Page 42 of Final Exit

The agents he was directing might not even know the real reason they were there. Porter could have given them any number of stories to get them to go to the hospital with him. Even now they could just be following orders. None of them had met Kade before. They had no reason to suspect he was one of them.

Three of the agents turned their backs to him and Bailey while the fourth pointed diagonally across another aisle. Maybe they’d spotted someone and thought it was Kade?

“This is our best chance, while they’re distracted,” he whispered to Bailey. “Let’s go.”

They both took off, crouching low as they ran across the open space to the next row of cars. No sounds of pursuit echoed behind them so they kept going, not stopping until they reached the Mustang.

Kade’s leg was throbbing so hard that the muscle was starting to spasm. He shoved the keys into Bailey’s hand while gritting his teeth against the pain.

“You have to drive,” he told her.

She glanced at his leg before dashing to the driver’s side while Kade got in on the passenger side.

They were careful to pull the doors shut as softly as possible. But they must have made more noise than they’d realized. A shout sounded from one of the agents, and they took off running toward the Mustang.

Bailey started the engine and shoved the car into reverse, then swore and slammed the brake.

“Go, go,” Kade urged.

“Can’t unless you want grandma grandpa splatter all over the back of the car.”

He looked over his shoulder. An elderly couple was slowly working their way behind the Mustang toward the hospital, one with a cane, the other with a walker. The front of the Mustang was blocked by another vehicle. They were trapped.

He whirled back around, facing the front. One of the agents was heading straight toward them. But he must have seen the couple, too, and at least had enough character not to involve them. His gun was out, but down by his thigh.

Kade turned again, watching the couple’s painfully slow progress.

As soon as they cleared the bumper, he yelled, “Now.”

Bailey punched the gas, tires squealing as she did a sharp turn, then slammed the gear into drive.

The windshield cracked as a gunshot rang out.

The couple screamed.

“Are they hurt?” Bailey yelled. She floored the accelerator and the car took off like a rocket toward the exit.

“No, just scared. Ah, hell.” He shoved Bailey down into the seat and threw himself on top of her as more shots rang out, shattering the back window into thousands of little pieces that rained down inside the car.

He jerked upright, grabbing the wheel just in time to avoid hitting another car.

Bailey straightened and shoved his hand off the steering wheel, then took a corner far too fast, the car lifting onto two wheels for a stomach-churning second before slamming back to earth.

More shots rang out, but none of them hit their mark. The Mustang screeched around the corner of the building, blocking the view of the parking lot and finally giving them some cover.

“There, turn there.” Kade pointed to the turnoff that led to the main road.

“Got it.” Bailey drove like a NASCAR driver on steroids, shifting gears and taking turns so fast that Kade was certain the car was going to roll. But through it all she maintained control, more or less.

Five minutes later they were barreling down the interstate. Kade pulled his cell phone out.

“What are you doing?”

Bailey’s voice was tight with alarm, which frustrated Kade to no end. Would she ever really trust him? Then again, Hawke was dead. She’d just found out that Sanchez, another Enforcer, was dead. And four agents, one of whom had been working for him for weeks, had just tried to kill them.

Yeah, maybe expecting her to trust him was stupid after all. He didn’t even trust himself. He hadn’t trusted himself in a long time.

“Maybe those agents found us because of Sanchez,” he said. “In fact, I’m betting they probably did and Porter’s our bad apple. But I’m not taking any chances. This is a company-issued phone.”