Frankie sped to the trees and the path became rocky, jagged, bumpy.
Once again I thought of the driver of the Porsche. I had to get him.
On three, I moved and fired one shot, growling as I did so.
It got him.
It got them and the car jerked up on the path then smashed into a tree.
It didn’t matter who else got taken out in the car, we lost them.
“You guys okay?” I asked both of them but I checked Jia.
She was shaking but she was okay.
“I’m fine.”
I looked to Frankie and saw his arm was covered with blood. Fuck, he’d been hit.
“Frankie where’d they get you?”
“It’s just my arm. We need to keep going.”
“I’ll drive,” Jia offered. “Stop the truck. I’ll drive.”
“I should drive,” I cut in.
She shook her head. “No, I can’t do what you do and I can’t curl up and hide. I can help. Me on the wheel means you and Frankie can shoot if necessary. Frankie needs a bandage.”
I liked her way of thinking. What I didn’t like was the fact that if we had a repeat of just now she wouldn’t be able to keep her head down.
She reached forward and touched my face. “I’ll be okay. I will,” she assured me.
I nodded and looked to Frankie. “Stop the truck Frankie and get back here.”
He pulled the truck to a stop and he and Jia switched.
When she started driving down the path, I looked over Frankie’s wound which looked bad. I grabbed one of the t-shirts his mother had given us and bandaged his arm with it, hoping the bleeding would stop.
“I’m good, kid. Don’t worry about me. It just hurts like a son of a bitch.” He chuckled. I’d only known a few people like him, who could take a bullet and act like it was a fucking scratch.
“You sure Frankie? We should get you to the hospital.”
“Kid, we can’t stop for that. This just got next level bad. We gotta lose the truck. Aside from my plates giving us away and acting like a homing beacon, we can’t ride around all day with a bullet riddled truck. People will notice.” He chuckled deep and hearty, as if he was fine. Although I could see he was in pain, just taking it really well. He was right though. We had to lose the truck.
“What do you have in mind?”
“I know a guy who can give us a ride. We just have to hope we don’t have any more surprises along the way,” he answered then looked to Jia. “Princess, switch the route on the GPS to Park Valley.”
Jia did as he said.
We got to Park Valley two hours later and saw Frankie’s contact.
I said a silent prayer of thanks that we didn’t get any more surprises on the damn way. I didn’t know if I could take it. The worry over Jia would get me and probably give me a heart attack.
We got into a Range Rover and I decided to take over driving.
With the new truck I had more assurance that we would be able to get to Idaho without any more hassle. Unless Giovanni had some wicked bad high tech satellite imaging recognition that could pick out our faces if we got caught driving by one of the cameras on the highway.
It was some sort of NASA tech I’d heard about and I really hoped that was just my imagination running wild and not reality.
I could see it happening though. He was crazy enough and powerful enough to have that type of asset. Jia was what he wanted. His daughter.
The shootout earlier made me wonder though if he didn’t care whether he got her back dead or alive. The men shooting weren’t exactly careful, but then you couldn’t really be careful in a scenario like that, you could only be as careful as you could be.
As soon as we left Park Valley we diverted towards Salt Lake City.
I thought it would be a good place to stop for a while. By the time we reached it, we’d already been on the road for ten hours with the delay in stopping over at Park Valley and of course the shootout. I’d been hoping that we would have gotten closer to our destination but it was okay.
While we were there we got some bandages for Frankie. I would have preferred to have gone to the walk-in medical center but it would be a little difficult to explain a bullet wound.
My plan was Jack. He’d be able to look at it.
We stopped in Salt Lake City for about six hours and we all just slept in the truck.
Frankie and I alternated between keeping watch for two hours each while the other got some sleep. We set off early morning again and headed to Boise, Idaho.
Just like in my younger days, the air was the first thing I noticed to change. It was fresh and had that mountain spring cleanliness to it.
That was the first thing that I’d noticed when Jack brought me here to live. Living in Chicago for most of my life I tended to notice things like that. City to Country.
Jack was originally from Montana; his family had a farm there so he knew exactly what I meant when I’d commented on it, he really did. I thought at the time that he appreciated that I noticed.
It was here that I’d decided I wanted to become a marine and go on some of the types of adventures he went on.
As I drove over the State line and saw the Welcome to Idaho sign, memories came flooding back into my mind.
All of it from start to finish. Or rather where I’d decided it should end.
I could have come back before now. I should have. It would have been right. I just couldn’t face Jack. I promised I’d take care of Claire and I wasn’t able to stop her from dying.
From being killed.
I felt like a failure and a failure of the worst kind. The kind that was seeking justice and hadn’t found it. Five long years and I hadn’t been able to bring Balthazar down to his knees and chop off his damn head for what he’d done.
Jia reached across and tapped my hand, pulling me out of my thoughts.
I’d almost forgotten she was next to me. Frankie was in the back watching the scenery change as we rode by.
“You okay?” she asked. “You look worried.”
“I am.”
She knew why I’d be worried. “Don’t be, I think he’ll be more than happy to see you.”
“I really hope so.”
I was about to find out.
I turned down North Cartwright Road that led to Hidden Springs. Jack lived off there in a plantation style house.
Two minutes down the road and I could see it.
It was five thirty. The sun was bright already but still held that subtle presence of peeking through to start the new day.
If I knew Jack, he would be up already tending to the horses.
The house I’d loved so much came into view and I turned down the long drive, passing the fields and the lake.
I’d forgotten how big the place was, it was huge.
I pulled up just outside the house across from his truck. He had that same beat up pickup he called Bertha.
God, I’d missed him. He was Claire’s father but he’d felt like mine too.
The door to the stables opened and my heart stilled when Jack stepped out. His face contorted with curiosity as to who would be coming to his home at this hour.
He took off his heavy duty work gloves and started walking toward us.
When I opened the door and stepped out he stopped short and stared on ahead at me, his lips parted and shock registered on his face.
Jack looked the same, a little older but roughly the same. Most guys who were ex-military tended to take care of themselves. Jack was no exception. He still looked tough like he could kill you. A little like a cross between Bruce Willis and Hugh Jackman. That was what Jack looked like.