Page 45 of V-Day
Cristián was staring at the bookcase. “Dino has been moved. That wasn’t where he was sitting, when we left.”
She looked at the plastic fantastic dragon.Dino. Sheesh. “You remember exactly where it was?”
“I remember where everything was,” he said absently, moving toward the bookcase. He was focused, concentrating. With a measured movement, he reached up to the shelf and swept the dragon aside with the back of his hand.
Glass glittered. A round eye.
“A camera,” Chloe breathed, clutching at her chest. Her heart was working too hard, as her body swung from one extreme emotional state to another, too many times in the last few minutes to keep up with.
Cristián whirled. “Run!” he shouted. “Get out of the house! Now!”
Chloe lurched into a broken, unsteady sprint, her limbs uncooperative, her fear making her clumsy. Cristián’s sharp imperative made her move without pausing to question or demand explanations.
She almost slithered down the stairs to the kitchen. Parris leapt down the last four steps of the flight on the other side, her gun up. In her other hand, she had the bag which Cristián had packed. “What’s up?” she asked, with astonishing calm.
“Camera. Not ours. Monitoring,” Cristián said.
“Shit,” Parris breathed. “I should’ve checked. No way they leave this house still standing if they weren’t monitoring.” She put her thumb and forefinger to her mouth and whistled—a sharp, two note call.
“Moving!” came Ramirez’s response, from the back wing. Chloe heard Pia protesting and Ramirez growl something back.
“Move. Out the back door. We don’t have time to sneak out windows,” Parris said. “Into the trees, as fast as you can go. Don’t stop for anything, not even gunshots.Move it!”
Chloe didn’t know where the back door was, although she guessed the general direction. There was one short flight of steps on that side of the kitchen. She ran for them. Cristián was right behind her, crowding her. He had longer legs. He would be faster in a sprint.
She surged up the stairs, into a work area with deep concrete sinks and laundry equipment. To the right of a barred door was a bench and hooks and shelves above. A mudroom.
Cristián yanked the heavy lumber out of the pegs on either side of the door and pulled the door open. Parris slipped past him and out. She didn’t slide out or look around. She burst out of the door like a sprinter through the finish line, not slowing down, not checking around her.
Then Chloe realized—there were eight other men up at the tree line, covering them. They would have eyes on the area.
“Go, go,” Chloe urged Cristián.
He took off as fast as Parris. As soon as he emerged from the door, though, the ground around his feet erupted in little fountains of dirt. Then Chloe heard the shots.
The assault rifles on the ridge behind the house opened up, returning fire.
The Insurrectos had been waiting for Cristián to emerge.
Her heart screaming, her limbs shaking, Chloe hesitated at the door. When she ran out, would they shoot at her, too?
She couldn’t stay here. She had to go. No choice.
Chloe gripped the door, tracing the path she would take across the yard and up the slope until she reached the rope one of Parris’ team had thoughtfully dropped down for them to use to scramble the remaining thirty feet.
They would be sitting ducks, climbing that rope.
“Oh fuck…” Chloe breathed.
Cristián turned. Beckoned. “Come on!” he cried.
She threw herself out of the door and ran like hell.
