Savage (16 page)

J
enna paced
the living room of the suite, her stomach and heart in knots. She’d known she would have to tell Farrell about Lily. She just didn’t think he’d find out before she did.

She should have known better.

Farrell was not a man to leave things to chance. She was lucky the letter she’d left him had done its job. If he’d decided to dig into her life before now, he would have found out about Lily despite her attempts to keep their lives private.

She’d been startled by the fury in his eyes after their last twelve hours together. She’d already gotten used to the Farrell she remembered, and his sudden coldness cut her to the bone. But she deserved it, which made what she saw underneath it even more painful.

Hurt. Anguish. Loss.

She’d done that to him. By trying to protect Lily, she’d hurt Farrell. And that was something she’d never wanted to do.

Would he forgive her? She still didn’t know what the future held for them, if she could reconcile his lifestyle with her hopes for the future. But he was Lily’s father, and he deserved to be in her life if that’s what he wanted. Lily deserved him, too. To his enemies, he was a violent man, a dangerous man. But he loved just as fiercely as he fought, and she knew he would protect Lily with his life.

She would have to find a way forward. Beg his forgiveness. Find a way to introduce him to Lily. To welcome him into their daughter’s life. Whether or not she could welcome him into her own remained to be seen.

She was debating texting him when the door opened, and he slipped into the room.

“Thank god!” she started, rushing toward him. “I was so — ”

He put a hand over her mouth, his eyes cold and calm. “Don’t say anything. Don’t ask questions. Just get your ID, your passport, and those papers from your father’s safe deposit box. And put on shoes.”

He hurried to the coffee table where she’d put the envelope containing the pictures of Lily. Shoving them in his coat, he headed toward the bedroom, then turned to look at her.

“What are you waiting for, Jenna? Do as I say.” He disappeared into the room that contained his things.

She hurried into the other bedroom, digging out her wallet and keys and shoving both into the pockets of her jeans. She slipped on her shoes and picked up her father’s papers from the dresser. Then she zipped up her jacket and shoved the papers inside. She had no idea what was going on, but when Farrell said move, when he acted like there was something to fear, you listened.

He took her arm as she emerged from the bedroom. When he spoke it was low and careful, and she knew instinctively that what he was about to say was important. “There are six men on their way up here. I don’t know what they want, but I’m guessing it has something to do with those papers. We’re going to — ”

“You don’t know that,” Jenna interrupted, unwilling to believe that after all she’d done to protect Lily, it would be her who brought danger to their door. “In your business, it could be anybody.”

He nodded tightly. “I don’t think so, but it’s possible. Either way, we’re in trouble. Four of those men are going to rappel their way up the side of the building. They’ll be over the balcony railing any minute. The other two are either in the elevator on their way up or in the stairwell. If you want to get out of here alive, you’ll do exactly as I say. Got it?”

A new thought occurred to her, one that made it hard to breathe. “Lily…”

His eyes turned fiery. “Don’t worry about Lily. No one will lay a hand on her. Now stay behind me.”

He removed his gun from the holster at his side and crossed the room, put his ear against the door, then opened it a crack and peered into the hallway before waving her forward. She slipped out of the room behind him, hurrying down the hall at his back. He passed the elevators and headed for the stairwell. When they reached it, he listened at the door before turning to her.

“Take off your shoes,” he ordered already taking his off. She took them off and held them in her left hand. “Follow me. And don’t make a sound.”

They entered the stairwell, and Jenna immediately knew why he’d told her to take off her shoes; someone was making their way up from the bottom. They were still some distance below, but the sound of feet on the metal stairs was getting louder as they approached the sixth floor.

Her heart hammered in her chest as she hurried down the stairs after Farrell, careful not to knock the metal banister or hit the treads too hard. When they reached the fifth floor landing, Farrell carefully opened the door leading to the hall and waved her through, pulling it shut quietly behind them. Then he waved her to the other side of the door and leaned against the wall, his finger on the trigger of his weapon.

The sound of clattering metal sounded from inside the stairwell. Jenna held her breath as it got closer.

Closer…

Then it was right there on the other side of the door. She held her breath, half expecting whoever it was to burst into the hall. But a couple seconds later she heard the footsteps moving away, upward toward the sixth floor they’d just left.

When it grew quiet, Farrell opened the door, cleared the space with his gun in hand, and waved her forward. They hurried down the steps, still being quiet even though it didn’t sound like anyone else was in the stairwell. They exited on the first floor and hurried to the back of the hotel. When they got to the doors of the kitchen, Farrell stopped, put on his shoes, and told her to do the same. She did it in a hurry, and then they were through the door and into the heat and noise of the hotel’s kitchen.

Farrell grabbed her hand. “Don't let go.”

He headed for the back, confidence in every step. She was surprised when no one stopped them, although some of the aproned employees stared. It was a product of Farrell’s presence, which had nothing to do with performance and everything to do with his total belief that he was entitled to do anything he pleased. They wove their way through metal prep tables, deep sinks, and steaming cooktops without being questioned once. Farrell had just opened the door marked Exit when the first shot rang out.

She cringed instinctively, ducking as adrenaline shot through her bloodstream like water through a broken dam. Farrell shoved her behind him and returned fire. The shots echoed through the sprawling kitchen space, and the employees of the hotel hit the floor amid a chorus of screams and curse words.

As soon as Farrell was done firing, he shoved her through the door. Cold and bracing, the night air was a shock to her system, and she sucked in a deep breath as Farrell grabbed her hand and pulled her along the building. His posture was low and stooped as he scanned the area, but he seemed in total command of the situation, completely unafraid. He was in his element, at home even as he was being hunted and shot at.

She didn’t have time to think about what that meant.

They rounded the corner of the hotel and hurried toward a parking lot. She was almost surprised not to hear shots ring out behind her, but so far their pursuers were still a few steps behind. When they got to the parking lot, Farrell stuck to the shadows, avoiding the pools of light cast by the street lamps spaced twenty feet apart. He looked at every car they passed, finally stopping at something black and low to the ground.

“Come on.” He led her toward the driver’s side. “Turn around.”

“What? Why?”

“Just do it,” he ordered.

She did, and a moment later she heard a dull thud and crunch, followed by the shrieking of the car’s alarm. When she turned around, the window on the driver’s side was cracked but still intact. Farrell used the butt of his gun to hit it again. It broke inward, the tempered glass sticking together even as it splintered. She looked behind them, expecting to see the men who’d been chasing them, the police, someone who had heard the alarm.

The parking lot was still empty, and when she turned back to the car, Farrell was hitting it again. It took one more blow before a hole emerged that was big enough to put his hand through.

“Get in,” he ordered, unlocking the doors and scooting under the steering wheel.

She hurried to the other side and slid into the passenger seat. “What are you doing?” she asked, shutting the door.

“Getting us out of here.” He pulled off the panel that covered the steering column and started tugging at wires.

“What about the other car?” she asked. “The one you have keys to?”

“Too risky,” he said, obviously distracted. “They might have someone watching it. Besides, I don’t know where the valet parked it.”

Her eyes caught movement through the windshield just before she saw the flash of gunfire, heard it rip through the quiet night. One of the bullets sparked against the pavement, and she heard the ping of metal as another one hit the car somewhere near the front.

“Motherfucker!” Farrell shouted.

She raised her head in time to see a group of men moving swiftly toward them, all of them dressed in black and holding frighteningly big guns.

“They’re coming,” she said. “Are you sure we shouldn’t — ”

The car started with a rumble, and Farrell sat up and pulled the door closed.

“Keep your head down,” he said, backing up in a screech of tires and pivoting to face the lot’s exit.

She lowered her head as a volley of gunfire burst out in front of them. When she dared to look, she saw that one of the bullets had lodged in the corner of the windshield, a series of cracks rippling outward from the impact. But that was the least of their problems.

The men firing at them were blocking the exit.

“Buckle your seat belt,” Farrell ordered.

She barely had time to click it in place when another round of gunfire erupted in front of them. She ducked as Farrell made a hard left, barreling over the curb and onto the grass. She sat up as he flew off the curb and into traffic, narrowly missing a motorcycle preparing to make a turn at the light.

She braced herself on the dash as he hit the gas, accelerating to a hundred and seventy kilometers an hour and weaving in and out of traffic.

She glanced back. “Who was that?”

“I don’t know,” he said, his eyes on the rearview mirror. “But it wasn’t a social call.”

She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

“Let’s just get out of here,” he said. “At the moment, I’m more concerned with preventing our assassination than trying to figure out who’s pulling the trigger.”

He had a point. She sat back and tried to catch her breath. She was just beginning to believe they’d lost their pursuers when Farrell swore under his breath. She looked over to find him staring at the rearview mirror.

“What is it?”

“We’ve got company,” he said, making a hard right onto another boulevard. “We have to lose them before we go to the airport. We’ll be too exposed outside the city.”

She scanned the dash. “Where’s the GPS?”

“Doesn't have one,” he said. “Too old. It’s the only reason I was able to hot wire it.”

“Great.” She looked in the side mirror and spotted a black van turning the corner at a high rate of speed. “They’re back.”

He nodded, turning left into a short alley. He pulled his phone from his pocket as he made another left. She was disoriented, losing track of where they were, how far they’d traveled from the hotel.

“Be ready for us in twenty minutes,” he said calmly into the phone. “And when I say ready, I mean engine on and flight plan filed.”

He put the phone away, then hit the brakes so hard that for a split second, her body felt weightless. She was about to ask what was going on, but when she looked through the windshield she saw the problem. They’d turned into a dead end, nothing but a brick wall in front of them.

Panic was beginning to well inside her. They were trapped, and she was a country away from Lily, might never see her again, and all because she’d been so determined to find out what her father was hiding.

“Hold on,” Farrell said.

She barely had time to comply before they were reversing, the speedometer creeping up over forty kilometers an hour as they zipped backward the way they came. Jenna held on, expecting Farrell to reduce his speed as he approached the opening to the alley.

He didn’t.

Instead he pressed harder on the gas, picking up speed as they closed in on the turn that would take them clear of the alley. She was almost prepared for the crunch of metal on metal that happened when they hit the van, just beginning to turn into the street after them.

Almost.

The van was bigger than the car they were driving, but they had the advantage of speed, and the impact seemed to shock whoever was driving the van. Farrell didn’t even slow down, just shifted from Reverse into Drive and sped away with his eyes on the rearview mirror.

They careened out of the side street onto a main boulevard, lit yellow from the streetlights. Farrell went less than a quarter of a kilometer before he turned left, then right, then right again. She had no idea where they were as he made a series of high speed turns that wound them through the city. She could hardly breath, had her eyes glued to the side mirror as she watched for the appearance of the black van.

Ten minutes later, he pulled onto the highway and the city fell behind them. Neither of them spoke until he pulled through the gates of the charter terminal. He sped across the tarmac, ignoring an airport worker waving a flashing baton, trying to direct them to a parking area away from the planes. He flew down the runway, aiming for a plane with its lights on at the end. When they got there, he reached over, undid her seatbelt.

“Let’s go.”

By the time she got out, he was there, taking her hand and hustling her onto the waiting the plane. The pilot who’d flown them in the day before shut the door behind them and hurried to the front of the plane. They were moving down the runway less than a minute later.

Farrell hurriedly guided her to one of the seats, sat her down, buckled her seat belt.

“Where are we going?” she asked, numbness starting to seep in around her panic.

He touched her face. “We’re going to get our daughter.”