. Eyewitnesses had hazy accounts of three men and a woman involved in the conflict. “It appears that the woman fled with one man while the other two men left the scene together.”

  April looked about at the other cars on the highway and imagined that all the people were listening to the same report. Prickles of nervous awareness swept over her skin. She searched the sky, expecting to see a helicopter hovering over her and James. He, too, scanned around them. If the witnesses had seen their car and it was reported, all eyes would turn to them. There would be nowhere to go on the gridlocked highway. Her breath strained, like she was slowly being suffocated.

  The radio continued, “One of the men was wearing military clothing, but there is no word on the kinds of weapons they had.”

  Her heart pounded. Her palms sweat on the steering wheel. James had his hand on the door latch, like he was ready to bolt. Did the radio have a description of the car?

  The radio man went on. “The situation continues to evolve, and the police are asking residents to be alert and report any unusual activity. Anyone with information should call 911 immediately.”

  She let out a long breath. No word about the car. James released the latch and rubbed his hand over his forehead. They moved through the traffic sludge and he kept an eye on the helicopter action over the school.

  “One police helo, three news at higher elevations.” His situation report was strictly military. He pulled out his phone and punched through the apps. “I have to update Automatik.”

  “Is that where we’re going in California?” She imagined a high-tech hangar at the end of an unmarked airstrip.

  James typed and talked. “Part of the team. A place to lay low.”

  If they could ever get there. The highway rose to a crest about a half a mile ahead, and it was taillights all the way. “Then?”

  He clipped, “I don’t know.” The end of that conversation.

  She released the steering wheel and her fingers creaked. Rubbing her palms together dislodged the gravel that had dented into her flesh during the scrabbling run for the car.

  “Are you hurt?” James looked at her with pained, worried eyes.

  She flexed her hands, stretched her arms out a bit and wiggled her legs. “Just bruises.”

  “Good.” He checked the left sleeve of his jacket and revealed a six-inch gash in the leather. Her stomach turned with the thought of that being in his skin. The scream of the man he’d stabbed would haunt her for a long time.

  “It didn’t get you?” She reached over to check his arm.

  He pulled away and ran his fingers in the opening. “No blood.” His distance reminded her of the gloom between them this morning. But deeper. His eyes were almost lost. His face stony. He’d receded to a very private place, and it didn’t seem like she could reach him there.

  But she had to try. “Mark never told me what it was like to get shot at.”

  “He probably never wanted you to know.” James brought his brows together, pained. “I wish you didn’t know.”

  “Thanks for saving my ass.” They were still too damn close to where it had all happened. “Again.”

  “My pleasure.” His smile faded quickly. “You were in on it, too, getaway driver. Well done.”

  “I had good motivation.” She still hadn’t come down from the rush of fear. Her legs prickled with the need to run or kick.

  “But you kept your head and got us out of there like a pro.” His mood lightened, but a storm cloud continued to swirl deep in his look.

  She extended her fist to him, and he stared at it for a moment before bumping her knuckles with his. The small touch didn’t last long enough. He receded again while maintaining his activity by watching the unfolding scenario over the school. She focused on driving and took long breaths to keep from getting too nervous.

  They crested the ridge on the highway. She expected to see another hundred miles of stopped cars, but they were only an exit away from road construction and the freeing of traffic. The radio cycled t
hrough the story again, with no new details.

  She still didn’t feel safe. “I was hoping there’d be news about...them...being apprehended.”

  “Hired killers.” He filled in what she couldn’t say, mouth turned down in a scowl.

  She ventured, “That was the man you worked with?”

  He nodded and reseated his pistol in the holster. “I lived and died with him. He was the sergeant of my SAS troop.” James looked everywhere but at her. “After discharge, I went freelance with him.” That was all. He fell silent. The remote expression on his face told her there would be no more information.

  They finally reached the break in the traffic. She wanted to stand on the gas and put as much distance between them and the scene of the fight as possible, but she restrained herself and kept the car at a reasonable speed to avoid suspicion. It didn’t matter how many miles to the west they made it, though; James’s reserve was impenetrable.

  * * *

  His pistol had been reloaded. He’d updated Automatik with the latest operational developments. April was secure and in motion toward a safe place. She hadn’t been hurt. They hadn’t been identified by the authorities and weren’t being followed by either the police or the hunters. But he still hadn’t done enough. Hathaway was still out there. He’d shot at April with the intent to kill, and James hadn’t ended him for that.

  “He’ll regroup,” James explained to April as she drove. It was a way of lining up all the moving pieces in his mind. “The bloke I cut will get patched up and sidelined. There are others Hathaway can call in, and he’ll move out.” He used to be one of those perimeter men. “They might’ve been in close support already.”

  She checked the rearview mirror, but James had already scanned for an unwanted shadow. “How long will that take?”

  “We have a couple-hour head start on him.” But he seethed, knowing Hathaway was out there, picking the scenery apart with his squinting eyes. “And he doesn’t know what direction to search.”

  “But he knows we’re still looking for the hackers.” Though they had no current leads, she maintained her energy. “It might turn into a protection detail for him.”

  “It could.” The price would go up; Hathaway preferred to be hunting on the loose. “He probably doesn’t know where they are at this point. Just anonymous wired funds.” An exit approached on the desert highway, leading to what looked like the only civilization for a million miles. “Get off here. We’ll fuel and food.”

  Compared to the congestion of Phoenix, this little stretch of gas stations and drive-through restaurants was absolutely desolate. He kept expecting the iconic American desert to be hot, but the winter wind cut bitterly.

  April brought the car to a stop at a gas station and peeled her hands from the steering wheel. She was still rattled from the encounter, and could fry herself revving that high for too long.

  “I’ll take over driving,” he told her. “Get the battery out of that burner phone and trash everything. We’ll pick up a new one here.”

  He got out and set about fueling the car. April seemed a bit wobbly on her legs for a moment, but steadied herself and discreetly pulled the phone apart and threw it in the garbage.

  “Cash for the new phone?” she asked, hand outstretched.

  He gave her the money and kept watch while she entered the store. Damn it all. They’d learned each other so well and operated great together. In the field, in bed. After a rough start, the communication had flowed easily. But now it choked down to the bare necessities, and he felt his own chest constricting. He’d been an idiot to think he could escape his past with Hathaway.

  The car fueled quickly. His nerves jumped to get back on the road. It wasn’t the answer, and there was no clear next step to the mission, but at least it was movement.

  April returned with a bag from the shop, her expression neutral. “We’re too far north.” She got into the passenger seat and he joined her in the car. “They had a map on the counter. We have to jump down to Highway 8 to get to San Diego. In about thirty miles, there’s a north-south highway that’ll get us there.”

  “Good navigating.” He pulled them out of the gas station and to a drive-through for lunch. “Any strange looks? Anyone marking you?”

  “It didn’t seem like it.” She adjusted her sunglasses. He couldn’t read her. Those eyes could be looking at him and only seeing what he used to be, a cold gun for hire.

  They got their food and hit the highway again. AM radio still came in, giving them the news reports out of Phoenix. So far, April and James had remained unidentified, with none of their specifics announced for the public. The school had been cleared, all the students released to their parents safely.

  “Silvia will be worried.” April put her food down and dug through the gas station bag for the burner phone. She hadn’t set it up yet, so he pulled out his phone, keyed the code and handed it over. “Thanks.” She turned down the radio and dialed. “Silvia, it’s April. We’re fine.” The most important info first. She paused as Silvia talked, then explained, “I know how bad it sounds. It’s not what we wanted down there. We were ambushed.”

  His gut clenched. Fucking Hathaway.

  Silvia’s concerned tone came through the line. April heard her out. “We’re okay. Really. No injuries. James is...amazing. He got us out of there.”

  “You drove,” he reminded her.

  Her brief smile reminded him of how they’d been learning to communicate. But that was lost.

  “You need to be safe,” April told Silvia. “I don’t think they know we saw you, but I don’t trust anything anymore.”

  That should include James. He brought the worst of the world to her. “Can she stay somewhere else?”

  April repeated the question to Silvia, then told James, “She has a friend she can go to.”

  “Good. Have her text the address to this number.” He had to make sure the violence didn’t spread too far. “Any sign of trouble, she can call the authorities. Don’t worry about our status. She has to be safe.”

  April started to speak into the phone, then turned to him. “I... Can you just tell her?” She handed him the phone, and he went over the same information with Silvia.

  “I understand, James,” Silvia replied, voice serious. “Thanks for taking care of her.”

  “Doing my best.” He gave the phone back to April. His best barely kept them alive. He hadn’t stopped the killer who wanted her dead.

  “We’re going to a friend’s as well.” April wrapped up her call with Silvia. “I’ll check in and let you know... Absolutely... You, too, babe...” She hung up and handed his phone back.

  He secured it and stared ahead for the highway interchange marker. Nothing on the horizon.

  April resumed her lunch, then asked, “Food?”

  His sandwich was still wrapped in his lap. “No appetite right now.” He seethed with no outlet. How many people had he helped terrorize with Hathaway? People like April, with lives and friends and dreams worth chasing. Some of them, Hathaway had killed as part of the contract. That blood was on James’s hands.

  April motioned for his sandwich. “Give it to me. I’ll keep it in the bag.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “It’ll get cold.”

  “It’s fine.” Was she trying to draw him out like before? She should be cursing him for being part of her horror.

  “Cold fast food is never fine.” She waved her fingers for the sandwich.

  He pushed it into her hand and refocused on the road. “I’ve lived for weeks off cold ORPs made in muddy water.”

  “ORP?” She bundled his sandwich in the food bag and set it behind his seat.

  “Operational Ration Pack.”

  “Like an MRE.” She wrinkled her nose. “Tried those once. I don’t know how you guys do it.”


  He scoffed. “American rations are so unrefined. No tea powder sachet in sight.”

  “Delicious.” She stuck her pinky up ironically.

  “Quite.” His phone buzzed, and he checked the screen. “Silvia texted me her friend’s address.” He keyed the phone’s code and split his attention between it and the road and forwarded the text to Automatik.

  “Is she going to be okay?” April watched the side mirror, as if she could see her friend in the distance.

  “She will.” A buzz on his phone indicated a return response from Automatik. He paraphrased, “Two of our best are inbound to keep an eye on her. A former SEAL and that woman sniper I told you about.”

  “Thanks.” She turned to him, eyes blocked by her sunglasses. “Like you were watching me.”

  “Exactly.” Ben and Mary would be invisible, but ready. “She won’t know unless she has to.” He looked at the next section of the text. “No news on Hathaway or his team. No blips on the injuries at any of the hospitals.”

  She crumpled the last of her food into her bag and tossed it in the backseat. “They probably just glued him together.”

  “I’ve done that.” He tugged the collar of his T-shirt down to reveal a jagged scar under his collarbone. “Bullet creased me, and we didn’t have time for stitches.”

  She shuddered. “God.”

  “Wasn’t as bad as the shrapnel in my thigh.” He flexed the leg, glad that pain had passed. “Had to hike out quite a few klicks with a tampon stuck in the hole.”

  Her mouth hung open. “Why did you have a tampon?”

  “To plug wounds. Why else?” He pointed with his thumb to the back. “Can I get my food?”

  She retrieved it with a queasy look on her face. “Now you’re hungry?”

  “All that talk about ORPs made me thankful I don’t have to eat them anymore.” He opened the bag and dug into the food. She’d been right. As it cooled, all the flaws in flavor and texture were highlighted. But he needed the fuel.

  Yes, he wasn’t a soldier anymore. Not in the way he’d been when he served Her Majesty. The days of those rations were over. He wasn’t a merc either. He couldn’t afford hundred-dollar bottles of Irish whiskey anymore. Even if someone gifted him one, it would take him months to drink it, instead of one night.