Burbank, California, had been, by all definitions, a city brimming with life and commotion. Its importance had only grown in recent years; so many media companies already had studios or headquarters there, and many of the others in nearby cities had moved as well, either through mergers or deals to share equipment. Seeing the city streets so silent and empty, I wondered if Gray had already swept in to shut the place down.
Where the hell is everyone? It was like driving through the worst of the economically ravaged towns back east. I half expected to see an old newspaper dramatically catch the breeze and fly across the street like a tumbleweed. I felt my pulse kick up; the same shadow I’d felt behind us in Los Angeles was back and growling in my head like thunder.
“I don’t like this,” Cole said, as if sensing my thoughts. “Make your next right—”
If I hadn’t looked back into the rearview mirror to signal to Liam, I wouldn’t have seen it at all. The SUV was there one moment, and gone the next—the sound the military Humvee made as it crashed into the Ford Explorer felt like someone took a bat to the back of my skull. I jerked the wheel as the other car rolled once, glass and rubber exploding in every direction as it righted itself again, rocking hard against the sidewalk.
I slammed my foot onto the brake pedal, sending the truck into a skid. Clancy choked as his seat belt snapped tight over his chest. He tried to brace himself with his bound hands against the dashboard.
“What?” he demanded. “What the hell was that?”
But it was Cole I should have been worried about.
I was still fighting with my seat belt when his face, rigid with shock, transformed. The sound that escaped his throat was too ragged, too strangled to be a scream. It didn’t sound human at all.
He threw his door open, but didn’t run toward the military vehicle or the two soldiers who were approaching the tan SUV with their weapons drawn. Cole took one step forward as I jumped down from the truck, and, with no other warning than his right hand tightening into a fist at his side, the Humvee burst into a ball of fire.
The wave of pressure that came off the small explosion sent me stumbling back against the truck. It blew out the windows of nearby buildings and the back windshield of our pickup. The two soldiers were thrown onto the street, tackled from behind by the force of it. Cole moved toward them, unnervingly calm. His pistol was drawn out of the holster at his side, aimed with his usual precision. One shot, delivered to the face of the young soldier closest to the SUV. The other found himself hauled up, his helmet ripped away, and Cole’s fist slammed again and again into his face.
I couldn’t watch, wouldn’t—my heart was banging against my ribcage as I ran for the SUV. Shards of tinted glass from the windows crunched underfoot. The driver’s-side doors had taken the brunt of the impact, but there was movement—Liam’s wide eyes met mine through what was left of the windshield.
“Are you okay?” I called, wincing at the sound of one last gunshot piercing the air.
Liam was sitting straight up, his hands clenched in a deathlike grip on the steering wheel. His face was drained of all color, save for the red mark stamped across the left side of his face, and the rapidly purpling bridge of his swelling nose. The deflated airbags hung limp in his lap.
“Oh my God,” I gasped. “You guys—”
Chubs had already crawled into the back with Vida, and was squinting as he examined a gash across her temple. His dark skin had taken on an ashy quality.
The burning vehicle was eating up the fresh air around us, sending wave after wave of shimmering heat against my back. The roar of it consuming the metal and glass forced me to shout around the smoke I was already half-choking on.
“Okay?” I called back to them. Vida gave me a thumbs-up, swallowing hard, as if she didn’t trust herself to speak just yet. “Liam?”
My hands shook like crazy as I tried to work the handle on the front door, the enormous metal indentation popping and protesting. There was so much adrenaline running through me, it was amazing I didn’t rip the whole thing off its hinges. “Liam? Liam, can you hear me?”
He turned toward me slowly, coming out of his stupor. “I told him it would roll.”
I almost sobbed in relief as I reached through the window and kissed him. “You did.”
“I told him.”
“You did, I know you did,” I said, low and soothing as I reached in to unbuckle his seat belt. “Are you hurt? Anything feel broken?”
“Shoulder. Hurts.” He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself against the pain. “Chubs? Everyone...”
“We’re okay,” Chubs called, his voice surprisingly steady despite the congested tone it had taken on. When he turned toward us, I saw blood running down from his nostrils over his lips. “I think his shoulder is dislocated. Ruby, do you see my glasses? I lost them when the airbags inflated.”
“What happened?” Vida asked, pointing at the fire. “How did—”
“Bullet to the gas tank—lucky shot,” came Cole’s voice behind me. They were either too muddled or too terrified to really think the improbability of it through.
Cole shouldered me out of the way to get to the door’s handle himself. After a moment of hesitation, I ducked around to the passenger side, forced the stubborn door open, and knelt down. I felt along the carpet until my fingers brushed his glasses. Or what was left of them.
“Did you find them?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”