Chapter 5 - The first man reached the SUV seventeen seconds after Vincent stopped moving.
Nora counted every one of them.
Not consciously.
Her mind had simply returned to the primitive arithmetic it used when terror became too large to understand.
One breath.
Two.
A boot crushed gravel outside.
Three.
Rain struck the fractured rear window.
Four.
Warm blood continued dripping from Vincent’s body onto the side of her neck.
Five.
A flashlight crossed the white spiderweb of reinforced glass.
The vehicle had come to rest at an angle against the pine tree, its front end folded inward. Steam escaped through the ruined hood and rolled across the road like fog.
Nora could see almost nothing from beneath Vincent.
His torso covered hers from shoulder to hip.
His right arm had fallen beside her face.
His fingers were open.
Motionless.
That frightened her more than the men outside.
Vincent Costa never appeared motionless.
Even when sitting, there had always been control inside him, some invisible machinery calculating distances, exits, weaknesses.
Now his hand rested in blood and shattered safety glass.
“Driver first,” the accented voice ordered.
Metal scraped.
Someone pulled at Arthur’s door.
It did not open.
The armored frame had bent during the collision.
“Shoot the lock.”
A gunshot exploded so close that Nora’s entire body jerked.
She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming.
Blood filled her mouth.
Another shot.
Then another.
Vincent did not react.
Nora pressed 2 fingers against the side of his throat.
At first she felt nothing.
Panic climbed into her chest.
Then—
There.
A pulse.
Slow.
Weak.
But present.
Nora closed her eyes for half a second.
Alive.
The rear door handle moved.
Once.
Twice.
The damaged mechanism refused to release.
A man cursed outside.
“Break the glass.”
“They said alive.”
“The woman alive. Costa doesn’t matter.”
Nora’s stomach contracted.
The men had not come simply to kill Vincent.
They had come for her.
The understanding should have paralyzed her.
Instead, something hard and surprisingly calm appeared beneath the fear.
Five years earlier, a bleeding stranger had fallen through her apartment doorway.
She had been terrified then too.
She had still moved.
Nora forced herself to examine the cabin.
Arthur hung forward against the deployed airbag.
Blood covered one side of his face.
She could not tell whether he was breathing.
Vincent’s rifle had disappeared beneath the front seat during the crash.
His handgun remained secured in the holster attached to his tactical vest.
Nora stared at it.
She had never fired a weapon.
She disliked even touching the pistol components on Vincent’s office desk.
Outside, something heavy struck the rear window.
The damaged glass bowed inward.
Another impact.
White cracks spread across the transparent armor.
Nora reached carefully across Vincent’s abdomen.
Her fingers found the retention strap on his holster.
She could not release it.
Another strike hit the window.
The glass moved nearly 1 in toward them.
“Come on,” Nora whispered.
She pulled the strap.
Nothing.
Her hands were slick with Vincent’s blood.
The man outside struck the glass again.
Nora’s panic sharpened into anger.
“Come on.”
She twisted the fastening sideways.
It released.
The pistol was heavier than she expected.
Nora dragged it free and almost dropped it against Vincent’s ribs.
His eyes opened.
She stopped breathing.
For one second, his gaze was unfocused.
Then it became instantly aware.
His left hand closed around Nora’s wrist.
She nearly screamed.
“Quiet,” Vincent breathed.
The word was barely audible.
Nora stared at him.
Blood ran from a deep wound above his ear and disappeared behind the armor at his shoulder.
“You’re hurt.”
“I noticed.”
The glass shook again.
Vincent turned his eyes toward it.
“How many?”
“At least 3. Maybe 4.”
“Arthur?”
“I don’t know.”
Vincent attempted to lift his body.
Pain crossed his face so quickly that anyone else might have missed it.
Nora did not.
He stopped.
His breathing became shallow.
“Ribs,” he whispered.
“Probably.”
“Give me the gun.”
“No.”
Vincent looked at her.
Even injured, his expression carried authority.
“Nora.”
“You can barely move.”
“The alternative is letting Grigori take you.”
“I understand the alternative.”
She tightened both hands around the pistol.
“I also understand you’re bleeding all over me.”
Something changed in Vincent’s eyes.
Not approval.
Not amusement.
Recognition.
He released her wrist.
“Safety is already off.”
Nora swallowed.
“I don’t know what that means.”
“It means do not touch the trigger until you intend to kill something.”
Her stomach turned.
Outside, the rear window finally gave way.
The inner layer remained intact, but a fist-sized section collapsed into the cabin.
A gloved hand reached through.
Vincent moved.
Despite his injuries, his left arm wrapped around Nora’s waist and pulled her sideways beneath the collapsed rear seat.
“Now,” he said.
Nora raised the pistol.
The opening in the glass contained darkness, rain, and the partial shape of a man’s face.
She fired.
The weapon detonated in her hands.
Pain struck both wrists.
Her ears immediately filled with ringing.
The face disappeared.
A scream came from outside.
Nora stared at the gun.
She had hit him.
The realization threatened to break her concentration.
Vincent’s fingers closed around the back of her neck.
“Again.”
Another figure appeared behind the ruined window.
Nora fired twice.
Both shots struck metal.
The man disappeared behind the SUV.
Return fire slammed against the vehicle.
The bullets sounded like sledgehammers.
Vincent pulled Nora completely beneath him again.
“Down.”
“I’m already under you.”
“Then become smaller.”
Despite everything, an almost hysterical sound escaped her.
It might have been a laugh.
Vincent heard it.
His mouth moved near her ear.
“Good.”
“What?”
“You’re still capable of being irritated. That means you haven’t gone into shock.”
“I hate you.”
“That is also medically useful.”
Gunfire erupted from farther down the road.
Different weapons.
Short controlled bursts.
The men outside shouted.
One fell against the SUV hard enough to shake the frame.
Nora froze.
Vincent did not.
His eyes closed for 2 seconds.
Then he said, “Ours.”
“How do you know?”
“Antonov men spray ammunition. My people are expensive enough to aim.”
The exchange lasted less than 20 seconds.
Then silence returned beneath the rain.
Nora’s ears continued ringing.
Footsteps approached.
Vincent removed the pistol from her hands before she could protest.
“Boss?”
A familiar voice.
Bennett.
Vincent struck the damaged rear door twice with the gun.
“Alive.”
Bennett cursed in relief.
Men surrounded the SUV.
Metal tools appeared through the fractured frame.
Someone used a hydraulic spreader on the rear door.
The armored steel screamed as it bent outward.
Cold rain entered the cabin.
Nora realized she was shaking violently.
Vincent’s weight shifted away from her.
The moment he attempted to sit, his face lost color.
Nora caught his arm.
“You’re not standing.”
“I am.”
“No.”
His eyes lowered to her fingers around his sleeve.
“Is this the part where my hostage becomes insubordinate?”
“You called me a guest.”
“I was lying.”
The door was torn free.
Bennett appeared through the opening.
Blood streaked one side of his face, but he seemed otherwise unharmed.
Behind him, 4 Costa soldiers controlled the road.
Two bodies lay near the ditch.
A third man crawled through wet leaves.
One of Vincent’s men walked toward him.
Nora looked away before she saw what happened next.
Bennett reached into the SUV.
“Can you move?”
Vincent answered before Nora could.
“Yes.”
He stood.
Or attempted to.
His right leg failed immediately.
Nora caught part of his weight.
Bennett caught the rest.
Vincent’s jaw tightened.
“I said I could move.”
“You’re doing a poor demonstration,” Nora said.
Bennett looked between them.
Despite the situation, something like disbelief entered his face.
No one spoke to Vincent Costa that way.
Apparently Nora had become too frightened to care.
They pulled him from the vehicle.
Rain struck Nora’s face.
The cold shocked her fully awake.
Arthur was removed from the front seat by 2 men.
He groaned.
Alive.
Nora felt an unexpected rush of relief.
Then she saw the road.
The second Costa SUV burned approximately 60 yd behind them.
Flames rose from the engine compartment.
One man lay beside it covered by a dark jacket.
Another sat against a guardrail while holding his abdomen.
Blood pushed through his fingers with every breath.
Nora moved toward him automatically.
Vincent caught her wrist.
“You’re leaving.”
“He’s bleeding.”
“Nora.”
“He has maybe 5 minutes before that becomes irreversible.”
Her old clinic voice returned.
Cold.
Practical.
Useful.
Vincent stared at the wounded man.
Then at Nora.
Rain ran across his face and mixed with his blood.
“Bennett. Give her a kit.”
Bennett opened the rear compartment of another vehicle and removed a red trauma bag.
Nora dropped beside the injured soldier.
His name, someone said, was Lucas.
He appeared barely 25.
His lips had become gray.
“Look at me,” Nora ordered.
He tried.
“Don’t sleep.”
“I’m not sleeping.”
“Yes, you are.”
She cut his clothing.
The wound entered the lower right abdomen.
No exit.
Bad.
Nora packed gauze hard against it.
Lucas screamed.
“Good,” she said.
He looked at her as though she were insane.
“Screaming means you’re breathing.”
She tightened a pressure bandage around his torso.
Behind her, Vincent gave orders with increasing weakness.
Two vehicles.
Different route.
No radio transmissions.
Destroy the crashed SUV.
Take all dead Antonov men.
Leave no identification.
Nora heard the machinery of his world reorganizing itself around disaster.
When she finished with Lucas, she stood.
Vincent was leaning against the replacement SUV.
Only slightly.
Anyone else might have mistaken the posture for casual.
Nora knew better.
“You need treatment.”
“I need distance.”
“You may have internal bleeding.”
“I have had internal bleeding before.”
“That isn’t the reassurance you think it is.”
His gaze moved to the pistol still in his hand.
Then to Nora.
“You fired 3 times.”
She looked at her hands.
They were trembling again.
“I know.”
“You hit one.”
“I know.”
“Does that bother you?”
Nora’s throat tightened.
“Yes.”
Vincent nodded.
“Good.”
She looked at him sharply.
“You’re pleased?”
“No.”
He opened the vehicle door.
“I am pleased that it bothers you. The first time it stops bothering you is when you begin becoming someone like me.”
For the first time since she met him again, there was no arrogance in his voice.
Only certainty.
Nora stared at him.
Then Vincent’s knees weakened.
She moved before anyone else.
Her shoulder struck his chest as she caught him.
His blood immediately soaked into the wool coat he had forced her to wear.
“Bennett,” Nora snapped. “Help me.”
Vincent attempted to object.
She turned on him.
“Be quiet.”
His eyes narrowed.
“You are experiencing blood loss, possible fractured ribs, probable concussion, and you protected me from a three-ton vehicle striking a tree.”
Nora pushed him into the back seat.
“For the next 20 minutes, I outrank you.”
Bennett stared at the floor.
His shoulders moved once.
Nora realized he was hiding laughter.
Vincent noticed too.
“If you laugh,” he told Bennett, “I will have you transferred to waste management.”
Bennett immediately became expressionless.
Nora climbed into the SUV after Vincent.
The door closed.
Outside, men poured accelerant across the ruined vehicle.
Nora looked through the glass as flames climbed into the rain.
Another life burned behind her.
First Patsy’s.
Now the SUV.
Everything connected to Nora seemed to end in fire.
Vincent watched her face.
“They knew the route,” she said.
“Yes.”
“They knew the gate codes.”
“Yes.”
“They knew which vehicle I was inside.”
Vincent became still.
Nora turned toward him.
Rainwater ran from her hair onto the expensive leather.
“This wasn’t simply someone at the port talking.”
“No.”
“Someone close to you gave Grigori everything.”
Vincent looked through the dark window.
The fire reflected in his eyes.
“Yes.”
Nora felt colder than she had outside.
Because the fortress had failed.
The road had failed.
May you like
The convoy had failed.
And somewhere inside Vincent Costa’s organization, a person who knew exactly where Nora slept was still breathing.
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