Audrey reached for the wallet in her trench coat and counted out twenties. “Five Andrews.” She reached over the seat and swung the hat onto her head, stuffing her thick hair up in the roominess. The dark glasses finished the look.
Darian frowned. “You look like a 1950s movie star trying to remain not-so-anonymous.”
Audrey shrugged and tugged the brim of the hat down farther. So long as she remained difficult to identify, she didn’t give a fig how she looked.
Darian whistled, glancing out his window. “You’ve obviously done this before.”
No. But she had a brain, and she’d keep her gaze down to avoid any cameras from businesses or ATM machines they passed. Too bad she didn’t have any real training. In boarding school, she’d studied English, and in college, she’d studied education, hoping to teach at preschool or the kindergarten level. Somewhere with young kids. Then she’d fallen in love with Nate, had been blown up, and now worked in politics.
Life didn’t make any sense.
Finally, the cab rolled to a stop outside a bar in Georgetown. Audrey released Darian and stepped into the rain, her boots splashing the wet sidewalk. Milly’s Bar sat proudly in the center of a long block of businesses ranging from a scarf store to a specialty pet store. Without glancing at the street, Audrey steeled her shoulders and strode toward the bar doorway, careful not to limp.
Darian’s voice echoed as he told the cabbie to keep the tip, and his hand slipped along her elbow. “We’ll go toward the back where we can watch the door,” Darian whispered, opening the door and escorting her between tables and along a bar lined with bright red stools.
The guy had seen too many James Bond movies.
Even so, adrenaline flooded Audrey’s system, making it hard to breathe. Danger had dropped into her world and taken hold. Heck. She’d sent the invitation, now, hadn’t she?
“Hey, Darian,” a fiftysomething woman with long pink hair called cheerfully from behind the bar.
“Hi, Milly. Heading to the back—meeting,” Darian yelled back, waving at several folks throughout.
They ended up at a round table set against a wall decorated with football paraphernalia. A picture of Darian in his college uniform proudly held center stage. Darian scooted a chair around so both he and Audrey faced the door.
Milly sauntered up, a wide grin on her face. “Good to see you again. Whatcha all want?”
Darian’s gaze remained on the closed door. “The usual for me, and a—”
“Gin and tonic.” Audrey cut him off before he ordered her a Shiraz. Her disguise wouldn’t mean much if she gave herself away through habit. “My favorite.” For good measure, she added a slight French accent to her tone. Might as well try to match the hat and glasses.
Darian’s gaze swung to her, and his mouth dropped open.
“No prob.” Milly turned around on a sparkly pink boot and glided back toward the bar.
“Who are you?” Darian hooked Audrey’s elbow and leaned close.
Audrey pushed the glasses higher up on her nose. “You’re the one acting so weird. I’m trying to survive here.” Without any training or experience. The French accent was probably stupid.
“You’re no ordinary operations director.” Darian frowned, wiping rain off his forehead. “How much are you involved in this group?”
“Which group?” These days, so many groups surrounded her, it was amazing she didn’t get them confused.
“I don’t know who to trust.” Darian shuddered.
With a hop in her step, Milly returned and deposited a glass of gin and tonic in front of Audrey and what looked like a Greyhound in front of Darian. “Here you go, kids.” She smiled, pressing a beefy hand on an ample hip. “It’s so nice to see you out on a date, Darian.”
Darian nodded weakly. “Thanks, Milly. Genevieve here is a sweetheart.”
Audrey bit back a smile. He’d even gone for a French name. “I like your bar,” she said, trying to lower her voice and add the accent.
“Thanks. You’re not from around here, huh?” Curiosity quirked Milly’s lips.
“How did you know?” Audrey asked. The accent didn’t even sound authentic to her.
“Oh, I meet a lot of people. You a model?” Milly asked.
“Um, no.” Not unless she lost twenty pounds and learned how to sashay without a limp. “But you’re very kind.”
Milly scratched her nose. “Okey dokey. You kids give a holler if you need anything else.” She hurried over to help a boisterous group of men all wearing Armani.
Audrey kept her fingers off the glass. “Genevieve?”
“I don’t know. Sounded French.” Darian took a large gulp of his drink. Then another.
Audrey leaned toward him. “Now talk.” How much danger had Darian discovered?
“Okay.” He swallowed and set down his drink, his hand visibly trembling. “I stayed for a meeting with the senator after you left and—” He coughed and paled as the outside door opened. “Oh no. They found us.”
Audrey swirled her head around. Three men, all in black, all staring intently at her. Her brain fuzzed, and the world narrowed in pinpoint sharpness. She scooted her chair and stood. “The back way. Let’s go.”
Darian stood and instantly cried out, hitting the wall. Blood spurted from his shoulder.
Audrey turned to see a silver gun held low in the first man’s hand. They were moving fast.
A woman at the bar screamed, and everyone in the place seemed to drop to the floor at once.
She grabbed Darian. “Let’s go.”
“No.” He shoved her toward the back, reaching for the table with one hand. “Run. Run now.”
“Come with me.” She tried to tug him.
“No time.” He shoved her harder, and she slammed into the far wall. Her leg bellowed.
Milly screamed and disappeared behind the wide bar. Everyone turned toward the three men, glasses and drinks flying.
Crap. Audrey’s heart kicked into a fast gear, and she gasped for air.
“Run!” Darian yelled, charging the table into the oncoming men.
Left with no choice, Audrey turned.
And ran.
Chapter 13
Audrey hurtled through the doorway into an empty storage area, pushed through another door, and ran as fast as her cramping leg allowed for a back door. Rain slashed into her as she stumbled outside to a narrow alley. The stench of wet garbage assailed her, and she sucked in air. The smattering of more gunfire pattered behind her. Bile rose in her throat, and she shoved the acidic taste down.
Two long brick buildings extended for almost a block on either side of the alley.
She’d never be able to outrun those men.
Glancing frantically for a weapon, she grappled for a rusty tire iron near the steps. The metal scraped her palm, but the heaviness felt good. She could brain somebody with it if necessary.
Limping down the chipped stairs, she started to run. Or rather, jog with a hitch.
She reached the next doorway and tried to open it. Locked.
Her fists ached as she pounded, but nobody came to her rescue.
Two doorways down, a teenager with bright purple hair hefted a garbage bag out of a door. Audrey called out and ran toward the girl. The girl stepped back, her fingers wrapping around the doorway.
“Men with guns,” Audrey yelled, reaching the girl and pushing her back inside.
A shout echoed from the back door of the bar. The men were outside.
Audrey pulled the door shut and turned toward the terrified girl. “Lock it.” Turning, Audrey ran through a series of scarves and into a store as a pounding echoed on the doorway. She had barely enough time to get outside and find a hiding place before these men could run the entire alley and end up out front.
Her leg hitched, and she went flying, hitting the smooth wood floor with enough force to decompress her lungs.
A shopper with three scarves in his hands gasped and tossed the silk patterns onto a table. He leaned do
wn to help her up. “Are you all right?” Quickly releasing her, he backed away from her sopping wet clothes.
“Yes,” Audrey gasped, wiping rain off her face, regaining her breath. Her ribs protested with a sharp pain. “Thanks.” She turned and hustled toward the outside door, running into the now pelting rain. A quick survey of the street showed no taxis.
The men in black hadn’t made it around the block yet. They’d expect her to run and hide in another business. So she shot into the street, dodging cars and ignoring angry honks. Reaching the other side, she ran into a coffee shop, turning frantically to view the street. The men in black had seen her come in. They stopped traffic as they chased her.
Crying out, she dodged through tables and behind the counter.
“Hey, lady—” a kid with a goatee yelled out.
She ignored him and shoved herself into the kitchen, knocking down a busboy. Coffee grounds sprayed, covering her front. “Sorry,” she yelled, trying to run toward the back door. A table edge caught her hip, and she stumbled. She hurt, but she refused to stop. Opening the door with one hand, she bulldozed outside, scanning yet another alley. A shout echoed from the closest side. This row of buildings wasn’t nearly as long as the one she’d just fled from.
The door locked behind her.
Pounding footsteps echoed through the rain.
Clutching the tire iron, she limped to the other side of the alley and ducked down behind a wide garbage receptacle. No more running. Her leg ached, and even her ankle trembled. Time to fight.
She held no illusions she could take all three men. But if she managed to knock one out, his gun would be free. From the age of ten, she’d learned how to shoot. Unfortunately, working in a Senate building and having to go through security daily meant she couldn’t carry regularly. She’d give anything for her Lady Smith & Wesson right now. Anything.
“Where the fuck did she go?” a deep voice hissed as boot steps came closer.
“Dunno. Who is she?” a voice with a thick Russian accent muttered.
Good. They didn’t know who she was. What did that mean? The wet brick cut into her back while she huddled, her leg crying, her fingers tightening around the crowbar.
“Who cares?” the first voice shot back. “If Hannah had time to tell her anything, she has to go, too.”
Too? Had they killed Darian? Fear stuttered up her spine, shaking her shoulders. She braced herself to attack.
Movement sounded, and one of the men rounded the garbage can. “There you are,” he murmured, a smile flashing a gold front tooth.
She leapt up onto her good leg and swung, hitting him squarely in the gut. He doubled over with a muffled oof, and she swung for his head. The iron impacted with a sickening thud. The guy flew sideways.
The next man whirled around and kicked the weapon out of her hands.
She backed up until reaching the building again.
He smiled. “You’re a feisty one. Sorry about this.” Almost in slow motion, he lifted a gun to point between her eyes. Even through the pouring rain, the silver barrel glinted.
Audrey gathered her strength to duck and attack.
A body dropped from above, landing on the gunman. They hit the concrete, sending shards flying. The gun spun around and around, landing under the huge garbage receptacle.
Nate!
He’d dropped from a fire escape three floors up. Without missing a beat, he rolled over and snapped the gunman’s neck with one smooth motion before backflipping to his feet and kicking a black gun out of the third guy’s hand.
Audrey gasped and dropped to her knees. She hadn’t even seen that guy. Reaching down, she patted the ground under the receptacle, trying to reach the gun. Rocks and glass sliced into her hand, but she kept searching, biting back a wince at the pain. Her fingers touched something smooth, and she tugged it out. Crack pipe. Bending lower, her cheek almost to the ground, she kept searching as she watched the fight.
Male grunts filled the alley as the men threw punches and kicks. The guy in black was well trained, but he didn’t have a chance with Nate. Nate punched him in the gut and followed up with a high front kick that jerked the man’s head back with an audible snap. The guy died before he hit the ground.
Nate turned and stalked over to the man half crawling away. The man Audrey had hit. Nate wrestled him up, and the guy pivoted on one knee, slashing out with a wicked-looking knife. The blade sliced across Nate’s upper chest, spraying blood.
“Damn it.” Nate twisted and slammed his closed fists together on the other guy’s wrist. The knife dropped.
Nate punched him in the jaw. Once, twice, a third time.
Swinging around, Nate finished the fight with a choke hold. “Why are you after her?”
“She was with Hannah,” the guy gasped, his legs kicking out.
“Who wanted Hannah dead, and why?” Nate hissed, his mouth at the other guy’s ear.
“Don’t know. I was hired by Frankie.” The guy pointed toward one of the dead men. Then he glanced down at the blade still resting on his chest.
Audrey cried out a warning.
The man grasped the blade and stabbed up toward Nate’s face. Nate leaned to the left, the knife whizzing by his head. He encircled the guy’s wrist, lowered his arm, and plunged the blade into his neck. The guy’s eyes opened wide in shock and pain. Then they closed.
Shoving him aside, Nate stood and strode to Audrey, grasping her arm to help her up. “Keep the hat and glasses on.” He quickly dragged her to the other end of the alley, glancing up and around. “I don’t see any cameras from businesses recording us. We’re safe.”
Audrey’s knees wobbled. The pounding rain failed to cover the stench of instant death. She’d forgotten. During the explosion that had injured her leg, she’d nearly suffocated from that scent. Not flesh, not fear, but something else. Death had its own smell… its own existence. The world fuzzed, and she started to go down.
Nate pressed her against a building, his head dropping toward hers. No emotion showed on his face, but those eyes teemed with hell fire. Fury. “Not now, Audrey.” He shook her. “Dig deep, darlin. Suck it up and move.”
She nodded, blinking against the wetness. Tears or rain? She wasn’t sure. But she moved into a fast walk, her mind spinning. Nate had killed—so easily and without a second thought. Yes, he’d been protecting her. But taking a life had to mean something, didn’t it? Her stomach lurched, and she forced herself not to throw up. Not now, anyway.
Never in her life had she seen somebody kill. Sure, she’d known that Nate was trained to kill, but knowing and seeing were different. The smell of blood and death sent her senses into panic. Somehow, she kept going.
How well had she known the man she’d loved? The idea of his being dangerous had seemed romantic to her. The reality of seeing him kill opened her eyes in a way nothing else could have. Dangerous meant deadly. Cold, purposeful, and intense.
Her ears burned at her foolishness in romanticizing his training. “I’m sorry, Nate,” she whispered while trying to keep up.
He stiffened but didn’t turn back.
They reached the end of the alley, and Nate shoved her into the back of an older Chevy Cavalier. “Get down and stay down,” he ordered, shutting the door and running to slide into the driver’s seat. A second later, he’d ignited the engine and ripped into traffic.
Audrey stayed down, hidden behind the passenger seat. “Are you all right? You were cut.”
“I’m fine. Stay down.” The car swerved.
“Where did you get the car?” Her lips quivered as she began to shiver.
“Stole it. I followed you from work, to the bar, to the alley.” He hit the steering wheel. “Damn it, Audrey. What were you thinking?”
She sniffed and wiped tears from her eyes. “I trusted Darian. He had something to tell me.”
“Did he? Please tell me he told you whatever got him killed.” Sarcasm filled Nate’s voice.
“Screw you.” Audrey began to sit up.
/>
“Get down.” Nate leaned over and pressed her head down. For the first time, raw emotion darkened his voice. “There are cameras watching sidewalks everywhere. Just hold on.”
She sniffed again and wiped her nose. “What’s the plan?”
“Hold tight for a while—we have a bit of a drive. I’m going to drop you off at a store entrance to the mall. You go inside, find a bathroom, and ditch the hat, glasses, and coat. Buy yourself a new coat with a scarf to cover your head. Take a different exit, find a taxi, and get home.” He paused. “Use cash only.”
She gulped. How had her life become a suspense movie?
Nate handed over a bunch of twenty-dollar bills. “Here’s money—don’t use anything bigger than a twenty.”
She took the cash and shoved it into her wallet. “When can I sit up?”
“Be patient.” He glanced back. “Are you all right?”
“Fine.” Her bad leg felt like somebody had beat it with a bat. “What are you doing after you drop me off?”
He turned back toward the road and switched lanes. “I’ll ditch the car and meet you back at your place. Leave your bedroom window unlocked because I’ll need to time my entry when the commander’s men aren’t looking.”
“One guy started running toward me when Darian shoved me into a taxi.”
“One of the guys in black?” Nate asked.
“No.” She coughed, once again wanting to throw up. “Do you think those were the commander’s men?” Maybe Darian’s hackers had discovered something bad about the commander. If so, who was the guy running in the street?
Nate remained quiet for a moment. “I have no clue.”
Great. Could things get any worse?
* * *
Nate waited until the man guarding the back alley to Audrey’s apartment rotated position before climbing up the fire escape to her downstairs neighbor’s apartment. What was her name?
Mrs. Abernathy. Yeah, that was it. He swung inside and quickly found what he needed, all but running into the shower to get rid of blood and dirt. He’d donned his boots and a pair of faded jeans from his bag in case he needed to move quickly.
Finally, he sat at Mrs. Abernathy’s cheery kitchen table, stitching up the wound across his chest with thread from the woman’s sewing basket. A quick glance at the ultra-large calendar stuck to the fridge showed that the elderly lady had bridge at “Ellie’s house” that night. Hopefully she wouldn’t be home for a while yet.
Blind Faith Page 12