Page 77 of Sins and Salvation

We move quiet, Conor between us. The forest is black as pitch, but that helps us. I head downhill, remembering a farm lane that runs along the coast.

Gunshots crack behind us. They're firing blind, hoping for a lucky hit.

"Don't stop," I tell Maeve when she slows.

"I'm scared," Conor whispers.

"I know. But we gotta be super quiet now. Like hide and seek."

He grips my hand harder.

We hit the forest edge. Beyond it: open fields, then the coastal road. No cover at all.

"We run now," I tell them. "Don't stop for anything."

Maeve lifts Conor. "I got him. You cover us."

I nod. "Ready? Go!"

We sprint across the field, exposed. Shouts come from the forest. They have spotted us.

Halfway across, headlights hit the farm lane ahead. I aim my gun, then recognize Finn's car.

"It's Finn. Run."

He pulls up and throws the doors open. "In! Now!"

We jump in, Maeve and Conor in back, me up front.

"Russians," Finn mutters as we tear away. "Three of them. Got one in the leg but the other two aren't giving up."

"We still making that flight?" I ask.

He cuts down a dirt path I've never seen. "What do you think? Cormac would kill me if I let you miss it."

Maeve holds Conor, whispering to him. The kid's gone quiet. Shock.

"Who told them where we were?" I ask Finn.

"Siobhan, probably. She heard about the cottage from your calls with Cormac."

I look back at Maeve. "I fucked up again. Put you in danger."

"Save it," she cuts me off. "Just get us to that plane."

The airfield comes into view, just a few lights around the edge. A sleek private jet waits, engines humming.

Finn stops near it. "Go. I'll watch your backs."

"Come with us," I tell him.

He shakes his head. "You know I can't. Cormac called while you were gone. He needs me back there to clean this shit up." He hands me a paper bag. "New IDs, cash, contacts in Spain. Everything to disappear."

I grab his shoulder. "Thanks."

"Take care of them." His face is dead serious. "Don't look back."

We run to the plane, heads down. The pilot, weathered guy in his fifties, waves us on.

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