Page 133 of Crossover

Maybe that was the right move. Take them out, get myself out of this alive, and come up with an alternative plan.

When I looked around for any security guards, I spotted the CIA operatives, cornered by two of Vosch’s men who’d crossed the distance to them quickly. And now, at least thirty small children would be in the crosshairs of bullets if Vosch’s men chose to fire after me. Even the platform in front of us that led us to the train was crowded with people.

The sickening realization hit me like an arrow to a nerve: There was no clean escape. Any resistance would turn this bustling station into a killing field.

So, no. There was only one way forward. Onto that train, trapped with the most dangerous man in the world, with no way out.

74

GRAYSON

The train doors hissed open like a steel tomb, ready to swallow me whole.

“Where are you taking me?” I demanded as we stepped inside.

Vosch and his goons commandeered the front of the cabin, claiming the benches like thrones.

My gaze darted repeatedly to the train’s door, calculating my odds of being able to make it off before the train got moving, but a stream of passengers filled the aisles, settling into seats, unwitting obstacles in my path to salvation. Or worse, collateral damage should this all go to hell.

With a lurch, the moment for escape was gone. The train growled to life, wheels grinding against rails in an accelerating rhythm, theclack-clack, clack-clacka mechanical heartbeat pulsing toward disaster.

“Milwaukee,” Vosch replied.

“What’s in Milwaukee?”

“A safe distance between us and what’s about to happen in Chicago.”

My mouth instantly dried, his phrase—“what’s about to happen”—repeating in a loop in my mind. One phrase inparticular—“about to”—sending an avalanche of ice over my spine. We knew he was planning something and suspected it might be on the “L” train—unless asking for the emergency protocols wasonlya test, and they were targeting somewhere else. But I’d been desperately hoping the intel was wrong—that we had more time.

Were precautions in place? Yes. But this…this sounded definite—and worst of all, imminent. Like it was going down right this second, and if that were the case, we should have evacuated all “L” trains.

And if they hadn’t changed emergency protocols thesecondVosch had received them from me, his men would be one step ahead, sealing the fates of everyone on board. Women and children included.

Even if theychangedprotocols, it might be too late.

I had to get word out to the CIA. But how?

Vosch’s cell phone rang, and while he went through a series ofmmmsandokays…I searched for a method to alert law enforcement. Maybe I could reach the conductor and have him place out a distress call. Or maybe I could grab a cell phone from one of Vosch’s associates.

“Looks like the information you provided was accurate,” Vosch praised.

But there was no way I could race to the front without one of his men chasing me, armed and ready for a fight. If he killed the conductor, all the people on this train would be dead.

“I told you it was,” I said curtly. “Now, let me off.”

“I’m afraid the next stop is not for another forty-five minutes,” Vosch said.

Shit.

I couldn’t wait forty-five minutes to get help; people on the “L” train might be dead by then. I needed to act now.

First step: kill Vosch.

“Why are you doing this?” I shifted in my seat to face him slightly. In other words, to bring my wrist closer to his body. “It can’t all be about money.”

Vosch laced his fingers together and put his hands behind his head, leaning back in the seat.

Shit. Maybe I’d have to go for his thigh, hope the poisonous edge pierced the fabric.

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