Page 69 of Hunted

Not now, heart.

She sat down slowly and tried calming herself with mental reassurances, focused on taking deep, slow breaths, and willed her heart not to flip into tachycardia. If she could control her fear, she might be able to control the attack.

And eventually she did.

Then something furry brushed against her leg, and the SVT hit her full force.

There was something in Stryker’s eyes when he sidled up close to Romano, something that told him things were going seriously wrong. He sort of meandered as he talked, in a way that appeared aimless, but actually edged them further from the others.

Lexi’s half-sisters were watching like hawks.

“The formula’s a higher priority than the life of one woman,” Stryker said, glancing around to be sure it was safe to talk. “They think they’ve pinpointed the location—they’re gonna take it out.”

“No.”

“Drone strike. ETA is about an hour. I owe you, so …” Then he slammed his palm to Romano’s chest, shoved a piece of paper and a set of keys into his pocket, and yelled, “That’s it, Romano! I want you and these other civilians out of here! Now!”

“Fine, but this isn’t over!” Romano shouted back. Then he mouthed “thanks” and, turning, stomped away.

Every cop was looking at him as he went, so he kept up the infuriated routine. When he got close enough to Lexi’s family members, he spoke softly. “Get in your cars and follow me. Say nothing.”

Kira said, “The hell I’ll say nothing. Follow you where?”

“He’s taking us to Lexi,” Joey whispered. “And I think there’s a reason to hurry.”

Connor frowned, wondering how the hell she knew that. She couldn’t have overheard.

Kira said, “Michael and I will ride with you.”

They piled into two cars and took off. As he drove, Connor tugged the paper from his pocket. “This is the address. We have less than an hour to get her out of there.”

Kira took the paper from his hand, since she was closest, then took out her phone and started tapping. “Let’s see what we can learn from Google Earth.”

Connor nodded. He had to get Lexi out of this alive, no matter what it took. Even if it meant letting White walk away.

“I have two weapons,” he said. “There might be more in the car. It’s Stryker’s.”

Kira opened the glove compartment. “Make that four guns, and this.” She held up a small silver-trimmed crystal flask. Opening it, she sniffed. “Whiskey.”

“Yeah, I can modify that just a bit. Shame to pour out the whiskey but?—”

“No problem there.” Kira unscrewed the cap and took a gulp, then she passed it around.

It took more than thirty minutes for Lexi’s heart to convert back to a normal rhythm. She’d tried every trick in the book from carotid massage to bearing down to holding her breath. None of it worked. In the end, she’d done what she constantly warned patients never ever to do; applied pressure to both the carotid and the jugular at the same time, restricting blood flow to and from her brain until she started seeing big fuzzy black spots before her eyes. She was on the verge of passing out when she felt as if her heart was flipping like a pancake.

The painful “BA-DUMP-BUMP” sensation hurt like a heart attack, but wasn’t. It was just her ticker converting back to its normal rhythm.

Finally, exhausted, she sat on the floor, her back to the wall, pressing her fingers to her neck to feel her pulse, just to assure herself she was okay.

She was, but she was also weak, dizzy, exhausted, shaky, and her head hurt. Typical aftermath of a major episode.

There was no time to rest, though. She had to get herself out of this mess. Like an answered prayer, lights came on from up above and streamed through the slats in the wooden hatch overhead. It wasn’t nearly as distant as it had seemed when she’d been falling through darkness. Which was a good thing, because it was also the only way out.

She got up, grabbed hold of the crate she’d found earlier and placed it in the center of the room. Standing on it, stretching her arms overhead, she could just reach the hatch door. She pushed it upward, testing.

To her surprise, it gave. No locks?

She had to jump and shove at the hatch at the same time to make it flip all the way open. It banged, her crate cracked, and she cringed at both sounds. But the crate didn’t break and no one from above reacted to the noise the hatch had made. More light streamed in now that it was open, making her blink like a mole. Was it morning, or had they rigged up some lighting up there?

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