Read Blind Run Online

Authors: Patricia Lewin

Tags: #Assassins, #Conspiracies, #Children - Crimes Against, #Government Investigators, #Crimes Against, #Fiction, #Suspense Fiction, #Fugitives From Justice, #Thrillers, #Suspense, #General, #Children, #New Mexico

Blind Run (8 page)

BOOK: Blind Run
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“We have to get out of here,” he said.

“No, wait.” She tried to break free. “Let me go—”

He tightened his hold on her arm. “There’s nothing you can do for them.”

“No, I—”

“They’re dead, Sydney.” His voice was cold, hard. A stranger’s voice. “Come on, or we’ll be next.”

Ethan urged her toward the kitchen and the back door.

In shock, she let him lead her into the stairwell. “How did that man—we’re twelve floors up.”

“Climbing gear,” Ethan answered without slowing. “He either rappelled down from the roof or another balcony.”

“But . . .” They’d descended several flights, and suddenly she noticed the blood. “You’ve been hit.” She tried to stop their headlong flight and get a look at Ethan’s arm.

“It’s nothing.” He kept her moving.

“You could be seriously hurt.”

“Later.” They’d almost reached the bottom, where Danny and Callie waited. “In the truck,” Ethan commanded.

The boy pushed through the door, setting off alarms that would soon bring more of the city’s finest.

Ethan kept going, hurrying her through the door and across the parking lot as the sky began to lighten. The children scrambled into an old truck, and then she was sliding in as well, with Ethan pushing in beside her and starting the engine. As he put the vehicle in gear and screeched away from the curb, she heard the sirens in the distance and wondered when she was going to awake.

CHAPTER SEVEN

ETHAN DROVE
with his left hand, his right gripping the Glock in his lap. Sydney sat wedged against him, her tension palpable and expectant, while the kids huddled together between her and the passenger door, their fear seeping into the silence.

What the hell had he done?

By barging into Sydney’s condo with no other plan than to get her out, he’d nearly gotten her killed and himself shot in the process. And with his adrenaline levels returning to something resembling normal, he was only too aware of the ragged hole in his arm. The bullet had ripped through the outer portion of his right bicep, searing his flesh like a white-hot flame. Warm blood soaked his sleeve and plastered the wet fabric to his skin. Already, the limb had stiffened. Before he lost any more mobility, he needed to get Sydney and the kids to safety.

Damn.
He wished it were later. In an hour the Dallas roads would be choked with early morning traffic, making it easier to blend in and disappear. As it was now, the few vehicles on the streets didn’t provide much cover.

He checked the rearview mirror, noted the cars behind them, then turned his attention to his three passengers. “Is everyone all right?”

“I’m okay,” Callie said.

“Danny?”

“Just great.”

Ethan bit back his annoyance at the boy’s attitude. After all, he couldn’t blame the kid for being angry. Danny was fiercely protective of his younger sister, and Ethan had put both kids in danger by bringing them to Dallas.

“What about you, Sydney?” He glanced at the woman beside him, not daring to let his eyes linger more than a second or two. When she didn’t answer, he risked another glimpse.

She met his gaze briefly, then frowned at his arm, avoiding his eyes as studiously as he had hers. “You should be in a hospital.”

He focused on the road, annoyed that he’d allowed himself to be distracted by her for even a moment. It could get them both killed. “It’s not that bad.”

“You’ve been shot.” She enunciated each word, as if telling him something he didn’t know. “And you’re bleeding.”

“There’s a medicine kit,” Callie said, scooting forward to open the backpack at their feet and pull out a white, tin container with a bold red cross on the lid.

“It’s just a scratch,” Ethan said as Sydney dug through the limited medical supplies. “We have more important things to worry about.” He scanned the street signs, watching for the highway access. It had been years since he’d been in Dallas, and things had changed. “We’ve got to get out of the city.”

“It’s a bullet wound, Ethan, not a scratch.” Sydney found and ripped open a package of sterile pads. “Callie, tear off about a foot of that gauze and cut it into strips.”

“Let it go,” he said. They didn’t have time for this. “You can take care of it later.”

She peeled the fabric from his arm, ripping his sleeve in one quick motion from elbow to shoulder. Then she pressed the pad to his torn flesh, and pain bolted up his arm.

“Jesus, Sydney . . .” He sucked in a breath, wondering if she’d turned into a closet sadist. “Take it easy.”

“As usual, you’re not listening to me,” she said. “There won’t be a later, not for me. Callie, give me one of those gauze strips.”

The girl obeyed, and Sydney secured the makeshift dressing, her quick, competent hands tying first one then the other piece of gauze to his throbbing arm. “That will slow the bleeding until you get to a hospital.” She placed the supplies back in the box and shut the lid with a snap. “Luckily, the bullet passed through, but you still need to have it cleaned and properly dressed. I’d suggest a hospital, but that’s entirely up to you. Now, stop and let me out.”

Ethan snorted in disbelief. She still didn’t get it; her life was in danger. No way he’d just drop her off somewhere to take her chances. “Forget it.”

“You can’t keep me in this truck, Ethan.”

“Look, I know you’re upset—”

“Upset? We’ve been shot at, we saw two policemen—” She stopped speaking abruptly. Then, with what seemed a great deal of effort, she lowered her voice. “This is insane.”

Yeah, he thought, insane was as good a word as any. “Look. I’ll explain what I can later. Just let me get the three of you out of the—”

“Who was that man?”

Ethan glanced in the rearview mirror again and didn’t like what he saw. “Does it matter?”

“Of course it matters,” she snapped. “You say I’m in danger, someone shot at us. I want to know who.”

She’d always had a hell of a temper beneath that moneyed veneer of hers. Usually she kept it tightly reined. That is, until faced with some injustice. Then she’d become a tigress: fierce, fearless, and breathtaking. He’d once loved that about her, admiring the clarity anger brought to her thoughts and the sharpness it brought to her tongue. Right now, however, he’d have preferred someone a bit easier to handle.

“I’m not sure,” he said. It wasn’t exactly a lie.

“Take a guess.”

Okay, so he could do more than guess, he knew who’d shot at them. Marco Ramirez. The only surprises were his timing and that he’d missed. He was one of the best, but with three guns in the room—Ethan’s and the two cops’—the chances of even Ramirez succeeding without getting shot had been slim. So why had he picked that moment to carry out his threat against Sydney?

“Ethan?”

Before he could answer her, something else caught his eye. It seemed they had another, more pressing problem. Maybe two. “Not now. We’re being followed.”

“What?”

“Don’t,” he said, as both Sydney and Callie turned to look out the back window. “Danny, check your side mirror. Can you see the Mercedes? It’s dark gray, about five or six cars back.”

Danny straightened. “Yeah, I see it.”

“Watch him, and let me know if he follows us.”

“What are you going to do?” Sydney said, more anxious now than angry.

“Nothing much.” Ethan took the next side street, keeping his speed steady and unhurried. “We’re just taking a little detour to see whether this joker is really on our tail, or if I’m imagining things. Danny?”

“He pulled into a parking lot.”

“Give him a block or two to pick us up again. If I’m right, he’ll flow with the traffic while keeping his distance.”

The car Ethan had passed in the desert before finding Anna’s body had been a high-priced import, just like the one he suspected of following them now. Ramirez, probably. In both cases. He would want to keep Sydney in his sights, and the Mercedes fit his self-image. But what about the second car, a sedan, flitting at the traffic edges a block or so back? Was the vehicle following them, or was Ethan letting his paranoia get the best of him?

The Mercedes reappeared, closer than before, surprising him with the driver’s incompetence. Or boldness.

On the one hand, Ramirez had never been worth jack at running a tail. A high-powered rifle from a rooftop or a lethal encounter in a crowd were more to his liking. Which was probably how Anna had managed to evade him for so long. His methods weren’t meant for a target in hiding—especially one as good at it as Anna Kelsey. But even Ramirez could do a better job of keeping out of sight than the driver of the Mercedes.

Ethan looked for the second car, but this time saw nothing unusual. Except Ramirez, making himself plainly visible. Could the assassin be a decoy, a distraction for other, less obvious pursuers? Ethan considered it but quickly dismissed the idea. He’d known Marco Ramirez since their earliest days with the Agency, and although a lot could change in three years, not this. Ramirez worked alone.

So what was he up to?

Ethan watched the Mercedes as a long-suppressed rage stirred within him. After Nicky’s death, Ethan had bowed to Ramirez’s threats. He’d left Sydney and the Agency to hole up in the desert, where each new day had reeked of his failures.

“Goddamn you, Ramirez.” All Ethan needed, all he’d ever needed, was one shot at the bastard. “It’s time we finish this.”

“Ethan?”

Sydney’s unspoken question momentarily cut through his anger, but he shoved his hesitation aside. He’d waited too long for this chance, he wasn’t about to lose it now. He would make Ramirez pay for Nicky’s death.

“Hold on,” he said and made several quick turns, heading away from the downtown area. The awakening city fell away to the trendy Deep Ellum district, where residents still slept behind their shuttered windows. At the end of a quiet block, Ethan spun the truck around, bringing them full circle, and stopped.

“Okay,” he said. “Come and get me.”

“Ethan, stop this. Please.”

He ignored Sydney’s fear, shut his heart to the panic in her voice. She didn’t understand, couldn’t, without knowing the truth about their son’s death. It hadn’t been an accident. Nicky had been murdered, and the man responsible now had his sights set on Sydney.

The Mercedes materialized, a dusky wraith in the early morning light. It stopped a block away, spotting them and gauging its next move. Then it started up again, creeping toward them.

“That’s right, you coward.” Ethan checked the Glock’s clip and ignored the flash of fire in his arm. “Just a little closer, and we’ll settle this once and for all.”

As the Mercedes approached, the shapeless driver emerged from the shadows and took on Ramirez’s familiar features. Ethan had expected no one else, but the shock of it, of seeing the face of his son’s killer after all this time, froze him in place. The vehicle stopped, and for a moment they stared at each other, the distance between them collapsing in a crush of bitter memories. Ethan saw the hatred in Ramirez’s eyes, the madness, and he expected his own face screamed the same.

They would end this. Now.

Ethan grabbed the door handle, but Sydney’s fingers bit into his forearm, stopping him, begging him without words to stay. Her silent plea shredded his resolve. The last time she’d needed him, he’d walked away. Could he do that again and live with himself?

“Let’s get out of here,” she said. “Please.”

But could he turn his back on Ramirez? Just take Sydney and these kids and run, and never look back?

A flicker of movement caught his eye. A blue sedan rounded the far corner, slowed, then picked up speed as it switched lanes to come straight at them.

A trap.
The son of a bitch set us up.

“Hang on.” Ethan punched the accelerator and twisted the steering wheel hard to the right. Tires squealed and bumped as they struck the curb. The truck careened onto the sidewalk, colliding with a trash can and sideswiping the metal collar around a sapling.

“Get down.” He shoved Sydney’s head below the dashboard, half expecting a bullet to shatter his window. “All of you.”

The kids ducked, and Ethan laid on the horn as a warning to pedestrians. Glass-fronted shops whipped by on his right and parked cars on his left. Behind them, Ramirez took off in the opposite direction. But the sedan slammed into reverse, matching Ethan’s speed and blocking his escape back to the road, its tinted windows frustrating his attempt to identify the driver.

Near the end of the block, Ethan saw his chance and aimed for a gap between two parked cars. The truck hurtled off the curb. The sedan screeched to a stop, but not quick enough to avoid the scream of metal and burst of sparks as Ethan skimmed its bumper. With a clear road ahead, Ethan used the sedan’s turnaround time to put some distance between them.

He sped back toward downtown, taking a circuitous route and keeping one eye on the rearview mirror. The trick was to lose the tail without picking up a cop. Meanwhile his passengers sat up, bracing themselves against the truck’s erratic maneuvers.

“Are they still after us?” Callie asked.

Ethan glanced at her, then her brother and Sydney. All three were noticeably shaken but okay. “We’ll lose them.”

They ended up back on Commerce, a main thoroughfare through the center of Dallas. He hadn’t seen the sedan for several blocks, but he had no illusions about having lost it. Not yet anyway. And where the hell was Ramirez? Had he set them up and taken off? Or had he been surprised by the sedan as well?

“Danny, watch for the Mercedes while I ditch the other car.”

The early morning rush hour was at full force now, which gave Ethan the advantage. He threaded the truck across three lanes of bumper-to-bumper traffic, waiting for the right moment. A few blocks back, the sedan entered the fray and Ethan took his shot. Just as the next light turned red, he made a quick left in front of a line of oncoming vehicles. Horns blared and brakes shrieked, but Ethan skidded around their outrage and headed down a secondary road, the sedan stuck in gridlock behind them.

No one said a word, though Sydney had braced an arm across the front of both kids, holding them against the seat. Ethan expected the three of them were too stunned or frightened to do more. He couldn’t help that now.

He continued to snake his way through Dallas as even the side streets filled with commuters. Unless Ramirez reappeared, they had a clear shot to the highway, but Ethan wasn’t about to let down his guard. He’d misjudged the assassin once today and wasn’t going to make the same mistake again. “See anything, Danny?”

The boy took a moment to answer, his voice shaky. “No, I think we lost them.”

“Me, too.”

“That’s a good thing,” said Sydney. “Right?”

“I’ll feel better when we’ve put some miles between us and Dallas.” Not to mention knowing what the hell was going on. “What’s the quickest way to the highway?”

She hesitated, then gave him directions that put them on the entrance ramp to U.S. 75, heading north.

For several miles the silence continued. Then Sydney spoke up. “Ethan, we need to go to the police.”

“They can’t help us.” Ethan released the Glock and flexed his fingers. “You saw what happened at your place.”

“But they were taken by surprise. If we warn them—”

“It won’t matter. The man driving that Mercedes was on your balcony this morning.” Ethan hesitated, wondering just how much to tell her. “His name is Marco Ramirez, and the authorities can’t touch him.”

“But why?”

“He’s an assassin, Sydney, government trained and owned. Even if the cops manage to arrest him, which is unlikely, they won’t hold him.”

BOOK: Blind Run
11.44Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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