“How did they find us?” she asked breathlessly.
“No idea. We need to go.”
Outside, they sprinted for the cottage. Cam had a pistol in his hand, scanning the area.
A huge black Escalade was parked outside the warehouse. There was no one inside.
Cam raced to the shed where he’d parked their truck and opened the garage door.
“We’ll take the Colorado.” He circled the gray truck.
Saskia jumped in. Before she had her belt done up, he’d reversed out fast, did a wild turn and sped down the driveway.
He fished out his cell phone. Once they were out on the main road, he put the phone on speaker.
“Norcross.” Vander’s voice.
“Vander. They found us.”
Vander cursed. “How?”
“No clue. We just sped out of the training center. We’re heading north.”
“Okay. I think—”
“Howdy, boys.” A female voice cut across the line.
“Hex?” Vander said. “How the hell did you access this call? It’s a secure line.”
There was a snort. “Norcross, I’m a hacker. A really good one.” The woman’s tone changed. “I’ve been digging into your bad guys. Twenty-four hours ago, Mikhailov hired Syntax.”
“What’s Syntax?” Cam asked.
“A group of hackers out of Estonia,” Hex said. “Very good, very expensive. They don’t care who their clients are, as long as they pay. My guess is that he had them search for Saskia.”
“They found us,” Cam said.
“Fuck a duck.” There was the sound of clicking. “Peeps, you have a big problem. Mikhailov is tracking your phones.”
Saskia gasped.
“Toss the phones, Cam,” Vander ordered. “Go dark. Check in when it’s safe.”
“Acknowledged. Doing that now.” Cam tossed his phone out the window. “Yours too.”
Saskia put her window down and did the same.
Cam turned onto another road. It was dark, with no traffic. He picked up speed.
“So, we’re safe now?” she asked.
“I hope so.” Then his gaze shifted to the rearview mirror. He stiffened.
She looked back. Headlights were speeding toward them. “How?” she cried.
“Is your belt done up?” he asked.
She nodded.
The truck shot forward. She grabbed the seat, her heart in her throat. She looked back and her stomach swirled. “They’re gaining.”
“Hold on.” His voice was grim.
Suddenly, there were blinding lights in front of them. Another car cut in front of them from a side road.
Cam swore, hit the brakes and swerved. Their truck skidded, and the SUV behind them rammed into them.
As the truck lurched, Saskia screamed. She was tossed around, her seatbelt digging into her shoulder, then their truck skidded into a ditch beside the road.
Dizzy, she blinked. Everything was blurry.
“Cam?” She turned. He was in the seat beside her, not moving. His chin rested on his chest. “Cam!”
The doors were wrenched open.
Oh, no. She saw a goon lean in on the driver’s side. The man lifted a handgun, and shot Cam twice in the chest.
“No! No.” Saskia went wild.
Cam, no.
As panic and terror ripped into her, hard hands yanked her out of the vehicle.
Cam came to, stifling a groan.
His chest throbbed like he’d taken an RPG to the ribs. He pulled in a painful breath. Somewhere distant, he heard a woman’s heartrending sobs.
He tried to sort through the situation. The pain made it hard. He touched his chest. There was no blood, but it hurt like hell.
He felt the thin, high-tech, ballistic vest under his shirt. It was cracked.
Vander paid a small fortune for the still-experimental, but super-slim and lightweight vests. It fit under their business shirts and was discreet.
His had taken the brunt of two bullets, and while it had stopped them, he still felt like he’d been hit by a hammer.
He blinked in the low light, breathing through the pain. He was cramped, and he felt vibration.
He was in the trunk of a car.
He lay back and he listened to the sobbing. It tore at him.
Saskia.
He also heard the deep rumble of male voices.
“You’re murderers,” she yelled. “You won’t get away with this. I’ll make sure you pay—” Her voice broke.
Ah, shit, she thought he was dead. Cam pressed a palm to his abused chest. There was nothing he could do about that. Right now, he needed to pull himself together, make a plan, and get her safe.
They hit a bump, and a spike of agony rammed through him.
Fuck. It made him gag. He lost time for a while, his brain drifting through fog.
The next thing he realized, the car wasn’t moving, and he smelled aircraft fuel. He strained to hear anything. He couldn’t hear Saskia.
Shit. They were at an airport.
There was a dim glow, but he couldn’t see much. He ripped off the side panels in the trunk. He found an emergency kit, including a small flashlight.
He clamped the light in his mouth, then pried the panel covering the trunk latching mechanism.
It took him a minute, but then there was a dull thunk as the trunk released.
Cam pushed it open, trying his best to block the pain in his torso, and sat up.
They were at a small airstrip. Probably on some rich guy’s estate.
Cam fished around in the emergency kit. He found some painkillers and dry swallowed a few of them. It wouldn’t do much, but right now, he’d take anything he could get.
He pulled the damaged panels out of his vest, then climbed out of the trunk.
His vision swam, but he locked his legs. He had to get to Saskia. If they got her on a plane…
No. Not gonna happen.
He peered around the car.
He saw a guard carrying a struggling Saskia toward a private jet. She was fighting him every step of the way.
Then the asshole hit her.
Cam growled. She sagged and the man tossed her over his shoulder. The guy boarded the Cessna Citation.
Fuck.
Cam scanned around. Headlights cut through the darkness and a van pulled up beside the jet.
Ultimo Catering. It had a logo with a whisk beneath it.
A man climbed out wearing a shirt and ball cap with the company logo on them. The guy opened the back of the van, then grabbed a box, and headed up the steps into the plane.
Cam raced out, sprinting across the tarmac. He reached the delivery van, and inside he saw another box, ready to go. He slipped around the side of the van and waited.
The delivery driver came back down the plane steps, whistling.
Cam darted out. He slipped an arm around the guy’s neck.
“Sorry.” He pulled back and cut the man’s air off.
The guy gurgled and kicked his legs. It only took a few seconds before he sagged. Cam dragged him around and stripped off his shirt and hat.
“I’m really sorry.” He shoved the man in the back of the van. The guy would regain consciousness before too long.
Cam slipped on the shirt, covering up the bullet holes in his T-shirt. He pulled the cap low over his face and hefted the box. He closed the van doors.
He hurried up the steps and into the jet.
The pilots were talking quietly in the cockpit. Cam kept his head low, gaze on the floor as he headed into the main area.