Next Exit, No Outlet Page 2

  Michael’s eyebrows shot into his forehead and he reached for his beer.

  “Tomorrow. What now?”

  “I’m at the hospital.” Blake lowered his voice. “The bastards tried again.”

  Michael scowled. “Stephanie?”

  “She’s banged up, but alive for now.”

  “I thought she was going to Alina’s house?” Michael said, standing up and pacing the length of his dining room with his beer in his hand. “What happened?”

  “They got to her on her way there. Drove right into her and forced her off the road. She says the driver then came over to the car and tried to stick her with a needle. She managed to get it away from him and stabbed him first. He died in the road.”

  Michael swore softly. “Now what?”

  “She wants to go to one of our FBI safe houses. I still want her to go to Viper’s, but she says it’s bringing more threat after Alina. She won’t budge.”

  “Oh, she’ll budge when Lina gets involved,” he assured him. “What about you?”

  “If we go into a safe house, I’ll go with her. If she goes to Alina’s, I don’t have a choice. Viper won’t let me anywhere near her secret lair.”

  “True enough. I can try to talk to her, but no promises on what good it will do. She’s got some strange idea that she’s responsible for anyone who comes into her world.”

  Blake snorted. “I can handle myself.”

  “Agreed, but try and convince her of that.” Michael ran a hand over his short hair and took a long drink of beer. “What about tonight? What are you two going to do?”

  “Right now we’re waiting for her to get discharged. The nurse put up a fight, then the doctor came in and did the same. They want to admit her.”

  “I thought you said she was just banged up!”

  “She is, but it’s her head that’s banged up. She’s double concussed, and they want to run tests and scans and all the doctor crap that costs thousands.”

  “She can refuse.”

  “And she did. So now we’re waiting, but of course they’re not rushing to process the paperwork.”

  “And when you finally get out of there?”

  “I’ll check us into a hotel and try to figure out what to do. We can’t move to a safe house until tomorrow. If I contact Rob now, he’ll insist she stay here and go through the tests, and I don’t think it’s safe. If they’re willing to shoot up the inside the FBI parking lot, they won’t think twice about coming into a hospital. Look what happened to John. At this point, Steph wants to take her chances with the head and get to safety, and I don’t blame her.”

  “Has she called Lina yet?”

  “No. She’s waiting until we get out of here.” Blake cleared his throat and lowered his voice again. “Any idea what’s going on there? Why are they acting so cagey with each other?”

  “I wish I knew,” Michael replied, going back to his chair and sinking into it. “Every time I ask, I get shot down. Alina claims there’s nothing wrong.”

  “That’s a crock. Stephanie says the same thing, and she can’t lie to save her life. Not that it’s any of my business, but it’s sure making this a lot more complicated than it needs to be.”

  “Well, let me know when you get into the hotel. I’ll leave early tomorrow, although I don’t see what help I can be if you’re disappearing into a Fed safe house.”

  “I’m still hoping she’ll go to Lina’s, wherever that is.”

  “Keep me posted.”

  “Will do.” Blake paused. “Hey Mike?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Be careful. My gut tells me this is just getting started up here.”

  Michael set his beer down on the table next to his laptop.

  “Yeah, mine too,” he murmured, looking at the screen on his laptop.

  He hung up and set the phone down, staring at the financial statements on the screen.

  “Mine too.”

  Chapter Two

  Stephanie stepped out of the elevator with Blake, and the smell of oil and stale urine greeted her. She wrinkled her nose in reaction and glanced at the tall man beside her. Her head was buzzing, her whole body felt like it had been battered by a heavy-weight champion, and her leg was back to being unbearable. She leaned on her cane, taking some of the weight off the leg that had suffered a gunshot wound the week before, and paused to look around the parking garage.

  “How far is the car?” she asked.

  “On the other side of the garage.” Blake looked down at her. “I’d go get it, but I’m not leaving your side. How are you holding up?”

  “I feel like I was in a car accident,” Stephanie replied dryly. “I’ll be fine.”

  He grinned. “Maybe you shouldn’t have turned down the wheelchair.”

  “I wasn’t about to be pushed out of there like an invalid. I’m perfectly capable of walking,” she said with a scowl.

  Her cane chose that precise moment to slip on the smooth tarmac, and she gasped as she lurched forward, her bad leg giving out on her. Blake grabbed her and hauled her up against his side, unable to keep a chuckle from escaping.

  “I can see that.”

  Stephanie laughed despite herself and straightened up, pushing his supporting arm away.

  “Well, under normal circumstances, anyway,” she said. “The only reason they wanted to stick me in a wheelchair was to reinforce the fact that they were pissed I was checking myself out.”

  “We probably should have waited until they did the MRI,” he said after a moment. “This is your second concussion in a week and a half, and they don’t even know about the hit you took the other night in your apartment. Your brain could be jelly for all we know.”

  She looked at him in disbelief. “Thanks for the vote of confidence!”

  He shrugged, a teasing smile on his face.

  “Hey, I’m sure you’re fine. Probably.”

  Stephanie choked back a laugh. “You’re an ass.”

  “Yeah, but you’re glad I’m here,” he said. “Who else would make you laugh after someone tried to kill you? Twice?”

  “I am glad you’re here,” Stephanie admitted, sobering. “I don’t know–”

  She broke off as the relative silence in the parking garage was shattered by a muffled pop. It was a sound they both knew well: the sound of a suppressed gunshot, followed a second later by a thud. Because of the acoustics in the enclosed parking garage, it was impossible to tell where the noise actually originated.

  Blake whipped out his Beretta and spun around, scanning the garage while moving into a protective position behind Stephanie. She shifted her weight to her good leg and reached for her Glock, her heart pounding as her eyes searched for the threat. They were about halfway across the parking level and she could see Blake’s black Challenger at the end of the row. There was no one near it.

  “Do you see anything?” Blake demanded.

  “Nothing.”

  He let out a low curse.

  “Me either. Move toward the car.”

  Stephanie began to move toward the Challenger, her eyes darting around the garage. The places an attacker could conceal themselves were numerous, and she felt the overwhelming pressure of panic start to tighten her chest. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself.

  An eerie silence fell as they moved across the pavement. They had gone about three feet when an unnatural cry echoed across the garage, terrifying in its suddenness. Stephanie looked up and her mouth dropped open as a man dressed in dark jeans and a black jacket free-fell from the level above, a gun still in his hand and his head twisted at an impossible angle. Before she had time to even gasp, the body hit the pavement behind a white service van with a sickening splat.

  “What the hell?!” Blake spun around and stared over her shoulder. “What was that?!”

  “A...man,” she stuttered, “...with a gun.”

  “Where?”

  “Behind that van. He just fell...from up there!”

  She pointed to the cement bar
rier along the level above them.

  “Like hell he just fell,” Blake muttered, putting a hand on her back and propelling her forward. “Move!”

  Stephanie grunted as pain shot up her leg and she traded her Glock for her cane, switching the gun into her non-dominant hand. She forced her legs to move as fast as her pain-ridden body would allow, fear constricting her throat and making it hard to breathe.

  God, I don’t want to die!

  She felt Blake stiffen behind her and then his hand left her back as he spun around. Stephanie started with a gasp at the deafening sound of his Beretta as he fired, his back to hers. Dropping her cane, she moved her Glock to her right hand and swung around to face the threat with him, raising her gun.

  A man had fallen to his knees, a semi-automatic dropping out of his hand as blood spread across his chest. Behind him, two more figures moved out from behind a sedan, their weapons pointed straight at them. As soon as they broke cover, pop-pop echoed dully through the parking garage and they swayed for a moment with stunned looks on their faces. Almost as one, they fell, blood pouring from holes in their foreheads.

  “What the–?!” Blake glanced at her Glock.

  “It wasn’t me!”

  Tires squealed behind them and they both swung around, their guns ready, to find a black van careening straight for them. Blake reached out and wrapped his arm around Stephanie’s waist, turning to half-push, half-throw her out of the way. Glancing behind him at the oncoming van, he threw himself against her, propelling them both behind the cover of a Honda civic.

  Stephanie had a momentary sensation of flying through the air before she slammed into the side of the car with a grunt. Blake crashed into her before they both fell to the cement. Pain ripped through her as she hit the ground, the air knocked out of her, and she lay on the tarmac, momentarily stunned. Beside her, Blake groaned and lifted his head to look at her.

  “You okay?”

  All she could manage was a nod. He rolled onto his back, his arm still around her, and she went with him. They stared at the van, watching as it slammed on the brakes and skidded to a stop a few feet away. The windowless back door slid open, revealing three large men dressed in black body armor and holding assault rifles. Blake swung up his Beretta and aimed. Before he could get a shot off, the one on the far right fell backwards into the van, a bullet hole in his forehead. The middle one jumped out and Blake squeezed the trigger, aiming for one of the few vulnerable spots on the assailant. His shot was true, and the man stumbled and fell, blood pouring from the base of his throat.

  Stephanie watched in bemusement as the last man fell back into the van at the same time the middle one took Blake’s bullet. Tilting her head back, she scanned the cement barrier on the level above their heads and was just in time to see a rifle barrel disappear from the edge. Another pop-pop brought her attention back to the van and she gasped. Two bullet holes were in the windshield.

  Blake jumped to his feet as the driver side door opened and the driver rolled out, returning fire down the aisle. He moved in front of Stephanie, protecting her with his body, but she struggled to stand, using the Honda for support. Glancing at her swiftly, he pushed her behind him again, then scowled. She was staring to their right, her face draining of what color it still had.

  Turning his head, he watched as a blonde woman with short hair advanced down the middle of the aisle toward the van. Her face was unrecognizable, her lips pressed together and her eyes intent on her quarry. Blake had seen a lot in his time, first with the Marines and then the FBI, but despite it all, he felt a chill go through him at the look of deadly promise on her face. She ejected a clip from her gun and slammed a fresh one in, never breaking stride.

  Pop-pop-pop.

  Without missing a beat, as soon as her clip was engaged, she fired through the open door, keeping the driver pinned beside the van, unable to return fire until she was upon him.

  Reaching the bullet-ridden door, she slammed it shut with one hand and delivered a kick with the full force of her leg to the figure on the other side of the van. Then she disappeared from view, concealed by the van itself. They couldn’t see her, but they could hear, and that was enough. A male scream of pain was suddenly cut short, followed by an unholy silence. When she reappeared a second later, she looked directly at Blake.

  “Get her back behind the car and against the wall!” she commanded, her voice flat and hard. “Now!”

  Blake reacted to the steel in her tone and turned to propel Stephanie toward the cement wall a few feet behind them. As he did so, a black SUV skidded around the bend from the ramp leading from the lower parking level, roaring down the aisle towards them. At the same time, a motorcycle shot down the ramp from the upper level, flying around his Challenger at the end of the row. Pressing Stephanie against the wall, Blake spun around and watched as the woman grabbed one of the assault rifles from the back of the van. She turned, took a few steps towards Blake, and tossed the rifle to him without a word.

  “Is that...?” Blake began, catching the weapon with one strong hand.

  “Viper,” Stephanie replied, her voice shaking.

  The motorcycle stopped behind the van and the rider got off, striding forward. He swung a rifle off his back in one smooth motion and joined Viper next to the van.

  “This should be the last of them,” he said, his voice carrying to Blake and Stephanie.

  “I want one of them alive.”

  The man nodded as the SUV stopped and a long barrel emerged from the passenger window.

  “Who’s the guy?” Blake demanded, blocking Stephanie’s view by moving in front of her, effectively using himself as a shield.

  “He’s with her.” She sounded resigned. “His name is Damon.”

  Damon fired through the windshield on the passenger side of the SUV while Viper strode toward the vehicle. She held her gun in both hands, and when the driver’s door opened, she raised it and fired. Her shot went through the window and into the shoulder of the emerging man. The back window slid down and Viper dove under the driver’s door as a hail of bullets flew out.

  Stephanie gasped and grabbed the back of Blake’s jacket, peering over his shoulder. He glanced at her, his face grim. She didn’t notice, intent on watching the live-action nightmare unfolding before them. Her heart was back in her throat, but this time she was terrified for the friend she had known since she was six years old.

  Damon disappeared around the passenger side of the SUV, and they heard glass breaking then more gunfire. Viper somersaulted below the back door, out of the effective range of the automatic weapon being waved from the window, and stood against the back quarter panel of the SUV. She reached over and wrenched at the door. As soon as it cracked open, she fired three rapid shots inside before jumping out of the way again as a body fell out, the rifle falling to the ground with him. She leaned against the back side of the SUV again as silence fell.

  “Clear!” Damon called from the other side.

  Viper glanced into the back of the SUV and stepped over the body on the ground, moving back to the driver’s door. The injured driver was pressing one hand against his shoulder, trying to stem the tide of blood, while his other hand was in his lap. As she moved to the open door, the hand in his lap came up holding a gun.

  He fired, but it was a split second too late. The butt of Viper’s gun had come down hard on his wrist and the shot went wide, missing her. The pistol fell to the ground with a clatter, and Viper grasped the back of his head, slamming it into the steering wheel.

  Blake grimaced at the howl of pain that echoed out of the SUV, then watched as Viper did it again, stunning the man. Gripping his shirt, she pulled him out from behind the wheel and threw him onto the ground, kicking the pistol out of reach. He shook his head as if to clear it and tried to grab her ankle to pull her off balance. Instead of falling, she pivoted on her other foot, spinning and bringing her knee down onto his chest. He grunted in pain, growing still as the air was forced out of his lungs. Pulling a long,
serrated blade from the vicinity of her ankle, Viper leaned down until her face was inches from his, pressing the tip of the blade into the side of his neck.

  Stephanie couldn’t hear what was being said, but she could see her friend’s face and that was enough. The terrifying assassin was there, and Alina was nowhere to be found. Damon rounded the back corner of the SUV and looked toward Blake and Stephanie, his face impassive. Stephanie shivered at the arctic chips that had replaced his blue eyes. These were the two assassin that were complete strangers to her.

  While they watched, he said something in a low voice to Viper. She nodded briefly and tossed him a set of keys. He turned to stride toward them, effectively blocking their view of what was happening behind him.

  “Blake Hanover?”

  Blake nodded.

  “We’ve got about three minutes to get her out of here and somewhere safe,” Damon said, nodding towards Stephanie. “Come with me.”

  Blake didn’t move.

  “Who the hell are you?” he demanded.

  Stephanie took one look at Damon’s face and moved out from behind him, putting a hand on his arm.

  “It’s ok, Blake,” she said, her voice calmer than she felt. “Let’s go.”

  “We’ll go in my car,” Blake said stubbornly.

  “Then you’ll be dead within the hour,” Damon said bluntly. “They have it tagged with a tracking device.”

  Blake stared at him speechlessly.

  “You Marines really need to learn to move and think at the same time,” Damon continued, bending down to pick up Stephanie’s discarded cane. He handed it to her. “Go!”

  Stephanie fought an insane urge to laugh and pulled on Blake’s arm to get him moving.

  “We’re not all fitting on that bike,” she said, following Damon along the cement wall, away from Viper and the last man left alive.

  “We’re taking Viper’s car,” he said shortly.

  Blake reached out and pulled her to a stop. Stephanie looked at him in surprise, then her eyes widened as he swung her up into his arms.

  “We’ll move faster without you walking,” he said briskly.