Page 77 of Lone Spy

“On three,” Ash says, his eyes holding mine. I nod.

“One, two, three.” Alesana starts to shoot as we kick off the SUV, moving toward the shore opposite the road. The current carries us downstream, away from the bridge and our would-be assassins. My legs feel leaden, the cold water numbing them and my wet jeans dragging.

I slip under for a brief moment but surge back to the surface, fear and desperation renewing my strength. I’m not going to drown in a fucking shallow river!

Ash’s arm comes around my waist and he pulls me close. He can stand now. Maneuvering me in front of him, he pushes me toward the shore. Bullets strike the water around us, and Ash makes a sharp sound as my feet find purchase on the river bottom.

I turn back to look, but Ash pushes me forward, forcing me to watch where I’m going. “Get to the tree line.” His voice is tight with pain. Was he shot?

We splash up the bank and digging my hands into the cold, damp soil, I start to climb up to where the trees grow thick and solid. One of Ash’s hands lands on my ass, helping me up the steep incline.

The firing stops as we reach the cover of the trees. I lean against a thick trunk, panting. Ash joins me, his chest also heaving from the exertion. My teeth chatter and the wind brushing against my wet clothing leeches more warmth from my body.

“Take off your clothes,” Ash says. “They will pull heat. Better to have less on.”

“I will if you give me a gun.”

Ash nods. “On my left hip.” He pushes off the tree and stands in front of me, close enough that we are both still protected by the tree. Blood soaks the left sleeve of his coat, mixing with the water so that his entire arm is dripping in a pink cast.

“You’re shot.”

“Take the gun.”

My hands shaking, I push back his coat and pull the pistol from his holster. The solid weight of it calms me. “Stay under cover,” he says. I look up to find his eyes shining down at me. His gaze drops to my lips. “I need to hear you say it.”

“I’ll be safe,” I say.

A muscle jumps in Ash’s cheek. He doesn’t like that answer. Wants me to say the words he said. But I can’t. Because I won’t stay under cover. There is something Ineedto do.

Ash doesn’t press me. There isn’t time. He moves to another tree and, extending his uninjured right arm, lays down fire, giving Alesana cover as he swims to us.

I pull off my sweater and let it fall, limp and heavy to the mossy ground. My fingers fumbling, I struggle with the buttons of my flannel shirt.

Peering around the tree trunk reveals Alesana almost to the shore. Beyond him, Martin is crossing the suspension bridge while Ash fires at him, his bullets pinging off the metal with tiny sparks of light.

I peel off my shirt and am down to just a sopping wet T-shirt, my jeans and boots. I start to run. My legs eat up the ground. “Angela!” Ash’s voice calls out behind me. But I’m flying, darting between the trees, my limbs coming back to life.

Ash’s footsteps pound behind me, but he won’t catch me—not with his injury. Not in this thick forest. My legs extend, arms pump, my focus lasered. I’m not letting this opportunity slip past. No fucking way.

Martin’s hair flashes in the trees ahead of me, and I dip behind a trunk. Quieting my breathing, I listen. He’s not trying to be quiet. Doesn’t expect me to stalk him. Martin expects me to flee.

I check my position. My right wrist is in line with the rear of the pistol. My pinkie, ring, and middle fingers are curled around the grip. My trigger finger lies flat against the barrel…for now.

The thumb of my support hand presses against the side of the pistol, and the fingers curl to clutch the pistol with both hands, a hair’s breadth less than as hard as I can.

A twig snaps near me and my finger finds the trigger. Martin appears between the trees, running at an angle toward where he imagines me to be. He’s looking straight ahead, moving fast, his own gun just as ready as mine.

I wait for him to get a little past me—so that he won’t see me emerge from the trees. Keeping my head erect, my neck and shoulders neutral, I push out with my support thumb as my trigger finger eases back. Looking through the sight, not at it, with my dominant eye, I find the back of Martin’s head. And I fire.

The sound roars in my ears in the same moment that Martin falls. Bending my elbows again, I move toward him, picking my way across the forest floor. Martin’s gun lies next to his hand and I kick it away, then prod him with my boot.

His body is still. No billowing breaths. A calmness settles over me as his blood soaks into the earth. The chattering cold from earlier is gone, replaced by a powerful heat.

The sound of an engine breaks the spell. About fifty yards to my right an SUV flashes through the trees. There is a road there. We are still on the Crown’s land. The vehicle comes to a stop and men start to pile out.

I need to find Ash.

I try to be quiet as I run back the way I came, but leaves crunch and sticks crack. The cold starts to seep in again. I see Ash in my peripheral vision at the same moment his hand wraps around my bicep and tugs me against his body.

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