Page 57 of Lost Hope

Ronan’s voice cut through her earpiece: “Golf Shirt is moving your way, Maya. Get clear.”

The officer’s radio crackled again with demands for backup. She thrust Maya’s ID back at her. “Stay in public areas,” sheordered, already moving toward the growing chaos at Muscle Beach.

Maya waited three heartbeats before slipping through the café’s service entrance. The blast of air conditioning raised goosebumps on her sun-heated skin. Through her earpiece, she heard Christian’s satisfied grunt. “That’s right, brother, show them how much you can lift. No, no—form’s all wrong. Here, let me ...”

“Golf Shirt just badged the local cops on the corner.” Ronan’s voice was barely a whisper. “Looks like they’re setting up a checkpoint on Rose Avenue.”

Maya moved through the kitchen, nodding to a startled prep cook as she passed.

Her phone vibrated: Bishop to king’s level. Time check.

Griffin was directing her upstairs, warning her to hurry.

“They’re searching phones at the checkpoint,” Christian reported between shouted encouragement to his impromptu weightlifting competition. “Looking for specific numbers.”

Maya found the stairs, taking them two at a time. Below, she heard Ronan’s sharp intake of breath. “Board Shorts just made me. Moving to secondary exit.”

She paused to delete Griffin’s texts. The upper floor was dim after the bright alley, scattered chess tables occupied by serious-faced players. No Griffin. But there, on a table near the fire escape: a knight piece lying on its side. Queen’s bishop 4—fourth table from the left wall.

“Checkpoint’s got dogs now,” Christian’s voice was tight. “Time to bail.”

She heard boots on the stairs behind her.Think.The café’s windows overlooked Abbot Kinney, police vehicles visible at both ends of the block. The fire escape would be watched. Which meant ...

Her phone buzzed one last time: Queen takes knight’s pawn.

Maya deleted the final message just as heavy footsteps hit the top landing. She moved toward the chess table, blood rushing in her ears, mind racing through her options. The bailout point was eight blocks away, through a maze of police checkpoints and agency surveillance. She had no backup, no clear route, and?—

A hand gripped her elbow. She nearly struck out before a familiar voice, barely a whisper, reached her. “Queen to king’s side.” Griffin Hawkins, dressed as a busboy, baseball cap pulled low. The slightest traces of silver paint rimmed his light blue eyes. Her relief lasted exactly one second before she registered the tension in his grip. Whatever was happening, this wasn’t the clean extraction they’d planned.

“Golf Shirt is on the stairs,” she murmured, tilting her head like she was checking her phone.

“Copy that. His partner has the alley covered.” Griffin’s casual pose belied the urgency in his voice. “We’re about to make a very noisy exit. When I move, stay on my six.”

“Wait.” She fumbled in the pocket of her shorts, pulling out the extra set of earbuds they each carried in case they met up with Griffin.

He palmed the tiny devices before fitting them in his ears. “Nice. I’m a go on comms,” he said.

Through her earpiece, she heard Ronan gulping for air, clearly running hard. “Welcome to the party, Ghost.”

“Sitrep?” Griffin asked.

Christian answered. “Bailout position’s blown. You got a plan B, Hawkins?”

“Copy that.” Griffin’s eyes scanned the rooftop. “How do you feel about Thai food, Agent Chen?”

Maya followed his gaze to the adjacent rooftop, where steam billowed from industrial exhaust fans. The smell of basil and ginger wafted up from below. “I hate Thai food,” she muttered,but she was already moving. Behind them, the roof access door burst open.

Griffin shoved her hard toward the building’s edge just as the first shots cracked against the concrete. “Move now, complain later!”

27

CONTACT BURNS

The ancient fireescape shed rust like dead skin, each step a metallic protest. Kitchen exhaust battled with the smell of corroded iron, masking their presence from the heavily armed men above. Three rooftops’ worth of running had turned Maya’s legs to rubber, but Griffin wasn’t done leading them through this vertical maze.

Before she could get her bearings, Griffin shoved her toward a scratched and dented service door. He yanked it open and pulled her inside. The sudden transition from underground tunnel to fluorescent-lit kitchen making her head spin.

Boardwalk Bangkok, her mind registered automatically, catching glimpses of red and gold signage as they slipped past startled kitchen staff. Maya’s tactical training kicked in, categorizing the space even as they moved through it. Two main exits. Three possible weapons within reach. Four workers who could either help or hinder. Usually, she analyzed scenes like this from a pursuer’s perspective. Being on the other side of the hunt sent ice down her spine.

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