fraction of a second to disappear.
She ran across the polished floor. Something slammed into the door she’d just locked. Angry shouts. The door rattled again.
The tool cabinet was up ahead. She grabbed the drill and two screwdrivers and jammed them into holes in the side of the cabinet exactly how Marcus had showed her.
A gunshot made her jump, and they rattled the door again. Shooting off the lock. Two more shots would do it. That was what Marcus had told her. Three shots to get through it and then she’d be out of time.
She wiggled the screwdriver in the hole, but nothing happened. Crud!
Another gunshot. Metal on metal.
They tried the door again.
“Come on!” She wiggled the screwdriver again, and this time the bottom eighteen inches of the back wall of the storage cabinet slid away. “Yes!”
She dropped to her knees and shoved tools aside.
The third shot rang out.
She wiggled past the paint cans and squeezed through the opening. The door rattled, and Isabella reached into the cabinet to return the tools.
The door opened, and she leapt back and slid the back wall of the cabinet back into place.
There was a faint light in the cavernous garage, and she could see the outline of the SUV Marcus had stashed here. He’d said it was loaded with everything she would need to get away. The car was unlocked, and the keys were in the ignition, just as Marcus had said they would be.
But as the engine roared to life and the steel garage door rolled open behind her, she was filled with a sudden sense of wrongness. She dropped her head to the steering wheel, her chest too tight to breathe. How could she leave Marcus and Roseann behind? What would happen to them? What—
The cabinet slammed open and Leon’s head emerged. They stared at each other for a long moment.
The man Marcus had trusted with her life and his own.
He smiled, a special smile she recognized from so many shared jokes. “Isa,” he called out. “It’s all okay now. I’ve taken care of them. Are you okay?”
Isabella’s heart lurched. God, to have it be over…“Leon—” Then she saw his right hand was hidden, out of sight.
He’d never hidden his gun from her before.
He was lying.
She jammed the truck into reverse and slammed her foot on the accelerator. The truck flew backward up the ramp. Leon shouted. He whipped out his gun and fired. A bullet bounced off the hood of the SUV.
And another.
And another.
Then she was outside, in the dark silence of early morning in Boston.
She threw the gearshift into drive as Leon raced up the ramp toward her. He raised his gun and aimed right for her. A lethal shot.
The truck lurched forward, the passenger window shattered, and pain ricocheted up her shoulder. Isabella gasped at the agony, and the truck careened across the road.
“Come on!” She grabbed for the steering wheel, yanked the truck back toward the yellow line and floored the accelerator.
She didn’t wait to see how long it would take for them to run around the house to their cars parked out front.
She just gunned it and raced for her life.
C HAPTER F OUR
Isabella tensed as the Hummer skidded around the sharp turn of the highway on-ramp. The truck’s rear slid out and its front end careened straight toward the guardrail. She hauled the steering wheel to left, the truck bounced back up on the road and she slammed on the brakes, skidding to a stop in the breakdown lane.
She was shaking so badly she could barely get the gearshift into park. She draped her arms over the steering wheel and dropped her forehead to the cool leather, trying to calm down.
But despair and grief welled up and burst free. She pressed her palms to her eyes, rocking back and forth as the sobs shattered her defenses. Was Marcus dead? Was Roseann? What about her baby? Were Leon and Nate after her?
Of course they were.
She couldn’t stop. It wasn’t over. She needed to get help. But where? Whom could she turn to?
Not Leon.
Not the police. She knew enough
She ran across the polished floor. Something slammed into the door she’d just locked. Angry shouts. The door rattled again.
The tool cabinet was up ahead. She grabbed the drill and two screwdrivers and jammed them into holes in the side of the cabinet exactly how Marcus had showed her.
A gunshot made her jump, and they rattled the door again. Shooting off the lock. Two more shots would do it. That was what Marcus had told her. Three shots to get through it and then she’d be out of time.
She wiggled the screwdriver in the hole, but nothing happened. Crud!
Another gunshot. Metal on metal.
They tried the door again.
“Come on!” She wiggled the screwdriver again, and this time the bottom eighteen inches of the back wall of the storage cabinet slid away. “Yes!”
She dropped to her knees and shoved tools aside.
The third shot rang out.
She wiggled past the paint cans and squeezed through the opening. The door rattled, and Isabella reached into the cabinet to return the tools.
The door opened, and she leapt back and slid the back wall of the cabinet back into place.
There was a faint light in the cavernous garage, and she could see the outline of the SUV Marcus had stashed here. He’d said it was loaded with everything she would need to get away. The car was unlocked, and the keys were in the ignition, just as Marcus had said they would be.
But as the engine roared to life and the steel garage door rolled open behind her, she was filled with a sudden sense of wrongness. She dropped her head to the steering wheel, her chest too tight to breathe. How could she leave Marcus and Roseann behind? What would happen to them? What—
The cabinet slammed open and Leon’s head emerged. They stared at each other for a long moment.
The man Marcus had trusted with her life and his own.
He smiled, a special smile she recognized from so many shared jokes. “Isa,” he called out. “It’s all okay now. I’ve taken care of them. Are you okay?”
Isabella’s heart lurched. God, to have it be over…“Leon—” Then she saw his right hand was hidden, out of sight.
He’d never hidden his gun from her before.
He was lying.
She jammed the truck into reverse and slammed her foot on the accelerator. The truck flew backward up the ramp. Leon shouted. He whipped out his gun and fired. A bullet bounced off the hood of the SUV.
And another.
And another.
Then she was outside, in the dark silence of early morning in Boston.
She threw the gearshift into drive as Leon raced up the ramp toward her. He raised his gun and aimed right for her. A lethal shot.
The truck lurched forward, the passenger window shattered, and pain ricocheted up her shoulder. Isabella gasped at the agony, and the truck careened across the road.
“Come on!” She grabbed for the steering wheel, yanked the truck back toward the yellow line and floored the accelerator.
She didn’t wait to see how long it would take for them to run around the house to their cars parked out front.
She just gunned it and raced for her life.
C HAPTER F OUR
Isabella tensed as the Hummer skidded around the sharp turn of the highway on-ramp. The truck’s rear slid out and its front end careened straight toward the guardrail. She hauled the steering wheel to left, the truck bounced back up on the road and she slammed on the brakes, skidding to a stop in the breakdown lane.
She was shaking so badly she could barely get the gearshift into park. She draped her arms over the steering wheel and dropped her forehead to the cool leather, trying to calm down.
But despair and grief welled up and burst free. She pressed her palms to her eyes, rocking back and forth as the sobs shattered her defenses. Was Marcus dead? Was Roseann? What about her baby? Were Leon and Nate after her?
Of course they were.
She couldn’t stop. It wasn’t over. She needed to get help. But where? Whom could she turn to?
Not Leon.
Not the police. She knew enough
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