shape stopped him: the guy was wearing a baggy windbreaker. Feds, had to be. Syd had come through after all.
The sound of gunfire retreated. Reenergized, Maltz spun and pursued it through the trees. Shadowy figures dodged ahead of him in an all-out rout. Someone was coming up behind him, running hard. He spun and spotted Syd.
“About fucking time,” he said. She grinned in reply, dropping to one knee and squeezing a few rounds off at the heavy guy puffing away from them.
The guy dropped his gun, raised his hands in the air and waved them. “I surrender!” he yelped.
“Christ,” Syd said, shaking her head at Maltz. “Civilians, right?”
Madison sat beside Bree. Her mother stood at her shoulder, wringing her hands and emitting a long, unbroken moan. Bree was so pale, her breath coming in short rasps. Madison couldn’t remember ever feeling so scared, this was worse than the boat, worse than the house burning down around them. Her sister might die, and it was all her fault.
“It hurts,” Bree said, breathing hard, teeth clenched.
“Try to relax,” the man said soothingly.
Madison recognized him from the hospital, his name was John or Jay or something like that. He gently cradled Bree’s injured arm, carefully shifting it from side to side as he examined it. He eased up Bree’s shirtsleeve, pulling slowly where blood plastered it to the wound. She winced, hissing out through her teeth.
Madison had to turn away at the sight of the nasty hole in Bree’s arm, it looked like someone had carved through the skin all the way to the bone. She fought the reflex to retch, heard her mother saying, “Oh my God, oh my God,” over and over again.
Madison focused on the dead man fifteen feet away. For some reason the gore didn’t bother her, it was like looking at a Halloween dummy from a cheesy haunted house. And she was glad he was dead, she thought with a flare of anger. She wanted them all dead, everyone who had chased her and taunted her and sent her fucking e- mails pretending to be a great guy. She wanted everyone involved with this dead and gone, then maybe she could go back to her normal life and pretend none of it ever happened.
“It passed right through, which is good,” the man said. He looked at her mother as if weighing her, arrived at some conclusion and turned to Madison instead. It was only then that Madison realized she was crying. He mistook her tears of rage for sadness and said, “Don’t worry, kiddo. It’s gonna be all right now.”
Madison didn’t answer. He handed her something, and she gazed blankly at it. It was a piece of cloth.
“Keep pressure on the wound, okay? I’m going to check the sheriff’s car for a medical kit. Ambulance should be here any minute.”
Madison let him place her hand on Bree’s arm. She kept her eyes averted, trying not to see the steady trickle of blood flowing around the cloth. The man trotted back a second later holding a white box.
“Got it,” he said, kneeling beside them again. He drew out a few items before gingerly lifting her hand. “This is going to burn for a second, but I want to get it clean,” he said clumsily.
As Bree’s howls erupted, Madison squeezed her eyes shut and clamped her hands over her ears, trying to keep from screaming herself.
Jake felt shaky. It had been a long time since he’d administered medical attention to someone, and the last time hadn’t exactly been a success story. But with any luck the kid was going to be okay, it looked like the bullet went straight through. It was hard to tell with all the blood, but it didn’t even appear to have nicked the bone: probably a ricochet from that final barrage. Luckily the bullet had already slowed, energy dissipating, by the time it hit her. Still, the mother moaning and Madison ’s jagged expression-they got to him. Jake took a deep breath, glancing back at them. The ambulance had finally arrived, and they were climbing in after the stretcher. George was going to follow to get their statement. He wanted Jake and Syd to meet them at the hospital, “In case I still need to bring you in,” he’d said, only half-jokingly.
Jake was bone-tired. All he wanted to do was lie down in the back of the car and go to sleep for a few days. His phone rang. Without checking the number he answered.
“There you are,” Kelly said warmly.
Hearing her voice made his eyes smart with tears. He chalked it up to exhaustion. “Yeah, sorry I’ve been unreachable.” He looked around. The dead guy was being zipped into a bag, and the remaining bikers sat on the ground in a semicircle, hands zip-tied behind their backs, waiting for the paddy wagon. The ground was covered with spent bullets and casings. He couldn’t even begin to sum up the situation, so instead asked, “How are you?”
“I’ve been better. If I never go into a warehouse again it’ll be too soon.”
“Yeah?” Jake said. Syd emerged from the trees, Maltz by her side. They were discussing something in low voices, glancing at the Feds. Jake’s eyes narrowed. Syd didn’t have the look of someone who planned on making herself available to the authorities.
“…and now they won’t let the techs in, not even to print him.”
“Who?” Jake asked, tuning back in.
There was a long pause. “Is this a bad time?” Kelly said coldly.
“No, I mean…yeah, it is, kind of.” He struggled to come up with a way to explain the last few hours. “But I’m listening. I miss you so much.”
The words rang hollow, even to him. “It’s been busy here, too,” Kelly said stiffly. “And now I’ve got another body to deal with, but McLarty still won’t get us a warrant for Burke. Apparently he was just named Morris’s replacement in the Senate, and it wouldn’t be ‘politically appropriate’ to question him.”
“Jackson Burke, the businessman?” Jake asked, confused. “You think he killed someone?”
“I think he’s involved somehow. All the shell companies tie back to him, and the building I’m outside right now has some sort of glowing powder all over the floor. They made us leave, and Hazmat won’t let me inside to see the body. God knows how long it’ll take to ID him under the circumstances.”
Syd finished up her conversation with Maltz and walked over to Jake. She stood a few feet away, arms crossed over her chest, clearly impatient.
“Hey listen, Kel, I’ve got to go.”
“All right.” She sounded almost relieved. “When are you heading back to New York?”
“Not sure yet, we’ve got some loose ends here.” He considered mentioning that his next call might be from a prison cell, then figured he’d cross that bridge when he came to it. “Good luck with the ID.”
“Thanks.”
Jake heard the hopelessness in her voice, and wished he could put his arms around her. He started to say so, but she’d already hung up. He tucked the phone in his pocket with a pang of guilt and faced Syd. “Let me guess. You’re not planning on meeting everyone at the hospital.”
“No, I’ll come. But Maltz and his boys aren’t keen on being fingerprinted.”
“Shocking,” Jake said, watching as Maltz and the remaining commando loaded their injured friend into the back of Syd’s rental car. “What about getting that kid some medical attention?”
“Maltz says they’ll handle it. Earns them a bonus, unfortunately.” Her eyebrows knit together. “I’m hoping he pulls through, otherwise we’ll owe a bundle. Dangel’s death already puts us in the red.”
“Wow,” Jake said. He couldn’t even begin to think of an appropriate response to that. “We’re a little short on cars, then, since the van is out of commission.”
“I know. I was thinking of dropping them off. Can you catch a ride with George?”
“And you’ll meet us there?”
“Sure I will.” She playfully punched his arm. “A little faith, Riley. You and I are stuck with each other.”
“Okay. The hospital is in Sacramento. You have the address?”
“Oh, I’ll find it,” she said breezily. “Bye.”
Jake watched the sedan pull away. The rest of the Feds were distracted, going through the scene, trying to piece everything together. The paddy wagon finally arrived and an agent herded the bikers inside. Jake turned to find George leaning against his car hood, watching him.
“So. Looks like she left you high and dry,” George noted.
“She’s meeting us at the hospital,” Jake said defensively.
