Unhidden (The Gatekeeper Chronicles Book 1) (17 page)

“What is it?” Jason asked.

“There are federal agents downstairs, backed with a contingent of Black Ops soldiers, looking for Emma. You two have to get out of here, and you must retrieve the weapon, or all is lost. What do you say, Emma? Do we have a deal?”

There’s nothing like mortal danger and an imminent deadline to refocus my priorities. I came back to my senses, my mind frantically running through my options.

Jason squeezed my hand urgently. “Emma, don’t let him pressure you into a decision. For all we know, there’s no one downstairs, and this is just a tactic he’s using to force your hand.”

Nathan’s phone beeped, and he looked at the incoming text message. “Unfortunately, Mr. Ryker, this is not a ploy. They are in the elevator and will be here in less than two minutes. What’s it going to be, Miss Hayes? Do you want answers?”

I no longer had a choice. As soon as he had revealed that he knew my mother, I had made my decision. “Yes, I’ll work for you, but only after you tell me everything I want to know.”

“Agreed, but first you must recover the weapon and bring it back to me. I will teach you how to use it.” He quickly grabbed a Post-It note from his desk and wrote something on it, handing it to me. “This is where you will find it. Now, come with me.” He darted to a door at the far end of the room I hadn’t noticed before. It was camouflaged with the same wood paneling that ran along the length of the wall. Pulling it open revealed a metal and cement stairwell. “This will take you down to the parking garage. I have someone who can help waiting for you with a car.”

Ding
. The elevator signaled its arrival on Nathan’s floor. Jason and I flew down the staircase as Nathan sealed the door behind us.

“W
hy the hell is the government after you?” Jason panted as we raced down the steps. We were both in great shape, but even going down the stairs, fifty-six flights at breakneck speed was still plenty to get us winded.

“I have … no … idea,” I said between breaths. “But, if it’s really Black Ops … we’re … screwed.” Black Operations could be carried out by any qualified branch of the military; as a result, I didn’t know who exactly we would be dealing with. However, these were highly covert operations involving activities that required plausible deniability because of their questionable ethics and legality. If someone classified this mission as a Black Ops, it meant someone was trying to cream our corn, as Jason would say.

When we reached the thirtieth floor, I heard dim pounding and clanging sounds echoing from the stairwell above us. “They’re on us,” Jason said, stating the obvious. We increased the pace, leaping four and five steps at a time, and cut corners by vaulting over the railings onto the next set of steps below us. We reached the garage level in minutes, throwing ourselves into the steel door, slamming it open. We slowed, looking around frantically for the car Nathan had said would be waiting for us.

“There’s a subway two blocks from here,” I urged when the car didn’t immediately show.

“No way. They’ll have all of the exits watched. They’ll be on us as soon as we step foot outside.”

Jason was right, but those soldiers would be bursting through that door in moments. The stomping sounds of feet on steps grew louder with every heartbeat. “Jason, we can’t stay here. We have to hide if we can’t run.”

“Motherfucker framed us!” Jason shouted, punching the nearest car.

If that was true, Nathan Anshar was going on my personal hit list, if I didn’t get hit first. “Jason, we need to move now!” I glanced over my shoulder at the door. It was beginning to rattle from the vibrations of men barreling down the last of the steps.

Grabbing Jason’s arm, we began to run when a gray BMW M6 came to a screeching halt in front of us. The black tinted driver’s side window slid down, revealing the bright red hair and flame tattoo of Lilly Alfreda.

“Get in,” she shouted.

It didn’t take any more encouragement than that before we were in the backseat, slamming the car door just as the Black Ops soldiers burst into the garage and opened fire on us with MP5 sub-machine guns. I instinctively ducked, moving away from the windows, but the 9-millimeter rounds ricocheted off the bulletproof glass. Lilly stepped on the gas, throwing me against the seat as she pealed out of the garage.

“You okay back there?” It wasn’t Lilly’s voice that came from the front seat; it was Alex’s. I sat up and met his eyes as he peered over the passenger seat at me. He read my thoughts while I looked between him and Lilly. “I’ll explain later.”

“Yes, you will. In the meantime, I’d feel better with a weapon in my hands.”

“Lift the seat cushion,” Lilly directed.

Jason and I knelt on the floor and pried up the seat, finding a store of handguns, rifles, and grenades.

“I think I’m in love with you,” Jason said to Lilly as he reached into the cache to caress a Kalashnikov rifle.

She giggled girlishly, which seemed incongruous coming from a woman driving a speeding vehicle through the streets of New York City at two a.m. while being pursued by government operatives.

Jason claimed the Kalashnikov, while I opted for an M16 rifle with grenade launcher, slinging a grenade belt across my chest. I also shoved two Colt 1911 handguns into my waistband and filled my pockets with extra ammunition. Our attempted escape was not going to be subtle.

Lilly was doing an impressive job of swerving around yellow cabs and cutting through intersections without killing any pedestrians. Peering out the rear window, I counted three black Ford SUVs tight on our tail. Even with the faster car, we would never escape them in these tight streets. At this hour, plenty of cars and people were still out and about. It would be a miracle if there wasn’t any collateral damage.

“We can’t open fire on them here. We either have to lose them or get out of the city.”

“How about both?” Lilly suggested.

When she turned sharply onto 1st Avenue, heading downtown, one of the SUVs took advantage of the wider, less trafficked avenue to pull alongside us. The driver jerked the wheel sharply and rammed into the BMW. I fell into Jason as we both tumbled across the seat upon impact. Lilly kept us from careening off the road, and Jason and I took advantage of the opportunity to fasten our seatbelts.

Another of the SUVs plowed into our rear, snapping us all forward. Pain shot through my neck, and a dull ache began at the base of my skull. Lilly pulled the wheel to left, throwing us into a controlled three hundred sixty-degree spin. Before coming to a complete stop, she straightened the car and stepped on the gas. The SUV was now in front of us as we approached a section of roadway under construction, lined with concrete barriers and orange cones. Lilly sped up and clipped the SUV in the rear left bumper, causing him to swerve wildly into the concrete barriers. The entire front end of the car crumpled, and then it flipped onto its roof.

Lilly hung a sharp left onto the Williamsburg Bridge, swerving the car back and forth, trying to prevent either of the remaining SUVs from coming up alongside us. With us out in the open on the mostly deserted bridge, I unbuckled my seatbelt and rolled down the window. Then I leaned out precariously, trying to brace myself by wedging my foot under the driver seat, and opened fire with the rifle. When the bullets bounced off it harmlessly, I adjusted my aim and went for the tires.

Before any of my shots could hit home, a soldier dressed in black camouflage with black face paint stood up through the SUV’s sunroof and shouldered his machine gun. I felt a hand tightening on my jeans, and Jason tugged me back into the safety of the car right as bullets came raining down on us. The rear window shattered under the barrage. It didn’t break, but it was impossible to see through given all the spider vein cracks running through it.

Jason leveraged himself with his back against the front seat and used his long, powerful legs to kick out the rear window, regaining our visibility to the two cars still following us. This time, we did have to duck when gunfire erupted in our direction.

I screamed to Alex and Lilly, afraid a bullet would strike one of them through the seats. Alex was on it, erecting a shimmering shield where the rear window had been. Bullets hit it harmlessly, creating ripples in the shield like a rock tossed into a pond. That bought me the few precious moments I needed to load the grenade launcher.

“Alex, on my signal,” I shouted to him over my shoulder. Taking careful aim out the back window, with bullets still flying at us, I yelled, “Now!” Alex dropped the shield. I depressed the trigger at the same moment, and the grenade streaked through the night air.

I had aimed for the closest SUV, but the driver attempted to avoid the grenade by swerving to the right. It hit the undercarriage of the car and exploded, sending the vehicle into the air and tumbling over the edge of the bridge. We were almost to the end of it, keeping the SUV from plummeting thousands of feet into the East River. Instead, it fell only a few stories and hit the sloping ground a couple feet from the water, becoming engulfed in flames.

We made it off the bridge, and Lilly took several sharp turns, bringing us to an area that was darkened perceptibly compared to the bright lights of the bridge and busy Manhattan streets behind us. The hunkering shapes of cargo ships and cranes loomed ahead, which helped me identify this place as the Brooklyn Navy Yard. She sped through the yard, weaving around shipping containers, forklifts, and other machinery.

As she came around the corner of a low warehouse building, we found ourselves barreling down the street directly toward a figure standing resolute in the middle of the roadway. The figure didn’t even twitch, making no move at all to dive out of the way of our speeding vehicle.

Lilly screamed and slammed on the brakes. We were all thrown forward, the pain in my neck now shooting down my back. I was going to need some massive muscle relaxants after all that had happened.

The tires squealed and I could smell burning rubber, but we came to a stop about twenty feet from the figure. Pissed off, I threw open the back door, pulling a Colt handgun from my waistband.

“What the fuck, asshole!” I yelled, stomping toward the man with my gun aimed squarely at his forehead. My steps faltered as I got closer and the figure became recognizable. “Fuck me,” I breathed. “Zane.”

He was once again dressed all in black, and I couldn’t help noticing how his clothing hugged his body, accentuating every curve of hard muscle. His long hair was loose around his head, and a few strands were blowing gently across his eyes.

Those eyes! They were watching me with a feverish intensity, drinking me in from head to toe. I flushed at the heat his gaze sent through my body. Even under these circumstances, his mere presence caused my body to short circuit my brain.

I could hear car doors opening, and Alex and Jason appeared on either side of me.

“Zane,” Alex said, in much the same tone I had used. “Move away. We have to get out of here, or we’re all dead.”

Zane was unmoved by the urgent plea, making no attempt to let us pass.

“I say we just run the fucker down,” Jason said.

I wasn’t inclined to damage such a fine specimen, but we needed to move, and fast. The narrow road was lined on both sides with warehouses. There wasn’t enough room to pass without harming him.

Just then, Lilly leaned on the horn, letting loose a long honking wail. All heads spun in her direction. She was hanging out the driver’s side window yelling, “They’re here!” Pinpricks of light were visible against the blanket of blackness and grew into the blinding glare of headlights as the car closed the distance. “Get in,” Lilly screamed over the growing rumble of an accelerating engine.

Alex grabbed my elbow to steer me back to the waiting vehicle. Seeing Alex touch me, snapped Zane to attention. “Alex,” Zane boomed. “Don’t touch her. She’s mine!”

Zane leapt forward, and before anyone could react, he slammed Alex in the jaw with a left hook. When Alex stumbled and lost his grip on my arm, Zane grabbed me and threw me over his shoulder. The caveman treatment stunned me into inaction, not to mention I had to place my hands on his lower back, near his perfect rear. I almost forgot I was still holding a gun and could have shot Zane at any time, but I didn’t want to do that.

I clutched his waistband and slid myself forward, throwing off Zane’s balance as I redistributed most of weight behind him. While he stumbled and took two steps backward, I stiffened my legs, breaking his hold on them, and flipped myself over his shoulder to land on my feet behind him.

Headlights and machine gun fire exploded in the night as the black SUV finally caught up to us. Lilly dove back into the car, and I ran in a crouch to take cover on the far side of the vehicle with Alex and Jason.

Zane didn’t move a muscle, although hiding probably wasn’t in his repertoire. His eyes and hands began to glow red, and he slammed a fireball into the oncoming SUV’s gas tank. The vehicle went up in flames in an ear-splitting explosion that lit up the night sky like it was dawn. Then Jason was at my side, hauling me up and trying to get the passenger side door open. Billows of heat and smoke blew through the enclosed space, choking and suffocating us.