Page 17 of Defending You
Asher leaned over her to look out.
The thug was scanning the train windows with a predator’s focus, inching closer to the doors. Any second, he’d board. He’d find them.
She ducked out of the way before he saw her.
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.” Her pulse hammered. “That’s him.”
“Let’s go.” He yanked his backpack from the floor, her suitcase from the overhead bin. “Go.”
She hooked her purse in her elbow and pulled the suitcase behind her, aiming toward the back of the train.
Behind her, Asher slung his duffel over his shoulders. “Into the next car.”
She moved fast until she got stuck behind a guy in a rumpled suit who grumbled about personal space. The man was in no hurry.
Asher was a solid wall at her back, following her through the connecting door into the next coach.
The train’s warning chime sounded.
“Move!” Asher barked. His voice carried authority, and the guy in front of Cici slid into an empty row.
She hurried forward and was nearly to the exit when the doors started to close.
Asher lunged, wedging his arm between the closing doors, muscles straining as he forced them apart. “Now, Cici! Go.”
She squeezed through the gap and stumbled onto the platform, barely keeping her feet, her suitcase bumping her ankle.
Asher jumped out, and the doors slammed shut with a hiss.
Through the window, she glimpsed the bald thug’s head whipping toward them, his eyes locking on hers before the train lurched forward, carrying him away.
Her chest heaved with relief. “They’re gone. We’re?—”
“Move!” Asher grabbed her arm and pulled her away from the station’s small brick building. She stumbled beside him, confused, until she glanced back.
Two more figures emerged from the building—dark jackets, purposeful strides, closing in fast. The bald guard hadn’t been alone. Of course not. That would’ve been way too easy.
She and Asher reached a fence higher than she was tall—this was not the official exit route. He tossed their bags over, then linked his hands together and held them about knee-high. “You can do this.”
Could she? The men were moving their way, leaving her zero choice.
She gripped the vertical rails, stepped into Asher’s linked hands, and hoisted herself over, nearly falling on her butt on the far side.
He followed gracefully, looking like Superman to her very clumsy Lois Lane.
He thrust her suitcase at her, slipped his duffel onto his back, and crossed the flower bed they’d dropped into.
She hauled the suitcase onto the parking lot, its wheels rattling over uneven pavement.
A few people wandered through the half-full lot.
Asher scanned quickly, then beelined for an older sedan—a beat-up gray thing that looked like it hadn’t moved since the nineties.
“What are we doing?” She’d expected them to run, try to hide from the bad guys, but obviously, Asher had a different plan.
Crouched by the driver’s door, he pulled something from his duffel bag—a thin metal tool—and jimmied the lock faster than any AAA roadside assistant could manage. The door popped open, and he slid inside and yanked wires from under the dash.
