Brendan. Or the lane they were in. Maybe he was waiting for someone in the cafe. Maybe he was waiting for another call.
Definitely watching and waiting.
She checked the parking area. There was no-one else in her lane, no-one in the next, no-one close enough to hear her if she shouted. The guy by the blue sedan was her last chance. Trained people who wonât stop, Brendan had said. He also thought he had nano spiders in his head. Was any of it real? Some of it? Which bits?
As she passed the bumper of the car beside hers, the guy turned his face away. Forearm on the roof, phone still there â another person not wanting to make eye contact. Brendan steered her ahead of him between the two vehicles, pressed her back to the passenger door and released her hand to reach into his pocket for the keys. She looked to where the kids had played earlier. It was two car-lengths from here to the next lane. The gun was in his pocket. Could she make it?
âWe get in the way we got out.â Brendanâs voice was in her ear and something hard pressed into her thigh. Glancing down, she saw heâd taken out the gun, was holding it low and out of sight as he fumbled the keys on her ring.
No running, not with that there. Christ, she was going to end up back in the car with him. She took a brief glance over her shoulder, saw the guy by the blue sedan, his face turned towards them again. There was no mistaking it this time, even with the sunglasses. He wasnât bored with waiting and casting his eyes around. There was no attempt to shift his attention when she saw him. Not anything likeevery other person sheâd seen. He was watching them. Both of them. Taking in the whole scene as though heâd paid tickets to see it.
Jaxâs heart thumped. Trained people who wonât stop . He was tall, wide across the shoulders, lean. Mid-to-late thirties. Collar and tie, black-framed sunnies. He seemed cool, composed, alert: bad guy or bystander? Maybe he had a white coat in his back seat.
She jumped as her locks released, scooted sideways as Brendan reached around her for the door handle. He held her in place with the flat of his palm in the centre of her back, opened the car, pressed her forwards. Two seconds and sheâd be in the car again driving God knew where, possibly to Brendanâs death. Or hers.
As she reached the doorway, she reeled her head around. She figured the man would have looked away again, that sheâd have to get his attention, wave or shout and risk getting shot. But she didnât have to. His gaze was already there, as if heâd been waiting for her to turn. Heâd lifted the sunglasses and the eyes she hadnât been able to see were light in colour, steely and focused on her. Not Brendan, not both of them. Just her.
She met them with her own, felt a buzz of connection, as though his vision had an energy that had reached out and touched her. And without thinking about who he was or what he wanted, Jax mouthed two words across the space between them: Help me .
8
Then Jax was in the car, shunting across the passenger seat, lifting her legs over the gearstick with Brendan close behind. She glanced sideways as she pulled her seatbelt on, couldnât see the blue-sedan guy from there, wondered if sheâd made things better or worse. Or whether theyâd changed at all.
âCome on. Start the car.â Brendan was anxious again. Not the nano spider angst, just in a hurry to get out of the car park.
She backed out, caught sight of the guy. His sunnies were back on and he was talking into the phone again as he watched her vehicle pass. Brendan saw him too, turning his head to stare as the dark sedan disappeared behind them. God, she hoped the guy was talking to the police. Hoped the person on the other end wasnât âtrainedâ and waiting for Brendan on the motorway.
She paused at the exit, unnerved and ticked off that she was behind the wheel and heading for
Definitely watching and waiting.
She checked the parking area. There was no-one else in her lane, no-one in the next, no-one close enough to hear her if she shouted. The guy by the blue sedan was her last chance. Trained people who wonât stop, Brendan had said. He also thought he had nano spiders in his head. Was any of it real? Some of it? Which bits?
As she passed the bumper of the car beside hers, the guy turned his face away. Forearm on the roof, phone still there â another person not wanting to make eye contact. Brendan steered her ahead of him between the two vehicles, pressed her back to the passenger door and released her hand to reach into his pocket for the keys. She looked to where the kids had played earlier. It was two car-lengths from here to the next lane. The gun was in his pocket. Could she make it?
âWe get in the way we got out.â Brendanâs voice was in her ear and something hard pressed into her thigh. Glancing down, she saw heâd taken out the gun, was holding it low and out of sight as he fumbled the keys on her ring.
No running, not with that there. Christ, she was going to end up back in the car with him. She took a brief glance over her shoulder, saw the guy by the blue sedan, his face turned towards them again. There was no mistaking it this time, even with the sunglasses. He wasnât bored with waiting and casting his eyes around. There was no attempt to shift his attention when she saw him. Not anything likeevery other person sheâd seen. He was watching them. Both of them. Taking in the whole scene as though heâd paid tickets to see it.
Jaxâs heart thumped. Trained people who wonât stop . He was tall, wide across the shoulders, lean. Mid-to-late thirties. Collar and tie, black-framed sunnies. He seemed cool, composed, alert: bad guy or bystander? Maybe he had a white coat in his back seat.
She jumped as her locks released, scooted sideways as Brendan reached around her for the door handle. He held her in place with the flat of his palm in the centre of her back, opened the car, pressed her forwards. Two seconds and sheâd be in the car again driving God knew where, possibly to Brendanâs death. Or hers.
As she reached the doorway, she reeled her head around. She figured the man would have looked away again, that sheâd have to get his attention, wave or shout and risk getting shot. But she didnât have to. His gaze was already there, as if heâd been waiting for her to turn. Heâd lifted the sunglasses and the eyes she hadnât been able to see were light in colour, steely and focused on her. Not Brendan, not both of them. Just her.
She met them with her own, felt a buzz of connection, as though his vision had an energy that had reached out and touched her. And without thinking about who he was or what he wanted, Jax mouthed two words across the space between them: Help me .
8
Then Jax was in the car, shunting across the passenger seat, lifting her legs over the gearstick with Brendan close behind. She glanced sideways as she pulled her seatbelt on, couldnât see the blue-sedan guy from there, wondered if sheâd made things better or worse. Or whether theyâd changed at all.
âCome on. Start the car.â Brendan was anxious again. Not the nano spider angst, just in a hurry to get out of the car park.
She backed out, caught sight of the guy. His sunnies were back on and he was talking into the phone again as he watched her vehicle pass. Brendan saw him too, turning his head to stare as the dark sedan disappeared behind them. God, she hoped the guy was talking to the police. Hoped the person on the other end wasnât âtrainedâ and waiting for Brendan on the motorway.
She paused at the exit, unnerved and ticked off that she was behind the wheel and heading for
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