She considered the extra weight, the drag time against the wind, and listened to the pace of the steps of the man who was now giving chase behind her.
He was tall. And fast.
Given her own recalibration, factored against the rate at which he was closing the distance, escape was statistically impossible. Sabrina had to come up with a new plan.
The only option left to her was to fight.
Chapter 3
Even as she ran, Sabrina took stock of her surroundings. When engaged in a physical confrontation, a fighter should, if possible, control the environment, the weaponry and the enemy. It was an adage that Sabrina took very seriously. Veering off around the last building on the block to her right, adjacent to nothing but an empty lot, she found the Dumpster exactly where she expected it to be.
It was always hard to tell what a person might find in an alley. But there was always potential for loose crate slats with protruding nails, or any other type of debris that might serve as a ready-made shank.
She stopped in her tracks while she scanned the contents around the Dumpster. Inhaling deep cleansing breaths, both to control her fear and to reoxygenate her muscles, Sabrina considered removing her jacket, but decided not to. It might serve as protection if her pursuer had a knife.
If he had a gun, then the game was pretty much over because, like an idiot, she’d left hers at home. Krueger had assured her that she was safe from any kind of kidnapping so she hadn’t felt the need to walk around town armed. Besides that, she didn’t have a holster for the damn thing. When she’d shoved it in the back of her jeans it annoyed her. It was a really big gun.
Sabina wanted to kick herself for her own stupidity, but there was no time. When she found nothing useful as a weapon on the ground she cursed. Her next step was to try inside the Dumpster, but it was too late. The sound of the shoes on pavement grew louder as the man chasing her turned the corner.
There was nothing else to do but assume a balanced stance and wait.
She saw his shadow in the moon at the end of the empty lot. Puffs of chilled air emanated from his mouth and nostrils as he, too, tried to catch his breath after the chase. She couldn’t see his face, but his silhouette proved what she had earlier suspected.
He was tall. That he was a man had never really been in doubt. The sound of the shoes had given him away.
A dozen phrases leaped to her tongue.
If he possessed any sort of intellect and strength, the next few minutes would be a considerable challenge. She didn’t figure that witty banter, as great as it played out in old black-and-white movies, would serve much purpose in this situation.
She watched his head tilt slightly to the right as he studied her offensive pose. She gathered that he now comprehended her strategy was to fight. No doubt he took some time to reconcile that with the person who had run from him. He turned his head quickly in both directions to check the surroundings and assure himself that they were alone. Then he advanced cautiously.
It had been a while since she’d engaged in battle with an opponent but she wasn’t worried about forgetting how to do it. Fighting was all about physics. Force, speed, angles. Sabrina had always been a whiz at physics.
The man continued to approach, and he held his hands up as if to show he wasn’t carrying a weapon. Or possibly in a gesture of surrender. But if he was surrendering, then why was he still moving?
“Stop,” she commanded, wishing her voice sounded a little firmer. Unfortunately, she had a slight cold which made her sound more nasal than ominous.
“I just want to talk,” he replied even as he crept forward.
There was an eerie familiarity about his voice that Sabrina immediately recognized, but she couldn’t dwell on it. He was only eighty-one inches away. Just outside her long-legged reach.
Until he took another step closer.
“Talk to this,” she said, swinging her leg up and over in a roundhouse kick that she aimed toward his head. A second before her booted foot would have made contact with his jaw he pulled his body out of reach. And as her leg crossed his face he caught it in his hand with a grip that was too strong for her to break.
Balanced on one foot she knew that the slightest tug from him would send her to the ground. In cases like these, it was always best to get there on her own terms. Propelling herself off the ground with her other leg, she jumped and with her free foot aimed for his knee. Unable to avoid the blow while he still held her right leg, the man quickly released her, but not before she was able to make contact with enough force to send him stumbling back.
Together they fell. But knowing that’s where she was headed, Sabrina had the upper hand. She twisted her body and used her hands and feet to brace against the impact, essentially executing a prolonged push-up. Flipping over on to her backside, she did a kip-up, using the palms of her hands to bounce herself back onto the soles of her feet and into a standing position.
She watched the man favor his knee slightly as he, too, sprang to his feet in a fluid motion. Not even the long, dark overcoat he wore got in the way of the move.
“You want to play?” he asked, his voice a low snarl now.
“Not particularly,” she replied. “Hey, I know. How about you let me go?”
“Not until we talk.”
“Tell me who you are,” she insisted. The accent was American, not foreign, but it didn’t do as much as it could have to alleviate her fear. Kahsan could have easily sent someone within the country to get her. Possibly one of the sources inside the CIA Krueger had mentioned.
The man remained stubbornly silent to her request.
“You don’t want to talk. I don’t want to talk. So where does that leave us?” she asked, lifting her hands, palms up. Hoping to catch him in a moment of surprise, she threw a side kick that made solid contact with his stomach. He barely reacted to it. Instead, he used the opportunity to throw a right hook at her jaw.
Sabrina felt the blow and was stunned by it. She hadn’t forgotten how to fight, but she remembered that the other part of fighting was learning how to take a hit. She quickly remembered it wasn’t any fun.
Blood gathered at the corner of her lip. She swiped it away with her tongue and backed away a step. Thinking he’d subdued her, he took a step forward only to be greeted by her own not-too-shabby left hook. His head turned at the impact, but he recovered faster and raised his hand again. This time she was quick enough to defend the punch with her forearm.
Three strikes, three counters. Sabrina struggled to fend off what she knew to be perfectly executed martial arts moves. There was a little of everything in his style, karate, jujitsu and kung fu. The man wasn’t picky. But he was getting frustrated. She could feel it in the increased speed of his attack. He managed to make contact with her cheek, which staggered her. Enough for her to lose concentration for a split second.
Suddenly, she felt his ankle whip around behind her right knee and pull. The force of it sent her stumbling backward on to her ass with her opponent looming over her. He reached for the lapels of her jacket and pulled her up to her feet so fast that she was unable to mount a counterattack with her legs. He thrust her back against the side of the building, pinning her to the brick wall with his weight.
“You always were a hellcat in a fight.”
Just then the moon broke free of a cloud and shot a burst of cool white light down on the man’s face. It had been a while, and he’d aged. The wrinkles were deeper around his eyes, there was a smattering of gray in his hair and his expression was harder, colder than she remembered it. But there was no mistaking him.
“Quinlan,” she breathed.
“In the flesh.”
