Page 105 of Harbinger

His brown eyes widen as he looks around us before they land on me. Like he wasn’t quite sure what was going on before. Like he was dreaming. Letting out a sigh of relief, he grabs my head and kisses me. Hard.

“We have to go,” I interrupt him, my words muffled by his lips.

He tries to get up but flinches, clearly in a lot of pain. We don’t have time for that. I grab his arm, hauling him up. He takes a couple of steps, getting his feet under him, and we take off back toward the city as fast as we can.

Which isn’t the quickest.

My hair is still a mess, glass shards still sticking out of it. My hand bleeds, the chunk of glass cutting it who knows how deep. My clothes are ripped and so are Ronan’s. There’s nowhere we can go.

“What are we going to do?” I ask him, barely able to breathe from panic and exhaustion. Electric shocks zing the back of my thighs, and I can feel the cramping start.

“We have to find a car to steal. I think that’s our only option right now,” he says as he looks over our clothes.

We stay in the shadows, watching as men in black uniforms walk through the streets. It’s not a busy part of the city, that’s for sure. But it’s still strange that no one has a problem with it.

We’re about to turn a corner when one of the men turns right into us. Ronan, already holding his gun, grabs the man, places the gun between his vest and pants, and shoots twice. It’s quiet, and the man goes down without a sound.

“You remind me of John Wick right now,” I whisper as we rush through the city.

“I don’t know who that is,” Ronan hisses back.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now? It’s not even an old movie!” I throw my hands in the air, rolling my eyes. “We’re watching it when we get home.”

He casts me a sideways glance, looking done with me.

Ronan takes out his broken phone and manages to call Jerry.

“We were attacked on the road. We’re fine. Banged up. We’re getting a car now, and we’ll be at the airport in five minutes.” Silence. “I know it’s ten minutes away from us right now, but we’re getting there in five. Please tell the pilot to be ready.” Silence. “Yes, as in, the second we get on that plane, it’s taking off.”

Ronan thumbs the keypad, trying to hang up the phone. When it doesn’t work, he throws the phone in the trash. “I have extras at home,” he explains when I gape at him.

Finding a car fast enough to get away from these men doesn’t come easy, but when we finally find a corvette, we climb in. Ronan pulls wires out, hot-wiring it. “The only people who drive corvettes are middle-aged white men who are going through a mid-life crisis,” I tell him, judging him just a smidge.

“Well we’re not going to live until we’re middle-aged white people if we don’t get this going,” he hisses, sliding into the seat.

The engine roars to life, and he hits the gas, lurching forward.

We fly through the streets quickly, mostly avoiding roads where men are stationed. It isn’t until we’re almost to the airport that a car pulls out behind us, speeding up so they’re on our tail.

Ronan grinds his molars, hitting the steering wheel with his fist.

Up ahead, we see our plane, and I’ve never seen a more welcoming sight.

“We just have to go for it,” Ronan tells me. “We don’t. have any other choice. The second we stop, run. And don’t stop running, got it? If I fall behind, you get on that plane.”

“I’m not doing that,” I tell him, grabbing his shoulders. “I’m not leaving you here no matter what.”

“You have to.”

“You have to, too.”

He grabs my hand as we burst through the security gate to the tarmac, coming to a screeching halt outside of the plane. The large car follows us, a man shooting out the side window.

“Now!” Ronan yells, and we fling our doors open, staying low as we make a run for it. The door to the plane is open, and the stairs are rolled out. I can feel bullets flying by my head, but we stay low enough, weaving back and forth, that we make it.

As the plane closes the door, I watch as the men fire bullet after bullet at the plane. All they do is ricochet off.

I can’t help but think that’s cool.

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