Page 5 of Defending You
“You’re saying there are men outside the precinct, looking for you?”
“I witnessed a murder, and?—”
“Dispatching police to your location.”
“They just need to run outside!” Cici watched the building, expecting uniformed police to swarm toward her.
Nobody came.
She was in the left lane, inching forward. Any second, and she’d come level with the truck where the man was waiting for her.
She clicked the button to lock the doors, then clicked it again. Just in case.
A half block ahead, there was a right turn, but the cars were stacked like crackers in a sleeve. No way for her to change lanes.
Up ahead, a red light stopped all the traffic.
If she got out and tried to get away on foot, the guard would see her. Her two-inch heels weren’t exactly made for running.
But if she stayed in the car, unless the police came, she’d be trapped.
The guard stepped out from behind the pickup. He wore earbuds and was speaking, probably telling the smooth-talking man exactly where she was.
He stepped onto the street a few cars ahead of hers, one arm swinging naturally by his side, the other tucked into his jeans pocket. He must have a handgun. As soon as he got close enough, he’d kill her. Just like that.
The light turned green, but the cars on the cross street blocked the intersection. Horns blared.
“Lord, help me.”
“Sit tight,” the operator said. “They’re coming.”
“Not fast enough!”
The guard was getting closer, heading straight for her.
The light ahead turned yellow, but the two cars in front of her snuck through.
Before she could gun it, a sea of pedestrians crossed, blocking her.
The guard was ten feet away now, his bulk parting the people like a shark through water.
Cici looked at the building, expecting to see police. Two exited the building, but they were too far away.
She looked to the right.
What she saw turned her blood to ice.
Another man was approaching from the opposite direction. He wore a suit and tie, and though she hadn’t seen the face of the man who’d killed Mr. D, she guessed this was him.
They had her flanked.
Her mind screamed at her to move, to do something. The light was red, people were still crossing, but she had no choice.
She mashed her horn and hit the accelerator, sending pedestrians scrambling out of her way. She floored it, the car surging forward, cutting off a delivery truck that blared its horn. She swerved into a right turn, away from the precinct, her tires screeching as she took the corner.
Her eyes flicked between the road and the mirror. No sign of them, but they’d follow.
“Ma’am,” the operator said. “Just sit tight?—”
