Riley (The Kendall Family #3) (23 page)

Jordan hefted her handgun. “On three?”

He was about to do it when he suddenly gave her a kiss on the lips. “For luck.”

She smiled. “I expect more once we’re out of here.”

“Done. You’re first. I want you to have the head start. You’ll make it halfway before they even start shooting.” That meant he’d be exposed the whole time, but better him than her.

He took a last look, counted off, and then Jordan sprinted over the pavement, making it three strides before the fastest guy trained a gun on her. Riley put a bullet in the other man’s forehead and followed at a slower run while the other assailants hesitated between saving themselves and firing back. Bullets ricocheted off cars and the street around him as the Marine continued. He only knew Jordan had made it when her gunfire joined his from where she stood at the corner. Two more terrorists went down and Riley made it through.

“You hit?” Jordan asked.

“No. You?”

“No.”

“Let’s go.”

They ran toward the motorcycles, all of them crotch rockets like what Riley’s brother Tristan rode. The bikers saw them coming and looked ready to put up a fight until two muzzles wised them up.

“The keys,” Riley demanded. “Now, assholes.” When they hesitated a second, he realized they might not speak English, but then the two nearest guys handed them over to the Marine.

Jordan gestured with the gun for them to move away. “Back off!”

The guys did as ordered and Riley mounted a black Ducati, putting the gun in a motorcycle tank bag between his legs and starting the engine. Jordan’s gun kept the owners from trying anything. With the bike on, he pulled his gun out and trained it on them. Jordan took the other key from him.

“You know how to ride?” Riley asked as she got on the red BMW, tucking her gun away and starting the bike. The subject hadn’t come up in all their talks.

“Does this answer your question?” she asked, taking off with a wheelie.

He smiled and came after as more bullets struck nearby.

Unfortunately, they weren’t the only ones who could steal a bike. As two cars full of terrorists squealed around the corner in pursuit, four of the terrorists commandeered the remaining bikes and took off after them. By now, two cop cars had arrived and also gave chase.

The streets of Paris erupted in chaos.

Chapter 18 – Flight of Hearts

Jordan didn’t know this area of the city that well, but staying ahead of Riley was crucial as he’d never been here before and had to follow her lead, but there was no way to tell him that. He seemed to know it anyway and kept back, his head frequently turned to look behind them as they veered around slower cars. One of the terrorists had promptly crashed, but the others seemed to have better skill, following as they careened through light traffic on a two-way street.

Gunshots sounded behind them, surprising her that they’d try that and ride. The throttle was on the right side and most people are right-handed. You either had to let off the gas to shoot or do it with the left hand. They must’ve been better than she thought, but then she heard a big crash and chanced a look. One of them had crashed into a car. She smiled. More gunfire, this time from Riley, who was right-handed but had admitted to practicing lefty, too, preceded another crash farther back. This was proving easier than expected.

Just then, a pickup truck full of terrorists hurtled into the road ahead of her, going in the same direction, the driver apparently not realizing he’d gotten there first. The passengers in the back saw and began to turn, raising rifles. Even as Jordan pulled her gun out, Riley began firing from behind her, striking two of the men. Jordan’s bullets joined his and the attackers had trouble firing back. The driver went straight, onto a bridge, and Jordan knew following was suicide, though that was where she’d intended to go. She took a ramp going down and effectively lost the truck, Riley following. Another motorcycle, two more trucks, and a growing pursuit of police cars came after.

Sirens seemed to come from all sides and she knew they had to do something crazy and unexpected. Cars were stopped at a light ahead and she scooted around them, then raced through the stoplight, narrowly dodging a Lexus as she joined the cross traffic. Riley duplicated her move.

So did the lone motorcyclist. The trucks tried too, the first one plowing into the back of a car to knock it aside and keep going, but this wasn’t a movie. The ploy didn’t work and the truck got stuck, both it and the one behind, and the police cars, all of them out of the pursuit. For a moment it was calm, the traffic moving smoothly and some of the sirens fading away. The lone remaining terrorist put his gun away and seemed to focus on catching up to them. The snipers put their guns away, too, and ratcheted up their flight.

Jordan scanned the road for a way to lose the guy, but he’d have plenty of time to see anything she did. Then she had an idea and rolled on the throttle. The roar of Riley’s bike sounded behind as he emulated her and they flew down the road at dangerous speeds, especially considering that neither wore a helmet or any leathers. Jordan saw a park ahead on one side and aggressively switched lanes, heading straight for it. She slowed on nearing, jumping the curb and getting slightly airborne as she landed on the grass and sped onward toward the park’s far side. A few joggers were out, but no kids, and those present scurried out of the way before turning to watch.

With Riley following, she pulled up behind a snack stand and dropped the bike on the walking trail there, pulling out the handgun in one motion. Riley stopped beside her as she opened fire on the terrorist, who was riding in the middle of a field with nothing to shield him, just as she’d planned. She fired two shots and the bastard went down lifelessly, the bike tumbling through the grass.

“Get on!” Riley yelled.

She tucked the gun away again and jumped up behind him, his rifle bag in the way a bit. “Wait!” She lifted it over his head and put it around her neck and behind her instead; wearing two bags herself was slightly less awkward than riding behind someone wearing one. “Go!”

With a squeal of tires, they took off even as three police cars appeared nearby. Yet another pursuit, this time with prison instead of death on the line. The cops, more skilled in pursuit, ignored the facedown terrorist on the lawn. Jordan scanned the sky and saw no helicopters, but one couldn’t be far behind. This had to end soon.

She issued directions, clinging to Riley and pointing out streets, yelling reminders about Parisian drivers, and how traffic patterns worked here. Riley rode like he’d done this before, finding roads the cops couldn’t follow on as easily, though they tried. Sometimes he lost those officers only to encounter others, and Jordan knew time was running out as reinforcements were nearing. Just after losing the cops once more, she saw a taxi driver helping a woman unload luggage from the car’s rear and pointed it out to Riley.

“There! We’ll take the taxi!”

He didn’t answer, just drove right up and onto the sidewalk. Jordan hopped off and waved her gun at the taxi driver before Riley sent the motorcycle crashing alone down a stairway to an alley. The cops wouldn’t know to look for it there. He came back as Jordan got behind the wheel, having already tossed the rifle cases inside. The irate cabbie was yelling obscenities on the sidewalk as the Marine got in, and they drove away casually, like nothing was amiss. Within seconds, they were around a corner as cop cars drove past them, sirens blaring.

“We’ve got to get out of town,” Jordan said, breathing hard.

“Not back to your place?” he asked, glancing around.

“I think the bags give us away too much. Let’s get out, regroup, and decide what to do.”

“Your call. Find a place to leave the taxi without anyone being too curious. And no cameras.”

“Right. We’ll catch another ride back in later.”

They drove for five minutes in silence as the city began to fade behind them, and soon it was gone as the suburbs swallowed them and they began to relax. No sirens were heard. For the moment, they’d escaped, but reports of a stolen taxi would start soon if they hadn’t already, and that made them a target. Time to get off the road.

“Think they have trackers in these cars?” Riley asked.

“They might. I have an idea.” Jordan pulled into a shopping center, driving around the parking lot to the rear where they wouldn’t be seen.

“Let’s hear it.”

She gestured back toward the way they’d come. “We’ll hike back to a department store there and I’ll go in and buy a duffle bag to stick the rifle bags in. The cops are looking for two people with these wigs and with two rifle cases, not two people with one bag and our actual appearance. I’ll also get some new clothes. There was a bus station back there. We’ll catch that back in.”

“Pretty good. Let’s do it.”

As plans go, it was largely foolproof and went off without a hitch. An hour later, they were back at her place, where all they wanted was their passports and other identifying items. They’d already packed them up just in case something like this happened, clothes already in suitcases. They weren’t inside five minutes, wearing gloves all the while, when they left again, this time for good. All the police activity was far enough away from them that they didn’t worry much, but then Riley realized something.

“We have to get the car,” he said, as they walked down the street.

“Why? It’s in a fake name and they won’t notice it for a week when it gets towed. We’ll be long gone.”

“Yeah but someone might realize it’s near the shooting scene and it was abandoned. They’ll trace it back to the rental place, and have your fake name. They may realize Thomas was tied to Yasin, but they’ll know Thomas died at Jake’s place, Jake died at my place, we flew to Barcelona, and while there’s no proof we came to Paris, a rental car from Barcelona, rented after we arrived there, was found abandoned near Yasin’s place. Thin, but enough for suspicion. We remove the car, and some of that goes away.”

“Shit. I hadn’t thought of that. What you learned about cell phone tracking actually means we’ve proven we were in Paris, but no one will be able to tell unless they have a reason to suspect us and get our records.”

“Fuck! Okay, so we definitely need to go get that car. Hopefully no one ever IDs Jake. We destroyed Thomas’ phone so they may never know he was involved with Yasin. The connections might never be realized.”

“True. We might be okay, but let’s help ourselves out a little.”

Riley put an arm around her as they walked. “We’ll catch a taxi to near the warehouse and drop this stuff off there. Then we’ll take a bus or something back toward Yasin’s, walk to the car, and just drive away. We can get our stuff from the warehouse again, then head for Barcelona.”

She nodded. “A little risky but you’re right.”

They took little with them, and certainly not guns, and soon approached the crime scene on foot. That they’d parked the car a little farther from Yasin’s place now had an added benefit, as the nearby police were concentrated blocks away and only a few officers were here, none looking especially alert. They clearly didn’t expect trouble here. Walking casually as if unaware of anything unusual afoot, Jordan and Riley mingled with pedestrians and saw the car sitting where they’d left it. Nothing blocked the way.

Riley held Jordan’s hand as if they were a couple out for a romantic stroll. To aid that appearance, he’d already bought a croissant and munched on it as they came closer. No one took notice of them and they made a point of not looking around except for checking out the contents of store fronts they passed. This allowed them to scope out police as if by accident. They reached the car without incident and got in, Jordan once again behind the wheel. She pulled out slowly and drove away from the activity, breathing a sigh of relief when they got away unscathed.

Within an hour, they were on the highway out of Paris for the final time. Neither felt entirely relaxed despite the immediate danger being over. The assassination of Yasin didn’t worry Jordan, but the death of Thomas would definitely cause questions to be asked, though why that happened in Jake’s place would point the finger at Jake. Maybe that false trail was all they’d need. The authorities here would soon discover that Jake had gone missing. Some small chance existed that the police in Comus would figure out Jake’s identity from fingerprints or facial recognition programs, if they had access to the latter. Neither Jordan nor Riley knew enough about their investigative techniques to know how likely it was that they’d check international records, having no reason to believe they’d need to.

Either way, both felt confident they couldn’t be traced beyond Barcelona without probable cause, or whatever the French equivalent was. In fact, any investigation would require international cooperation, and while that wasn’t unheard of, no one had any reason to suspect some sort of conspiracy had been going on.

Seeing Jordan yawn behind the wheel, Riley asked, “Do you want to stop for the night?”

She shook her head. “No. Let’s get out of France ASAP.”

“Why don’t we switch drivers again? You can get some sleep.”

“Okay.”

They drove through the night and arrived at the Barcelona hotel mid-morning the next day. After a call from Riley, Kris was expecting them. The meeting was brief and up in the room, where Kris was already packed to go home. The hug she gave Riley lasted a long time, but she did little more than nod at Jordan, still distrusting her, clearly. Jordan sighed but didn’t feel like dealing with the distrust now. Kris had already relayed to their siblings back home that the mission was a success and their brother was fine. Then Riley escorted her to the lobby and her waiting taxi for the airport, so Jordan decided to take a shower.

Afterward, she lay nude on the white sheets, with a warm breeze blowing in through the open windows. She felt safe for the first time in forever. Maybe since her parents were killed. No one had their hooks in her now. Riley had been invaluable for that, and she owed him more than she could pay, but that wasn’t the reason her heart began to beat harder at the thought of him returning to her here. She’d been clamping down on feelings for forever, and for the first time, it seemed okay to start letting go. She felt herself getting wet, not from dirty thoughts so much as affectionate ones. The desire to live life and be free was quickly soaring up within her.