Exit Strategy

FIFTY-ONE

For five minutes after Dubois left, I lay in bed waiting for his return. Then I sat up. I knew I needed to give it longer than that-he’d be waiting for me to fall back to sleep before returning-but something was niggling at the back of my brain, pestering me to get up.

I checked the clock. Still seven minutes before Jack or Qui

I reached for my radio to call them and say I was up. As I swung my legs over the bedside, the smell hit me. Faint…but familiar. A memory flash. I’d been eight. Brad and my mother had gone out, and I’d wanted to cook di

I leapt to my feet so fast I tripped and nearly dropped my gun. I recovered, and raced out the door. So this was Wilkes’s plan-knock everyone unconscious and make easy work of the killings.

As I hit the hall, I heard the hiss of gas, not from downstairs, but from a bedroom. The gas fireplace in the master suite. I started to run, then checked myself. It could be a trap.

I lifted my gun then looked down at it and froze. Fire into a room full of gas?

I stuffed the gun into my holster, so I’d have both hands free…and so I wouldn’t instinctively fire if I saw Wilkes. As I holstered the gun, I thought of the radio. I’d left it in the room, ru

I stopped before reaching the doorway, and let my eyes adjust to the near dark as I listened. The hiss of gas from within covered any sounds, but that would work both ways. I reached into my pocket and made sure I had my penlight handy. Then I peered around the doorway.

The room was empty. In a sweep, I took in every place a man Wilkes’s size could hide. Dresser-too low. Bed-see-through iron headboard. The closet. It would have to be the closet. As I slunk along the wall, I paused to take out my penlight. Then I moved alongside the door.

Empty hangers clinked as I swung the door open. A walk-in closet. Empty except for a forlorn handful of hangers and a couple of plastic storage containers. The storage containers were stacked in the middle of the large closet. I looked up to see an attic access hatch above that stack. Was that how he’d come in? Shit!

I backpedaled out of the closet. My gaze flew to the hissing fireplace. Get that turned off first, then-

I took one step and froze. There, at the base of the fireplace, was a little box. On the box, a timer, a simple windup timer. And it was about to go off.

Dubois! I had to get to him-

No time!

“Dubois!” I screamed. “Get out!”

I grabbed the nearest thing, a brass planter with a fake tree. I seized the thin trunk with both hands, and swung the planter at the window. It flew through the glass, the planter sailing free into the backyard.

One brusque sweep with the tree to clear the glass from the sill. Then I threw it aside.

“Dubois!” I screamed, voice cracking.

I backed up and took a run at the window. Grabbed the sill-vaulted through-a whoosh behind me-searing pain-a smack like an airbag going off-the force of explosion propelling me out the window-ground flying up to meet me-darkness.

I came to with a jolt, my limbs flailing as if I was still falling. I tried pushing myself up. A sudden “Oh, my God!” wave of pain, and I fell face-first to the grass again.

I had to get up. If Wilkes saw me fly out that window-

Qui

Another boom, and the night lit up. I craned to look over my shoulder. The house was in flames, the windows and doors yawning holes. Qui

Did Dubois make it? I couldn’t worry about that. Had to get up. Find-

Wilkes.

I reached for my gun. The holster was empty.

I started looking around wildly as I pushed up onto my elbows. A sharp throbbing coursed through my wrist. My right wrist. My gun hand.

Doesn’t matter. Just find the damned thing and worry later about whether you can fire-

Something moved across the lawn. A tall broad-shouldered figure. Qui

My lips were parting to call a greeting, then something in the house flared and the flash of light illuminated a face under pale hair. Wilkes. Looking right at me. Heading for me. A slender barreled gun dangled at his side. Even half-stu

Fury coursed through me, so strong I had no hope of beating it back. Couldn’t even form a clear thought. Could only glower up at Wilkes like a cornered beast. Then I saw the gun glide down, moving into position, and my brain snapped back on.

Don’t fight the anger. Use it.

A gun like that is made for contact hits. Small caliber, inaccurate with the suppressor, still noisy if fired from a distance. He’d want to walk right up to me and put the gun to my head. I had a chance…

I moved into a crouch, my gaze on Wilkes. He smiled, close enough for me to see the flash of his teeth. Then he aimed. I rolled just as he fired and the bullet tore a furrow in the grass inches from my shoulder. A second shot as I rolled the other way.

I scrambled to my feet as I came out of the roll. Pain shot through my ankle. Just sprained, I told myself, even as the ripping pain screamed otherwise. Didn’t matter. Pain was nothing. An obstacle. Not a barrier.

I dove for the nearest shadow cover-the row of hedges alongside the fence. A bullet struck the middle of my back. The armor protected me, but the impact was like someone giving me a hard shove. I stumbled. My ankle gave way. I pitched forward.

No! Fall and you’re dead. Get into those bushes. Now!

I pulled myself out of the stumble as a bullet grazed my upper arm. Three lurching steps, and I dove into the bushes. A shot smacked into the fence boards. Wilkes let out a muttered oath.

Not used to firing that thing at a moving target, are you? I thought. Not used to firing more than one shot, either. And time was ticking. A house had just exploded. Cops, fire trucks, ambulances, they’d all be here…if Jack and the others didn’t beat them. Wilkes was ru

I could turn the tables, use his impatience and the flickering light and the shadows to my advantage, then-

Then what? I didn’t have a gun. To take him down without a weapon, I needed to get close enough to physically attack him. While the thought of putting my hands around his neck sent a delicious shiver through me, I knew I stood little chance of getting close enough to do it.

Little chance…

A deep part of me seized on that, said “It’s still a chance, good enough, take it!” But I’d promised Jack. Sworn I wouldn’t do this again.

Still darting from bush to bush, dodging Wilkes’s shots, I drew deep breaths, slowing my heart, reminding myself of my promise.

If I took this chance, and I lost, then maybe that didn’t mean as much to me as it should, maybe I’d say the risk was worth it, maybe I could even convince myself that Jack wouldn’t realize I’d broken my promise. But one thing I did know. If I went down, Wilkes would get away. He’d have no reason to hang around, and any chance that someone else would catch him-Jack, Qui