to him.
Val heard a resident yelling at the cops, demanding to know what was going on. His voice was joined by another as one of the policemen, or men posing as police, told everyone to stay in their homes. She took the opportunity to sidle into Chet’s bedroom and delicately shut the door, clicking the flimsy lock in place. She ran to the window and tried to pull it open quietly, but the damn thing stuck like it hadn’t been opened in years.
“Come on,” she whispered, strong-arming it open one inch at a time. It squeaked as she ratcheted it up. She had seconds before they noticed the noise. “Come on. Come on. ”
Finally she forced the window open enough to squeeze through. With her heart pounding so hard her ribs hurt, Val pushed herself through the tiny opening as the bedroom’s doorknob jiggled.
She stepped out onto a fire escape just as the bedroom door crashed open.
As fast as possible, she moved her arms and legs down the ladder, zigzagging the building’s flank on rungs slick from the unending Seattle rain. On the final section she slipped and fell hard onto her back, knocking the wind out of her for a moment. She gasped for breath as she scrambled to her feet, then looked up in time to see a head poking out of Chet’s window.
Sten. Fucking Sten. That son of a bitch. He was involved. And he was a murderer.
Val cried out when Sten stuck his gun out the window and fired at her. The fire escape prevented Sten from getting a clean shot, and the bullet clinked as it ricocheted. Val heard two more shots bank off the metal as she fled down the wet alleyway, then another that exploded the brick next to her head as she cut to the left, into another connecting alley.
Val sprinted down the narrow passage, crashing through mud puddles and leaping over bags of trash that littered her escape route. She followed the alley when it turned right, scanning her path for any opening into the street that might save her life. Before she found a way out, the alley dead-ended at a tarp-covered chain-link fence with barbed wire on top and a padlock trapping her inside.
“No!” Val yanked on the padlock. It didn’t budge. She tried the only door in the alley, a metal behemoth flush with the brick—locked. “Goddammit, no!” She kicked the door, and it barely moved.
Val pulled out her pistol and pressed herself into the corner of the alley’s dead end. She’d been in firefights before while in the military, though not against American citizens, and not alone. She didn’t stand much of a chance against two armed cops when she had nowhere to hide and no cover for support. In all her visions she’d never seen her own death. There was no reason this couldn’t be it.
But she’d be damned if she was going down without a fight.
Chapter Nine
V al planted her feet on the wet pavement, gun trained at the alleyway’s bend, ready to shoot the first thing that entered her line of sight. The rain picked up, an icy October shower that matted her hair to her face and would have chilled her to the bone if not for the wild adrenaline racing through her veins. For what seemed like an eternity she listened to the approaching footsteps and stood her ground, waiting to die.
Then she heard it—a chain rattling. Val ripped her gaze away from where her killers were due to arrive any second to see a set of bolt cutters slip through the fence and snap the padlock off. The chain slinked to the ground, and someone pulled the gate open.
One of her pursuers had somehow doubled back, and now they surrounded her.
Val spun around to face her flanker, finger on the trigger to let loose a hail of bullets into Sten or his friend’s smug face. She gasped and just barely stopped herself from firing as she registered Max Carressa standing in front of her, holding the bolt cutters and recoiling from her gun. She hardly recognized him in jeans and a black motorcycle jacket, a baseball cap deflecting the rain out of his startled face, though his
Val heard a resident yelling at the cops, demanding to know what was going on. His voice was joined by another as one of the policemen, or men posing as police, told everyone to stay in their homes. She took the opportunity to sidle into Chet’s bedroom and delicately shut the door, clicking the flimsy lock in place. She ran to the window and tried to pull it open quietly, but the damn thing stuck like it hadn’t been opened in years.
“Come on,” she whispered, strong-arming it open one inch at a time. It squeaked as she ratcheted it up. She had seconds before they noticed the noise. “Come on. Come on. ”
Finally she forced the window open enough to squeeze through. With her heart pounding so hard her ribs hurt, Val pushed herself through the tiny opening as the bedroom’s doorknob jiggled.
She stepped out onto a fire escape just as the bedroom door crashed open.
As fast as possible, she moved her arms and legs down the ladder, zigzagging the building’s flank on rungs slick from the unending Seattle rain. On the final section she slipped and fell hard onto her back, knocking the wind out of her for a moment. She gasped for breath as she scrambled to her feet, then looked up in time to see a head poking out of Chet’s window.
Sten. Fucking Sten. That son of a bitch. He was involved. And he was a murderer.
Val cried out when Sten stuck his gun out the window and fired at her. The fire escape prevented Sten from getting a clean shot, and the bullet clinked as it ricocheted. Val heard two more shots bank off the metal as she fled down the wet alleyway, then another that exploded the brick next to her head as she cut to the left, into another connecting alley.
Val sprinted down the narrow passage, crashing through mud puddles and leaping over bags of trash that littered her escape route. She followed the alley when it turned right, scanning her path for any opening into the street that might save her life. Before she found a way out, the alley dead-ended at a tarp-covered chain-link fence with barbed wire on top and a padlock trapping her inside.
“No!” Val yanked on the padlock. It didn’t budge. She tried the only door in the alley, a metal behemoth flush with the brick—locked. “Goddammit, no!” She kicked the door, and it barely moved.
Val pulled out her pistol and pressed herself into the corner of the alley’s dead end. She’d been in firefights before while in the military, though not against American citizens, and not alone. She didn’t stand much of a chance against two armed cops when she had nowhere to hide and no cover for support. In all her visions she’d never seen her own death. There was no reason this couldn’t be it.
But she’d be damned if she was going down without a fight.
Chapter Nine
V al planted her feet on the wet pavement, gun trained at the alleyway’s bend, ready to shoot the first thing that entered her line of sight. The rain picked up, an icy October shower that matted her hair to her face and would have chilled her to the bone if not for the wild adrenaline racing through her veins. For what seemed like an eternity she listened to the approaching footsteps and stood her ground, waiting to die.
Then she heard it—a chain rattling. Val ripped her gaze away from where her killers were due to arrive any second to see a set of bolt cutters slip through the fence and snap the padlock off. The chain slinked to the ground, and someone pulled the gate open.
One of her pursuers had somehow doubled back, and now they surrounded her.
Val spun around to face her flanker, finger on the trigger to let loose a hail of bullets into Sten or his friend’s smug face. She gasped and just barely stopped herself from firing as she registered Max Carressa standing in front of her, holding the bolt cutters and recoiling from her gun. She hardly recognized him in jeans and a black motorcycle jacket, a baseball cap deflecting the rain out of his startled face, though his
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