The Jeep catches up quick enough, at the most opportune place. Grabbing the fully loaded Glock tucked in the kick well, behind the steering wheel, I accelerate, U-turning as fast as I can to face the oncoming Jeep. They react too slow.
Keeping the steering wheel stabilised with my elbow, I take a quick-glance aim and fire as they scrape between the Discovery and a row of ancient oaks. The driver’s side airbags trigger, causing the car to veer off the road into the sudden ditch. Reversing straight to the edge of the pit, I jump out, taking out my semi-loaded Glock from earlier in case my shot was a miss.
There’s no point in holding court. I take them out through the open passenger window.
Unable to leave them here like this, I grab the jerry can in the back of the Discovery as I light a couple of cigarettes at once. The hit tightens my chest, lightening my head while I douse the bodies, trailing the petrol to the fuel cap, unscrewing it before I stand back and light the whole thing up with the smokes.
The adrenaline is coursing through me so fast that I have to take a moment before I get back on the road. I watch the flames catch, flickering hungrily as they chase the petrol trail to the cap, and the entire tank cracks loudly before it blows like desert thunder, punching through me with a satisfaction that makes my dry laugh erupt in jagged breaths.
“Proshchay.” Goodbye, I tell the blaze that blackens the white-and-blue marled sky as I get in the car and carry on.
The thicket becomes deeper and denser with tall trees that, even bare, hide the ocean view. Taking the phone off mute, I turn onto the winding road that will lead to the cottage.
“Ryan.”
“Deadshot,” he says. My code name. Something he does when I go against his morals and boundaries.
Ryan has limits. He’s good like that. When I take action he doesn’t agree with, he compartmentalises it by assigning the deed away from Casper, his friend, and to Deadshot, his superior.
Whatever makes him feel better or sleep better. They’re two sides of the same coin, and one is leveraged on the other. Just because you can’t see one doesn’t mean it’s not there. Out of sight is not inexistent.
Halfway down the hill, it gets steep and tight enough that I have to close my wing mirrors.
“Get Cameron down there,” he tells me.
Joseph Cameron is another squaddie from when we were deployed in Syria on a black-ops mission supporting the Secret Intelligence Service. It went tits up. The intel was compromised, making us open targets. Our resources were limited; it was killed or be killed. Innocent or not…it didn’t matter. We did what we had to do to get out with our lives intact.
Unfortunately for Cameron, there always needs to be a scapegoat. It couldn’t be me, and Ryan’s father made sure it wasn’t him or his brother, Luke—our medic—either. But Cameron, he had no one but us. In the end it didn’t matter that we got him out of the firing line. He was too fucked in the head. Disenfranchised is what they called him.
I can’t be the one to drag him into a war he might not survive.
“No. You’re the only one who knows where we are, and we’re keeping it that way.” Parking the car, I switch to my handset before I kill
the engine.
“You don’t trust him?”
“He’s had a hard enough time settling back in. I don’t want to make it harder.” My eyes fall back on the bag with the bunny, and like the woman in the shop, I run my fingers over the soft fur. The silkiness is soothing, and I wonder if it will have the same effect for the baby.
“Maybe this is what he needs.”
“Ryan, I can’t risk…” I can’t risk him having another breakdown like the one he had with his ex-wife. He almost killed her and their newborn son.
“I know, but he doesn’t have to go near Fleur. He can help at a distance. I don’t know. Think about it.”
“Fine, but until then—”
“I’ll get someone on the mess.”
“Thanks,” I tell him, stuffing the bunny back in the bag and getting out of the car. “How are they?”
“Who?”
I haven’t really asked much about anyone, except Arabella, because my guilt is still eating up at me even though my decision was more than justified. Everything else is about staying on top of what’s happening so I can figure out how to fix things and protect Fleur and the baby.
“George and Mum.”
“I’m not really sure about Mercy. I mean, I don’t see her. But Georgina is fine.” He clears his throat, meaning he’s keeping something from me.