I dug my heels in, refusing to move. "I can't. They left that phone for a reason." It had belonged to the congresswoman's grandmother and all the years I'd worked for her, the phone had never been hooked up. It had sat on the congresswoman's desk opposite her government phone, collecting dust.
"Kennedy, please." He gestured toward the door, tension streaming off him in waves.
I shook my head and reached for the receiver. "Hello?"
"They know who you are and why you're here," a woman said. Her voice was familiar-likely one of the congresswoman's aids. "You shouldn't have come back. Head north to the fifth district security checkpoint. Use lane five. Be there before sunset."
Before I could answer, there was a click and the line went dead. I dropped the receiver and swore under my breath.
Gunn strode over, pulled out a handkerchief and picked up the phone, careful to not leave any finger prints. After wiping it down, he replaced the receiver back on the cradle. Then without saying a word, he pulled me out of the office, walking quickly back to this truck.
I scanned the dimly-lit parking garage, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary, but there was no way we weren't being watched. The scene at the checkpoint was starting to make more sense. There hadn't been a mistake. Someone had purposely put me back on the employment list so that I could be tracked. It was the simplest way to find me should I enter any of the dozens of cities controlled by the Azurites. And that meant one of two things-either my research had pissed someone off or Audrey's operation had been compromised. For the sake of the people I loved, I prayed it was the former.
Just as we reached the truck, a black SUV squealed around the bend and screeched to a stop.
Gunn grabbed my arm and yanked me behind him as two men dressed in business suits jumped out, each leveling their firearms at us. One was tall with dark hair and steel gray eyes. The other was short and round with a jagged scar marring his nose and left cheek.
"What the hell are you doing?" Gunn snarled.
Neither man answered him. Instead the dark-haired man on the right kept his weapon trained on Gunn, but met my gaze over his shoulder.
I narrowed my eyes, recognizing him as Jerry Smith, a supposed political consultant, who'd occupied the offices next to Congresswoman Green's. "I don't know what you think you're doing, but I can promise you, if you pull that trigger, your world as you know it will end," I warned.
"Ms. Frazer," he said with a heavy dose of impatience, "if you don't want to see your boyfriend here take a bullet to the chest, I suggest you get in the vehicle."
Gunn grabbed my wrist, holding me in place. "She's not going anywhere."
"Think again, asshole," Scar Face said, raising the weapon so it was level with Gunn's face.
Abject fear and fierce protectiveness burst from Gunn, nearly making me take a step back. The anger raging through him poured into me and shattered whatever barrier had been blocking our connection. And suddenly I could hear his thoughts as if they were my own.
Touch her and die, motherfuckers.
Despite our dire circumstances, a small smile tugged at my lips. Whatever wall he'd erected around his heart had just shattered. I guessed I had the suits to thank for that. Not that it was going to save them from the smack down they were about to receive.
I placed my hand over the one Gunn was still gripping my wrist with and gently pried his fingers off my arm. Still holding his hand in mine, I glared at the suits. "If you want me to get in that SUV, you're going to have to put the guns down."
A cold evil smile broke out over Smith's face. "I don't think either of you are in the position to make any sort of demands." He flicked his gun my way. "Get in the fucking vehicle before I put a bullet in your thigh."
"Fine!" I threw my hands up and started moving toward the SUV.
"Kennedy!" Gunn cried, reaching for me.
Scar Face fired, the sound of the gunshot echoing through the garage.
I spun, my entire body going numb with terror as I spotted the man I loved doubled over clutching his arm. "Gunn!"
He lifted his head and met my gaze, his pain and fierce determination streaming off him in waves.
"Jesus, Carl, don't be so twitchy," Smith said. "If you're going to shoot, make sure you do more than graze his fucking shoulder."
"You okay?" I asked Gunn, still staring him in the eye.
"Yeah. I'm fine," he said with a barely audible grunt.
Phantom pain radiated down my arm, mimicking his suffering. I gritted my teeth, glanced at my hand as I formed a fist, and then returned my gaze back to Gunn. As I repeated the motion, his gaze followed mine and when our eyes met again, I flexed my fingers and raised my eyebrows in question.