Rogue Page 33

“I know.”

“You’ll never have a normal life,” I insisted. “I can’t suddenly decide I don’t want to do this anymore. There are too many who are counting on me, too many I promised I’d keep safe. I’ll probably be doing this for the rest of my life, or until something—either a Viper or a St. George bullet—kills me.”

“That’s why you need someone watching your back.”

My temper flared. “Dammit, Ember—”

The door banged open, crashing against the wall. I jumped and spun around as Wes lunged into the room, turned and slammed the door behind him. His eyes were wild in his pale face.

“St. George!” he gasped, making us all jerk up. “They’re here! I think they’re right behind me!”

Ember

They’re here.

Fear crawled up my spine. St. George had come. Again. It didn’t seem to matter where we went, what we did; they were always one step behind, seconds from kicking in the door and spraying us with lead. And now that I had so blatantly waltzed into their territory and given the figurative finger to them all, they would be eager for retribution. It was no longer a job, I suspected, no longer a routine slaying of faceless enemies. Now, it was personal.

“What do you mean, they’re right behind you?” Riley snapped, stalking toward Wes, who had already locked the door and was peering through the eyehole. “St. George doesn’t know who you are, they’ve never seen you before. How would they know you’re even a target?”

“I have no idea, mate, but someone was staring at me in the parking lot,” Wes snapped, spinning around. “And when I was driving back, I noticed I’d picked up a tail. That’s why it took me so bloody long to get here. I was trying to lose the bastards, but they could still be out there.”

Riley walked to the edge of the windows and peered through the glass, keeping his back to the wall. “I don’t see anyone,” he muttered. “Maybe you lost them.”

“They’re out there.” Garret’s quiet voice cut through the tension. We all glanced at him, standing against the wall with his arms crossed. His stance was weirdly calm. “If this really is St. George, the surveyors Wes saw will be narrowing the houses down right now. The assault team is probably on its way. We don’t have a lot of time.”

“Then we need to leave.” Riley strode out of the kitchen. “Right now. While there’s still daylight. Wes, get everything together.”

“Where are we going?” I asked as Wes hurried out of the room, muttering curses. Riley turned to look at me, frowning slightly.

“Into the city,” he said. “Downtown, where there’s lots of people. The Order won’t try to murder us in a crowd. At least, I hope they won’t resort to that.” He stabbed a glare in Garret’s direction before turning back. “Hiding in plain sight has always been a good tactic for us. We disappear into the crowds, and neither Talon nor the Order can come after us without arousing suspicion. Besides, there’s someone there I have to see. We just needed you to wake up before we left.”

I felt a brief stab of guilt. “You were all waiting on me?”

One corner of his mouth twisted up. “Kinda hard to hide a dragon in a hotel room, Firebrand. The fire marshal would blow a gasket.” He brushed my arm, a brief, light touch that sent curls of heat through my insides. “Hurry and get packed so we can get out of here. I really don’t feel like seeing St. George again.”

We gathered everything, which took only a few minutes. I didn’t have anything except my backpack with some clothes and a couple small personal things. Wes had his laptop, and Garret had the gun he’d taken from the Order and the borrowed clothes on his back. Everything else fit into a single duffel bag, which Riley swung over his shoulder. The rogue traveled light and efficient, ready to pack up and move at a word. Everything was disposable; clothes, vehicles, places to stay. In fact, the only thing I knew he kept with him at all times was that dusty leather jacket.

“All right,” he muttered, staring through the peephole in the front door as we crowded behind him. At my side, Garret pressed close, making my heart skip. I could feel his presence, burning across my skin, even as I tried to focus. “I don’t see anything out there,” Riley went on, his gaze scanning one end of the street to the other. “Looks like we’re still in the clear.”

“Don’t be fooled,” Garret murmured. “If St. George is out there, watching us, you won’t be able to see them.”

Riley snorted without turning around. “Well we certainly can’t sit here until they kick down the door,” he growled, and turned the knob. Bloodred sunlight spilled through the crack as he pulled the door open, and dying sun shone directly into my eyes, making me squint. For a moment, he didn’t move from the frame, casting one final look around the empty street. Shielding my eyes, I peered past his shoulder, searching for anything out of place. The yards and streets were empty; no suspiciously parked cars, no “electricians” or “painters” pretending to be working nearby. Everything seemed perfectly normal. The van sat inconspicuously at the edge of the driveway, but it seemed an impossible distance away.

“Okay,” Riley went on, pulling the door back and stepping into the open. “All clear. So far, so—”

A muffled crack rang out from nowhere, making my heart jump to my throat. A sharp hiss followed the gunshot, and the van jerked, then sagged to one side, its back tires deflated in an instant.

“Shit!” Riley lunged back inside and slammed the door, as the rest of us backed hastily away. “Dammit, they’re already here.” Another crack rang out, and the front window shattered with a ringing cacophony, sending glass raining to the ground. I yelped, covering my face as splinters flew everywhere, and Garret grabbed my wrist, dragging me away from the glass.

“Stay back from the windows,” he ordered, pushing me against the wall beside the window frame. I grunted at the impact and scowled at him, but he wasn’t looking at me. His gaze, narrowed and grim, was on the rows of houses beyond the broken glass. “Snipers,” he breathed, as Riley pressed himself to the other side of the frame, his lips curled in a silent snarl. “They’ve found us.”

“Brilliant,” Wes spat from behind the couch. “Snipers, that’s bloody fabulous. I am so glad we risked life and limb to rescue you, St. George.” He glared daggers at Garret, as if wishing the next bullet would make the soldier’s head explode. “I don’t suppose giving you back will make them leave us alone?”

Prev page Next page