The woman was gasping now, pain and loss of blood making her pallid and gray. “I can get you help,” Ella urged.
Another coughing sound, suppressed gunfire Ella now knew, and the woman’s head split open between her eyes. Blood the color of night poured from the wound, and as Ella watched, the life fled from the Russian woman’s eyes. Ella lowered the woman’s head to the ground and pivoted on her feet before ducking farther and diving behind the small alcove she’d tried to get Svetlana into earlier.
No more shots rang out, but Ella wasn’t stupid enough to believe the shooter was gone. They wouldn’t risk Svetlana having given her any information. She was the target now. She was damn lucky they hadn’t taken that final shot at Svetlana through her.
She took a quick peek around the corner and winced as another coughing shot heralded the bullet that embedded in the wall behind her. She dodged another bullet as it found a home in the rock across from her, spitting chunks of stone onto her face.
She pulled her gun from its holster, chambered a round, and waited. Five, four, three—she stepped out from behind the wall of the alcove and began firing in the direction the shots had come from. A man was on his knees, a rifle bearing a suppressor held to his shoulder. She had no idea where he’d come from. He’d appeared as a ghost, and she hoped to make him one for real.
Ella aimed and fired, but the man fell before her bullet could take him, his head rocking sideways from the impact of another bullet. From the hallway to the dead man’s left, another man stepped out, his black gaze piercing hers. He walked swiftly to the downed man, kicking away the weapon and checking for any identifying information. He moved like her dreams.
Warrior.
Ella turned and ran.
“Ella!” Jude called out. “Goddamn it, wait!”
Everything in her wanted to freeze. The command in his voice was absolute, but it was the plea buried beneath the order that had her heart demanding she turn around and run to him, not away.
Dresden would kill him. Whoever had ordered Svetlana killed would kill him. So she ran away, dodging tourists and security guards running toward the scene she’d just left. She didn’t slow or look back until she made it to the turnstiles at the front entrance. She didn’t see him, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t close.
Jude was a big man, but he had the uncanny ability to blend into any surroundings. It was what made him such an excellent hunter and sniper. You never saw Jude unless he wanted you to, and right now, he was probably content to follow her.
But Ella had learned a few things in the year she’d been gone from him. Hiding was what she did best, and she’d take refuge in that now. She turned to her left as she exited the cathedral, once again dodging tourists. In the distance, sirens wailed, drawing closer. Ella had to ghost quickly.
She took a direct track across the Red Square, heading toward the State Historical Museum. Ella didn’t look back. She was fast but realized Jude was faster. It was colder today than it had been yesterday, and the air burned in her throat. She sprinted across the length of the square and dodged into the museum. Once inside, she stopped and searched for a security guard.
There were four lined up along the wall to her right, and she approached them. “Yest’ chelovek, presleduyushchiy menya! Pozhaluysta pomogi,” she pleaded. It was true. There was a man chasing her, and she did need their help.
“Don’t do it, Ella,” Jude warned from behind her.
Her body warmed even as her heart raced. She couldn’t do this much longer. Running from him went against everything inside her. How she found the strength, she didn’t know. She did feel bad for a split second that she was throwing the security guards to the wolf, but having to deal with them would slow Jude down, hopefully giving her enough time to get away from him.
“Kto etot chelovek k vam?” the most intrepid of the guards inquired.
Who was he to her? Everything. Instead she answered, “On nikogo net. On pytalsya zastavit’ menya pogovorit’ s nim, a zatem poluchil grubyy. Pomogi mne.”
All four men moved around her, meeting Jude somewhere behind her.
Once again, Ella ran. And then she ran some more. She could hear punches being landed behind her and winced. Those poor men were going to take a beating. She didn’t slow down though. She had to get to the railway station Svetlana Markov had mentioned, and then she had to get whatever packet the woman had spoken of somewhere safe.
She’d have to call Dresden. She’d have to contact the Piper.
Ella stopped on the stoop of a souvenir shop and picked up a trinket, glancing behind her surreptitiously in the glass front of the shop. Nothing seemed out of place, but again, Jude could be anywhere.
She had to rely on her senses, and nothing flared out to grab her. Her skin didn’t prickle as it always did when he was near. Her neck didn’t itch the way it had in Sarajevo and then again earlier today, as if Jude’s scope pressed into the skin there, branding her. Ella put down the trinket and began walking at a sedate pace toward the Bolshoi Theater. The railway station Svetlana had urged her to was close to the theater.
It took Ella ten minutes to reach the station, and she once again stopped, glancing over her shoulder casually before she entered. She searched for a map of the station, ignoring a lady’s offer to direct her wherever she wanted to go, and when she found the location of the lockers, she made a beeline toward them.
Locker 2207 was innocuous
