She was meticulous in her recon. She knew every vehicle for every house in an eight-block radius. She’d even memorized license plate numbers. She glanced casually over, never letting her gaze stop its progress. Quickly committing the plate to memory, she picked up her pace just a bit.
At the end of the block, she turned right instead of continuing straight ahead toward her street. She swung her arms, rotating as if working the kinks out, like she hadn’t a care in the world.
But she glanced back to see the vehicle slide from its parking space, execute a quick U-turn and then crawl down the street in the direction she’d gone.
Shea held her breath and forced herself to remain calm and not bolt. Not yet. She needed a few more feet before she’d have a few moments where she wouldn’t be spotted.
As soon as she was out of view, she put on the speed and ran through the yard and in between two houses. Everyone on the damn street had privacy fences, which made them a bitch to get over.
She flew over the top and landed in a heap on the ground on the other side. She picked herself up, fled toward the back of the lot and pulled herself over the top of the fence again.
She hoped the car turned down the street she’d taken and hadn’t headed directly toward her house. She needed just a few minutes to get home, grab the bag she always kept packed, and then she’d get the hell out.
Through it all, she kept her mind tightly shielded so that her sister wouldn’t sense her fear and agitation. The last thing she wanted was Grace to come out of hiding because she worried that Shea was in danger.
And she would. She’d do anything if she thought it would keep Shea safe. Just as Shea would do for Grace. If Shea allowed herself to get caught, Grace would be a sitting duck.
Well, f**k that.
She wasn’t going down without one hell of a fight.
By the time she reached her backyard, she was winded and sucking some pretty heavy air. Instead of going balls to the wall inside her house, she took stock of the surroundings, listened for the sound of a vehicle and then quietly crept to her back door.
The very last thing she needed was to run headlong into a bad situation.
She cracked the door open and listened intently for any sound coming from within. As she stepped inside, she immediately looked toward the front picture window, which gave her an unimpeded view of the street.
She breathed in a sigh of relief and bolted into action. She ran for her bedroom, took the already packed bag out of the closet and then went for the handgun in her nightstand drawer.
She popped the clip in, thumbed the safety and then jammed it into her shorts. Wasting not a single glance at the things she was leaving behind, she hustled to the front door.
Her car was parked as close to the house as possible, but not so close that she couldn’t execute a sharp turn and drive away without having to back out of the drive.
It sucked to have to live this way, but the alternative didn’t bear thinking about.
She shoved out of the door, ran for her car and threw her bag inside. She jammed the key into the ignition, started the engine and then roared out of the drive.
As she pulled onto the street, she glanced in her rearview mirror. Fear slid up her spine and around her neck until it had a stranglehold on her.
The sedan she’d seen on her run was pulling up the street just past her house.
It was pointless to try and play it cool. As if they hadn’t seen her. She blew the stop sign at the end of the street and hauled ass.
SHEA was somewhere in Colorado, her eyes peeled for a place to stop for the night, when she was seized by unimaginable pain. Her entire body went rigid, her vision blurred and her mouth went horribly dry. She was too exhausted from days spent on the road with little to no sleep to fight off the onslaught of her soldier’s suffering.
She barely managed to pull to the side of the road before another wave of agony bit through her flesh and burned her from the inside out.
Oh no. No.
She leaned forward, resting her forehead on the steering wheel as she battled for control. Then she reached for him, sliding into his mind and body. She hadn’t meant to leave him alone for so long. Guilt flooded her. The last days had been spent running and looking over her shoulder until she was sure she’d shaken her pursuers.
I’m here. Be strong. Please be strong. Don’t let them defeat
you.
She could feel the tears on his face. Felt the helpless wave of despair that hit her so strongly it knocked her back against the seat. She forced herself to see through his eyes and then gasped her horror, tears squeezing her own eyes.
Another man knelt in front of her soldier. He’d been removed from the tiny, dark hole they kept him in. When they hadn’t been successful in gaining what they wanted from her soldier, they’d dragged another man into the room and forced him to his knees so that he had no choice but to look at him.
Shea closed her eyes to the atrocities committed. But it was no use. She saw through her soldier’s eyes. Felt everything he felt. Knew what he knew.
Rage built. Horror. Fear. Loathing. Pain.
He wanted to kill them. For a moment he considered giving in, but he knew it wouldn’t alter the fate of the other captive. These were animals with no honor.
And then a single gunshot rang out, echoing first through the soldier’s mind and then bleeding into Shea’s consciousness. She blinked and stared glassy-eyed through the windshield as she watched the other captive fall forward to the floor, blood streaming from his head.
Grief welled, though she wasn’t sure if it was her own or her soldier’s. There was self-condemnation and guilt. He considered that the other captive was better off because he at least wasn’t suffering any longer.