Page 21 of Soothsayer

Thank god we didn’t have to stop at any other floors on the way down.

The door opened at the bottom, and I powered my way through the crowd on the other side with a vague, “’Scuse me.”

“Mommy, look, a hand!” one overly observant child called out as I passed by. Shit, one of Sören’s arms had come partially uncovered.

“It’s a dummy,” I called back to his shocked mother as I headed for the door to the parking garage. “We’re filming a video, it’s a whole big thing. You’ll see it on TikTok!” Then I was through and easing the cart into the garage, searching for Andre, who…was not there.Fuck.

Well, I wasn’t being shot at yet, so there was still time. I recovered my duffel bag and set it on top of Sören’s midsection, opened out the case with my Glock 19 in it and shoved in the magazine. I tucked it into the back of my trousers, then pushed the cart toward the garage entrance. Andre would be here any minute. Aaany minute now…

“Það er hann!”

The brothers had found me first. I didn’t know what they were saying, but fortunately they provided a direct translation viashooting at me. I ducked down behind someone’s Porsche SUV and fired back, well above their heads. I wasn’t in this to kill anyone. I just needed to keep them occupied, and I had fifteen bullets to do it with.Bang bang bang.Twelve.

When Andre arrived thirty seconds later, he drove straight into a firefight.

To his credit, probably thanks to years spent in combat zones, he didn’t balk, just stopped his car between me and the brothers and yelled, “Where’s the package?”

“On the cart. I need your help with it!”Bang. Six left.

“Making me get out of my damn car in the middle of this shit,” he muttered furiously, but get out he did. When he saw what was exactly on the cart, he yelled, “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me!”

“Just get him in the car. I’ll cover you.” One of the brothers—Rolf, I think—was trying to flank us to the side. I fired two shots at him and then another at the first one by the door. “I’m running out of ammo here, hurry!”

“Running out of goddamn ammo in a gunfight, what kind of seer are you?” Andre was big, bigger than me, and he managed to heave Sören into the backseat, throw my bag on top, and slam the door shut. He jumped into the driver’s seat again. “C’mon, let’s go!”

Crash!A bullet shattered the Porsche’s window just above the crown of my head, showering me with glass. I fired blindly in the direction of the shot, threw myself into the car over Andre’s lap, and scrambled for the far seat. “Go, go now!”

“I would if you’d get your damn ass out of my face!” he snarled, but the car did leap forward. Five seconds and one broken barrier later, we were out on the road heading away from the Omni. I had never been more relieved in all my life.

“There are fucking bullet holes in my Tesla! How am I gonna explain this to my wife?”

Even with the shouting…so relieved.

Chapter Twelve

Andre obviously didn’t share my relief at escaping relatively unscathed from the Omni parking garage. He was silent for the first few minutes of the drive, opening his mouth every now and then but stopping before more than a hitch of breath emerged. It happened five times before I finally spoke up.

“Just get it off your chest. I don’t want you to have a stroke.”

“And I don’t want to punch you in the face so hard your daddy feels it, but that’s where I’m at right now, so give me some goddamn space.”

Well, that was clear enough. Except—we kind ofneededto talk. “I’m going to need a car.”

“Fuck you, man,I’mgoing to need a car,” Andre muttered. “How am I going to explain this to my wife, huh? Bullet holes in myTesla, man. This thing is less than a year old. I drive mydaughteraround in this!” He turned to glare at me. “Did you know this was going to happen?”

“No!” He looked unconvinced, but I was tired of taking it, so I glared right back. “No, because I don’t make a habit of sending other people into dangerous situations just to save my own ass!”Except for Sören.“Especially when I’d rather not be in a dangerous situation in the first place. For fuck’s sake, you think that was where I wanted to be? Do I look like John McClane?”

Andre snorted. “More like a really low-rent version of James Bond.” He glanced at me again. “I think you’re bleeding.”

I checked my arm. Yep, there was blood happening. “Brand new suit,” I muttered as I started to squirm out of my jacket. A sudden pain in my upper back stopped me. “Ow, fuck!”

“Just…stop moving, okay? I’ll look you over when we get back to my place. We’re not far. You’re probably driving glass farther into the wound.”

“What glass?”

He stared at me like I was stupid. “Glass from the window that exploded over your head, maybe?”

“What window?”

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