Whoever the fuck that guy was, he definitely wasn’t an assassin for hire. He did a pretty shitty job of trying to take me out. But he still tried to kill me all the same and I had to get out of this fucking store while I could, if I wasn’t trampled to death by the mass pandemonium.
There were no more shots, just screams, but even then I was frantically searching the stampede of people for Derrin, Javier, somebody to help me. I didn’t know if the man was still behind me, if anyone saw him with the gun, if he was blending into the crowd or being arrested by store security. I didn’t know and I couldn’t know. There was no time.
I did what I could to get through the crowd and eventually just let the swarm push me to the bottleneck of the doors, everyone packed in tight. People kept stepping on my cast and swearing. I didn’t feel a thing.
Finally I was outside and I immediately ran down the stairs as quickly as I could to the underground garage.
Down there, other people were running for their cars. It was just as crazy, people peeling out of spots, swiping parked cars, nearly hitting other shoppers. Then at the end I saw Derrin, running toward me.
My heart swelled with relief at the sight of him. This man would protect me. He would keep me safe.
My brother had to be wrong.
“Alana,” he said, grabbing my face in his hands. His eyes looked wild. “What happened?”
“There’s someone in the store, he looked like a surfer bum. He tried to talk to me, said my name. He knew who I was, Derrin! Then he pulled out a gun. I ran, he fired once and missed. I don’t …” I paused to catch my breath, nearly collapsing into his arms, “I don’t think he’s an assassin, he didn’t have the skill. But he still tried to kill me. No doubt.”
“And your brother? Where is Javier?”
“Gone,” I said just as the sound of screeching tires filled the air. The chaos was growing.
He grabbed my hand and that alone filled me with strength. “Come on, let’s get out of here while we can.”
We ran to the car, Derrin literally sweeping me off my feet as a truck almost backed into me.
We finally made it into the Camry, the doors were unlocked. It didn’t really register as strange, just convenient as we didn’t have to fiddle with the keys.
I jumped in and Derek took the keys from me, sticking them in the ignition.
Suddenly proverbial bells started ringing in my head.
A warning.
Instinct.
“No,” I said just as Derrin turned the keys.
The car stuttered strangely with a loud grinding sound, refusing to start.
“Stop!” I screamed and he immediately took his hand away, eyes wide as he looked at me.
“The doors were unlocked,” I said quickly, barely able to breathe. “I know I locked the doors as I left.”
I’d never seen him look so afraid as the realization dawned on him. If he had tried harder, even pushed the key over just a millimeter more, the car would have exploded.
Someone had put a car bomb inside for us.
Someone already knew we were here.
“We have to run,” he said, a twinge of panic in his voice.
I’d never heard that panic before.
I nodded. Fear had a net above my head.
We both jumped out of the car and he ran over to me, grabbing my hand and leading me down the parking lane toward the stairs at the end, going against the flow of traffic and people who were leaving. I guess he figured the fastest way out of here was to just get above ground first.
We were almost at the end when the man appeared, the scarred surfer dude with the gun was at the top of the stairwell, a throng of people on either side of him.
“Shit!” Derrin yelled and the same time I said, “That’s him!”
The man smiled when he saw us and began to push people out of his way.
Derrin pulled me to the left, darting between cars and then down the lane on the other side in the opposite direction. Suddenly a man appeared at the end, tall and formidable, a stiff face in a stiff suit. He had a gun at his side.
He wasn’t here for Wal-Mart’s savings.
He fired at us just as Derrin pulled me behind another car. We fell to the ground beside the car, glass shattering around us as I covered my head, leaning back against the rear door.
“Stay here,” Derrin commanded, pulling out his gun. He got up into a crouch, both hands on the gun. Even throughout all the violence and action, I had to stare at him in awe for a minute. In his boots, cargo pants and white t-shirt, his buzz cut, steely eyes and sheen of sweat on his face and muscles, he looked every inch the man who was going to get me out of here.
My man.
Then the window on the car beside us exploded, glass raining down on us, and I screamed, forced back into this deadly game.