Kynan is efficient as he rips open the package and affixes the dressing to both sides of my shoulder. It takes no more than thirty seconds, but it feels like a lifetime.
“Where’s Greer?” I ask as he reaches into his shoulder holster to hand me his secondary gun.
“She was keeping Mejia occupied at the front gate,” he replies as I quickly check the magazine and make sure there’s a round in the chamber.
“And how many did you bring with you?” I ask. I take the lead and exit the office. The hallway is clear and eerily silent.
Kynan follows me out. “I brought practically everyone.”
“Thank fuck,” I mutter as I increase my pace, gun raised and ready to blow away anyone who gets in my way.
Given the lack of gunfire and shouts, I’m guessing our folks have things well in hand. It would never occur to me to think it was the opposite and Mejia’s soldiers had won the day.
As we turn into the foyer, I see the double doors are wide open. Beyond that, several of Mejia’s soldiers have been rounded up and are sitting on the ground. Malik is busy zip-tying their hands while Hannah and Cash keep guns on them. I assume the others are out cleaning up the perimeter and sweeping the house.
As we step onto the porch, my eyes go down the driveway to the rolling gate, but there’s no Greer or Mejia.
Before I can ask where she is, Rachel, who actually runs the Jameson headquarters in Vegas, comes tearing around the corner of the house in an olive-green, ragtop Jeep. She skids to a halt and yells at me and Kynan, “Mejia has Greer! Come on.”
I don’t hesitate and neither does Kynan. We race for the Jeep and neither one of us would even dare ask to take over driving duties. Rachel is one of our most accomplished agents.
Kynan leaps into the back and I take the passenger seat. Rachel slams the car into gear and peels out in a spray of gravel.
“Why in the hell was Greer the bait?” I demand as Rachel hangs a hard left out of the driveway. “Better yet, why was she here to begin with since you brought the entire cavalry?”
Rachel doesn’t say a word, so I look back at Kynan. He cocks an eyebrow. “You honestly think she was going to sit this one out?”
It’s a question that doesn’t even need an answer because, of course, I wouldn’t expect her to sit this out. Like me, she’s always going to charge into danger. Especially if it’s to protect those she cares about.
But another question occurs to me. “How do you know which way they went?”
Rachel shifts gears and the Jeep leaps forward, the headlights not overly bright, making the drive that more dangerous. “Benji was in a bird overhead, but he lost them in the tree cover. Lucky for us, we have Bebe, and she put a tracker in Greer’s boot heel.”
“Genius,” I mutter as Kynan leans between the seats and hands me a digital tablet with a map of the immediate vicinity. Our vehicle is denoted by an orange triangle, and up ahead is a slow-blinking blue dot. I assume that’s Greer.
The road we’re on is curvy with foliage and brush growing right up to the edge, branches and leaves sometimes smacking against the open window. The area is uninhabited and dark with the overgrowth, shutting out the moonlight. Rachel cranks it up another gear and drives like a maniac, which is fine by me. All of us are required to take high-speed driving and evasion courses, and we’re able to handle any terrain thrown at us.
It’s tense in the silence as I watch the blue dot and I can see that we’re gaining ground.
All of a sudden, the blue dot moves off the road to the right. A driveway? Dirt road not on the map?
Whatever it is, he doesn’t go far, and the blue dot comes to a halt, pulsing ominously as we barrel down on that location.
I know without a doubt it is not a good sign that the car has stopped. It would be more important to Mejia to exact vengeance on Greer before fleeing for safety. Besides, he has no clue he’s being followed. My guess is he’s not able to contain himself and wants Greer to suffer sooner rather than later.
“Go faster,” I order.
Rachel kicks it into fifth gear and slams the pedal to the floor. The Jeep leaps forward but within just a quarter mile, I tell her to slow down as we’re getting close.
I peer into the darkness up ahead. “We’re close. Mejia’s pulled off close by.”
Rachel slows the vehicle as she’s the first to see the narrow dirt road. She takes a precarious right turn onto it. Ahead in the distance, I see Mejia and Greer in the glow of the headlights.