Page 59 of Captivated with Them

We kept going, crossing lane after lane of the parking lot, closing the distance between us and the terminal. From one of the runways came the deep roar of an airplane taking off.

I suddenly became aware the roar wasn’t only that of the plane.

An SUV—not the one with the windshield shot out, but a different one—pulled up in front of us, and Frankie Capello jumped out. With the vehicle blocking the way, we had no choice but to draw to a sudden halt.

I let out a cry of fear.

Kodee stepped forward, placing his body between me and Frankie. We’d left the gun back in the ambulance, and none of us was armed. He was protecting me with the last thing he had—himself.

“How did you know we would be here?” Kodee demanded, perhaps hoping that by keeping Frankie talking, it would give us a chance to get away.

Frankie’s lip curled in a cold smile. In his hand was a gun. “Of course I knew you’d be coming here. Don’t treat me like an idiot.”

From the other side of the SUV, someone else climbed out. Otis. My heart sank further.

“So, you’re just going to shoot us, out here in the open?” Dillon asked, stepping forward as well.

Ryan joined his side. “You’re going to need three bullets, then.”

I moved to stand beside Ryan. “No, you’ll need four.” I reached down and slipped my fingers through Ryan’s.

Another noise caught my attention, and I frowned, glancing in the direction it was coming from.

A second vehicle hurtled toward us.

It was the ambulance.

I caught sight of Gordon’s ruddy face behind the wheel, and he leaned out of the driver’s window as he drove right at us. Like Frankie, he held something in his hand. Gunfire cracked through the air, and I screamed instinctively and ducked down, my arms shielding my head.

Gordon must have picked up the gun before he’d shut the rear doors of the ambulance.

Frankie returned fire, but Gordon kept shooting, even as he got closer, increasing the likelihood of being shot himself.

Frankie jerked backward, hitting the side of his vehicle. One of Gordon’s bullets had found its mark and hit Frankie in the throat. Frankie clutched at his neck and slid to the ground. The ambulance kept going, speeding past us, and Otis chased after it, firing more shots. But Gordon had a good start on him and quickly increased the distance between them.

Gordon had saved us.

Dillon looked down at Frankie Capello’s body, slumped against the vehicle. Frankie’s chest and shoulder were covered in an apron of blood, and he made a strange gurgling as the light died from his eyes.

“He’s dead,” Dillon announced. “We need to go before the cops get here.”

We ran, Ryan keeping up, moving surprisingly fast for someone who was on crutches. Otis didn’t come after us. Knowing the police would be called, he probably didn’t want to get caught up in this mess, either. I kept my eyes peeled for any security cameras, but in this no-man’s land between the parking entrance, I didn’t see any.

That changed the moment we got closer to the airport, however, and we all instinctively ducked our heads, trying to shield our faces.

We entered the terminal and hurried up to the Delta desk. The terminal was busy, and we were quickly swallowed by the mass of people, all either queuing, or lingering, or rushing around with stressed-out expressions. I guessed it wasn’t unusual to see people running here. Plenty of people must end up racing to try to catch their flight. I kept checking over my shoulder for any sign that Frankie’s men might pursue us but so far, nobody was coming. I assumed they had their hands full with their dead boss, and most likely the police arriving.

We reached the front of the line, and Kodee slammed down four passports and his credit card. “Four tickets for whichever flight we can get on next.”

I had the feeling both the passports and the credit card wouldn’t be in any name I recognized.

The woman behind the desk frowned, her gaze flicking between us. We probably looked suspicious as hell, but even if we were pulled over, there was nothing on us they could do us for—with the exception of the fake passports, of course.

She checked her computer.

“I have four seats on a flight leaving for Madrid in the next hour,” she suggested.

Madrid. Spain. Sunshine and sangria.

“Perfect,” Kodee said. “We’ll take them.”

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