Page 7 of Shadowed Agenda

“Back off!” a voice shouted from behind them.

“Shit.” The other guy said. “We got company.”

Regan was thrown unceremoniously to the ground. She pushed herself up. The two men were running toward the evergreens visible in the distance.“Get down!” someone shouted behind her.

Regan turned. Dressed in running gear, Pavlo was barreling toward her. She threw herself onto the ground.

She could feel his body sail over hers as if she was nothing more than a hurdle in an obstacle course. Regan looked up at his retreating back.

What was Pavlo doing here?

Chapter four

Pavlopushedhimselfharder,closing the distance between himself and Regan’s attackers. The two men were fast, but they were no match for him. While Pavlo was in charge of Shadow Defense’s security for their private clients, he was still active in the field. He’d retained the skills required for certain missions. Pavlo kept up the same rigorous morning workout routine he’d done while a Navy SEAL.

Being in top form wouldn’t change the outcome of the chase. He’d already lost when the two men broke out of the trees and ran across the green stretch of grass bordering the woods. A paved path, popular with cyclists, lay beyond the grass.

The men veered to the left, where two bikes lay on the grass. A cyclist stood beside his bike a few feet away. When he spotted the men, he waved, hopped onto his bike and headed down the drive. He’d been watching the bikes. They’d known the informal path through the wooded area led to this one. The attack had been planned.

A group of cyclists whooshed past the two men as they reached their bikes.

Pavlo was only ten yards behind them, but it could have been a thousand. They mounted their bikes and raced toward the cyclists. The man in the running gear and red ball cap looked back. He lifted his arm, extending his middle finger, before disappearing among the pack of riders in the distance.

Pavlo returned the salute, angry he’d been unable to catch at least one of them. Not stopping to catch his breath, he turned and retraced his steps. Focused on his prey, Pavlo had quickly glanced at Regan before jumping over her body where it was sprawled on the ground. His quick glimpse had reassured him she wasn’t physically hurt, but her stress meter had to be pinging in the red zone.

The possibility of the incident being unrelated to the text message Regan had received after the morning show was slim. Only one person other than himself knew Regan was going for a run. Isla.

“Are you hurt?” Pavlo asked as he approached Regan.

“I’m fine,” she grumbled, rooting around in the underbrush. “I dropped my cell phone when I tripped over a tree root and can’t find it. It’s got to be here somewhere. I can’t afford a new one.”

Regan’s last comment struck him as odd. Her books sold as well as his. She should be able to afford a new cell phone.

As for her being fine… angry red scratches marked the smooth skin on her arms and leg, battle scars from the branches blocking her way as she ran from her attackers. Regan was shaking as she searched the undergrowth.

Pavlo resisted the urge to wrap his arm around her until the shaking stopped. It was what he would have done had it been his sister or any other woman he knew, but Regan was a mystery. No matter what he did, it rubbed her the wrong way.

“When… the guy grabbed me, he said they didn’t like anyone messing with the Senator’s wife. I lied.” Regan grimaced and raised her shoulders. “I told them the publishing house had changed the schedule.”

“Did they accept the excuse?” Pavlo asked, although he knew what her answer would be. Intimidation and violence were the go-to responses for the group that supported the Senator.

Regan shook her head and heaved a sigh.

“They told me to unchange it.” Her fingers made air quotes around the last two words. She raised her eyebrows. “Does that verb even exist? I thought it was an adjective.”

Pavlo howled with laughter. Two men three times her size had threatened Regan, and she was joking about it. This was a side of her he’d never seen or expected.

“They picked this location for a reason,” he said as he systematically scanned the area. “There’s a popular cycling path on the other side of the evergreens. They’d left their bikes on the grassy area to the side of the path. A buddy was watching them. He took off when they showed up.”

“They wouldn’t have known which path I’d take. They got lucky,” Regan said.

Someone backstage must have overheard Regan tell Isla she was going for a run in Central Park. Whoever they’d called obviously had the resources to put the attack together quickly.

“Why did you turn off the main running path onto this one?” Pavlo asked.

“A friend of mine used to live in New York,” Regan said, her eyes on the ground. “She sent a photo with a map of the route she used to run.”

Luck hadn’t played a part in the attack. Pavlo needed to check Regan’s cell phone. He was betting it was being tracked and cloned. It was the only way they could have known she’d take that route. The boy. The bikes. That took time to set up.

---