“They’re coming. I have to keep her safe. Focus!”
He paced back, his eyes flicking to all the edges of their little corner of hell. Bit wanted to look around herself, but she suspected Blaine wouldn’t like that.
“Check the sight lines. Check the entrances.”
Blaine nodded his head as though he was agreeing with a voice she couldn’t hear. He walked away and Bit caught sight of a nasty rash running up his neck. She had no doubt that was where her stalker had applied the poison. She thought back to the port, wondering how that horrible man had managed to get a poison into Blaine. She couldn’t remember Blaine eating anything.
A second later, she heard the crash of a door being violently shut. Bit flinched again.
When the room settled into an unearthly silence, Bit climbed out of her chair. She turned to find the back half of the room as uninteresting as the other half. There were no windows and only one door. She tip toed up to it and creaked it open. It opened up into a hallway with three other doors. Bit slipped out and peeked inside each doorway. Mostly they led into other dark basement rooms like the one she had left, but the middle room was a tiny closet with shelves filled with boxes.
“This is either brilliant or the dumbest idea you’ve ever had,” she mumbled to herself as she slipped into the closet.
She found the largest box on the lowest shelf to be empty and tilted it onto its side—the box still sitting in its spot on the shelf. She climbed inside, folding herself up until she could pull the lid shut. It was agony to keep herself squeezed into the tight quarters, but she held her breath and waited.
From her place in the box she heard the heavy footsteps of Blaine returning.
“Bit!” Blaine called, as though she were lost. “Bit, where are you? I’m coming! Bit!”
The doors in the hallway began opening with deafening bangs. Bit let out a slow breath just before the door to the closet thumped open, willing herself not to jerk within her box. A second later she heard it thump shut and the heavy footfalls pound away. The third door opened and shut in quick succession before she heard the steps shift to racing up the stairs at the end of the hallway.
Bit let out another careful breath. He had left. He had actually taken the bait and left to find her. She forced herself to count to fifty before crawling out of the box. Tears fell from her cheeks as a sob broke through her restraint. Bit forced herself to keep moving as she wept.
She reached the top of the stairs and stopped, willing herself into silence. Pain or not, she had to be quiet if she hoped to escape. She had no idea what was on the other side of the door.
Bit took a shallow breath and eased the door open. A gust of salty air blasted her in the face, nearly tearing the door from her fingers. Bit glanced up and down the alleyway before darting out of the building. She forced herself into a run, ignoring the stabbing pain in her ribs.
She had to run. Stop and you die!
Bit made it to the first main street and turned, not worrying about what direction she went. From there she ran two more blocks before turning back. She zig-zagged, remembering how she and Oden had done the same thing with the trains.
Train! Get to a train, dumbass!
Bit started glancing down streets, desperate for a train station. After another four of five blocks she slid to a stop, her chest hurting too badly to continue.
“You okay, girl?” asked a voice from the doorway of a shop.
Bit flinched, jumping back to put space between herself and the newest threat. The man threw up his arms, showing that they were empty.
“Easy there. Not going to hurt you. You okay?”
Bit felt her lower lip begin to tremble. “Train station?”
“Quite a ways to a train station. ‘Bout six blocks that way, and four blocks north.”
Bit nodded.
“You have a transit card?” the man asked
Bit felt in her pockets, searching for the precious card. It sat, safe and sound, in the interior pocket of her stained crew jacket. She nodded.
“You need anything else? You look pretty bunged up.”
Bit considered her options, licking her dried and cracked lips. “You have a comm. device.”
“How long range?” asked the man, seeming to realize she probably wasn’t calling someone in the next district.
“Ship docked at Ward Port.”
The man nodded. “I can manage that. You know the frequency?”
Bit thought about it. She had watched Oden dial in the ship a number of times. She thought she could duplicate it, but she wasn’t sure.
“I think so.”
“Come on in. Why don’t we give it a try?”
Bit glanced up and down the street, making sure Blaine wasn’t around, before stepping into the man’s small shop. The smell of fresh-baked bread filled her senses. He led her to the back of the quaint little shop and into an office. He powered up the comm. device and allowed her to take control. She went to work, repeating the motions she had seen Oden do to reach the ship.
The man stepped away when the screen snapped to life and Forrest’s face appeared.
Bit frowned at him. Where’s Reese?
“BIT!” Forrest exclaimed, his excitement overwhelming. “The captain is panicked. You okay? You get away from him? Talk in code. This line could be bugged. We’ve got problems up here. We were attacked and Reese was tortured.”
Bit froze, her eyes wide with new fear.
“Where are you? No, don’t answer that.”
“I don’t know anyway.”
“Think you can get somewhere that the cap can meet you at? They’re bound to check in at some point. But remember you can’t say the name of the place.”
Bit thought about it for a long agonizing moment. “Tell Oden I’m at the place I wasn’t just a friend. He’ll know.”
Forrest smirked at her. “I won’t ask. Stay safe.”
Bit swallowed the pressure forming in her throat. She couldn’t take much more bad news before she ended up in the fetal position, unable to function or fight.
“You too,” she said before flicking off the comm. device.
“Sounds like you’re in a bad way,” the shop owner said from the doorway.
Bit stood up. “You could say that. Thank you, sir, for the use of your comm. device. I can never repay you for your kindness.”
The man waved away her gratitude. “Come, get something to eat.”
“I have nothing to pay you with.”
“And if I said ‘come buy something’ that might be an issue. C’mon,” he ordered again with a smile.
She followed him out into the shop and took a seat in a large booth. He fetched a large, hot roll covered in cinnamon and berries. Bit dug in as though she hadn’t seen food in a week. Whatever drug Blaine had used on her—likely the ketamine—had left her starving.
Bit was halfway through the roll when she spotted Blaine charging down the street.
“Shit!” she exclaimed, grabbing the plate and ducking under the table.
From where she hunkered she watched the feet of the shop owner saunter over to the display. Blaine appeared in the door, gun still in hand.
“You. Shop owner. You seen a girl around these parts?” Blaine demanded.
“A girl? You’re gonna have to be more specific than that,” the man said as he slowly walked back to his counter.
“Small. Blonde. Dreadlocks.”
“Nope. And I’d remember a girl with dreadlocks. Haven’t seen that hairstyle on Mars in…oh… fifteen or twenty years.”
Blaine made a rude noise in the back of his throat and stormed away. Bit waited an extra minute before crawling out from under the table, fresh tears of pain brimming over her eyes. She pressed her arm against her side, willing the stabbing pain away. The shop owner just stared at her.
“Do I even want to know how a nice girl like you got tangled up with a jackass like him?”
Bit shook her head. “It’s a long, long story.”
&
nbsp; She ate the last of the roll in three large bites and took the plate to the sink, ready to wash it herself.
“You just leave that for me. Why don’t you let me walk you to the station? I don’t like the idea of that guy finding you alone,” suggested the middle-aged man.
Bit shook her head. “Did you see that rash on his neck?”
The shop keeper nodded.
“That’s the result of a poison. He’s not actually like this. Someone’s done this to him. If he finds me, he won’t actually hurt me. He’s actually a crew member on my ship. Like I said, long story. But if he finds you with me… that I don’t know. I just need to meet up with my captain. But your help has been beyond measure. Thank you.”
The shop keeper nodded. “At least go out the back.”
Bit nodded. He repeated his directions to her, and she hobbled away with one last wave. She would never forget the shopkeeper, or his succulent dessert roll.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Oden glanced around the uptown neighborhood, feeling as out of place as a bull in a china shop or, more accurately, a juvenile delinquent in a jewelry store. And everyone on the street knew he didn’t belong. At least Jack and Randal looked a little respectable, if slightly stale.
Calen, on the other hand, wore blood-stained clothing and limped with every step. But the residents of the high-class neighborhood didn’t stare at Calen. They stared at Oden—his tattoos and piercing making him the target of their glares and judgements. He didn’t belong in their world of pet birds and Aston Martins.
“Did we have to stop here?” he grumbled to the other men.
“Did we have to stop at all?” said Calen. “We should be looking for Bit and she sure as hell isn’t in the Ascraeus District.”
“Us getting killed by those men won’t do Bit a lick of good. We have to make sure we’ve lost them before we go back for her,” responded Jack, his tone harsh from repeating himself so often.
Calen had made his opinion known more than once on their journey.
They continued down the sidewalk, their eyes wandering in search of anything suspicious. For Oden, though, everything looked suspicious. He wasn’t used to seeing women dressed to the nines just to go out for coffee, with their primped pooches decked in diamonds and tucked into purses under their arms. He didn’t even know dogs could be bred that small. Eventually, Oden realized the pint-sized animals had likely been genetically altered, just like the embryos in the pack he carried.
“Guys,” Oden said, catching sight of two men dressed in black jeans and heavy-duty jackets, designed for wear and tear rather than fashion. “At your three o’clock.”
The group kept walking, doing their best to act as though nothing was out of the ordinary, even though everything down to their very presence was wrong. The men in question continued to stare at them as they moved down the side of the street.
“I think we need to make a turn,” Randal said quietly, his head turned away from the men just in case they could read lips.
“Take the lead,” ordered Jack.
At the next intersection Randal nudged Jack’s shoulder and they turned right.
“How’re you doing, Calen?” Jack asked without turning around.
“I’m okay. I’ll keep up,” Calen said.
Oden glanced at the other pilot, not believing a word of it. Fresh sweat beaded on his forehead, giving his pale face a sheen as he limped alongside him. Still, Oden knew Calen had the ability, like all of them, to push the pain to the back and do whatever had to be done.
“Oden, see if they’ve followed,” ordered Randal from the front.
Oden spotted a pretty woman walking down the opposite side of the street. He made a show of checking her out and turned to keep his eyes on her. The movement gave him a chance to scan the street behind them. Sure enough, the suspicious men were just making the turn, pretending to talk quietly together. Oden winked at the offended woman and turned back to his group, laughing loudly.
“Yeah, they’re half a block back, picking up speed,” he said with a chuckle.
“I think it’s time to move,” Randal said.
The group murmured their agreement. They picked up their pace, Calen doing his best to keep up. This time Jack eyeballed a woman, going so far as to give her an appreciative whistle. She stomped away while he got a look at the men behind them.
“Run for it!” Jack said upon turning around.
And they did, taking off at top speed. Oden glanced over his shoulder to see their pursuers pick up their pace, too. They turned down another street. Suddenly the wind picked up, just like it had on the train platform. Instinctually, Oden glanced up, seeing an expensive hover car descending on them.
“Down the alley,” Oden ordered before he could censor himself.
They turned all the same, heading down a narrow alley where the hover car could not follow.
“We have to go underground,” Calen panted.
“There aren’t any underground stations in this district,” Randal replied.
“Then we go up,” said Oden.
They each glanced back at him in their own turn, their own looks of confusion varying.
“We steal a hover car. Trust me, I can outfly that punk on my worst day.”
Oden watched Jack as he ran, waiting for his captain to argue. To his amazement, Jack nodded.
“If you know how to steal one, I’m game,” Jack said.
“Follow my lead,” Oden said as they reached the first street to intersect with the alleyway.
They skidded to a stop and allowed Oden to take point. He glanced from side to side, examining the street and the hover cars parked along the sidewalks until he saw what he wanted—a sleek two-door McLaren.
“They’re coming,” Randal said, almost sounding panicked.
“On my tail,” Oden ordered. “Jack, Calen, you’re in the back seats. Go!”
They bolted out of their hiding place and raced down the half block to where the exclusive car waited. Oden slid to a stop and dropped to his back, pulling out the small multi-tool he’d been given by Dirk. He flipped it open and pried off the cover of the control panel. In quick movement he cut two wires, stripped the covering, and crossed the wires, twining them together. The car gave a beep and the two doors popped open, gently gliding up. Jack and Calen immediately went to work, folding the front seats forward to make space for their frantic jump into the snug back seats while Oden climbed to his feet.
By the time he and Randal were ready to climb in, Calen and Jack had folded themselves into the back seat.
“Why did you pick this car?” Calen grumbled, as Randal and Oden pulled the doors down, just as their pursuers thumped into the hover car’s engine.
“You’ll see,” Oden said, throwing the angry men a wink.
He pressed his thumb into the ignition button and the engine roared to life, lifting the car a meter above the ground. The two men jumped back, their legs feeling the singe of hot air coming out from under the hover car.
In quick succession, Oden flicked a few switches and pulled upward on the steering wheel. The “roadster” jerked upward, taking off in an almost vertical climb. They reached the first line of air-bound traffic and Oden gave the touchy steering wheel a gentle twist, veering away from the official lanes. Other hover cars honked at his reckless move.
Oden scanned the skies, looking for the hover car chasing them. He swerved into the traffic, slowing to the posted speed limits as his eyes scanned his mirrors. Within seconds, he spotted the silver vehicle coming down on them from above.
In a move none of them expected, Oden jerked up, pushing the v18 engine to the max as he directed them straight at the silver hover car. The men in his car, including Randal, screamed, bracing themselves against the ceiling and door.
“I’ve always wanted to play chicken,” he said as they gasped for breath.
As he expected, the silver car veered off at the last second, clearing the skies for him. He kept his foot pressed to th
e floor, sending the Mclaren skyrocketing up into the upper reaches of the city. They neared the second tier of air-bound traffic and Oden eased off the throttle, eyeing the gaps in the traffic. When he spotted one large enough, he slammed back onto the throttle until the men took to screaming again.
Just as he planned, they shot through the gap, bringing another chorus of honks.
Oden kept half his attention on his mirrors, expecting a monumental crash as their pursuers tried to mimic his flying. To his annoyance, a large gap appeared in the traffic, allowing them to pass through without effort.
“Dammit,” he grumbled as he gave the steering wheel a sharp flick, sending the hover car into a spin.
Once again his passengers cried out as they slammed into the side of the small vehicle, throwing it off balance. Oden gripped the wheel, adjusting his steering. He caught sight of the silver hover car and loosened his grip, allowing his own vehicle to continue to spin again until he reached the direction he wanted.
At just the right moment, he countered the spin and slammed down on the throttle, sending the Mclaren rocketing off in between two skyscrapers.
“Are you nuts?” Calen yelled from the back.
“No. Just a better pilot than you,” Oden said, poking at his friend as he eyed the buildings whizzing past them. “Which direction is the mountain?”
“On your six, I think,” Randal said.
“Excellent,” Oden said as he yanked on the lever for the flap breaks and jerked on the wheel at the same time.
Their hover car slid around the building, the back end fish-tailing wide, just as he had intended. He slammed back down on the throttle, releasing the flap breaks. The overpowered vehicle took off like a rocket, leaving their pursuers to scramble after them as they struggled to match his turn.
“Hold on,” he suggested as he pulled his foot off the throttle and punched the ignition button.
The engine cut off and the vehicle began to plummet. Once again, the three men screamed and Oden rolled his eyes in annoyance.
Bunch of pansies, he thought to himself as his internal clock counted the seconds.
The silver vehicle shot over them and Oden jabbed the ignition button. The engine thrummed to life and Oden slammed down on the throttle as he pulled up on the steering wheel, sending them off after the silver vehicle, just as shots rang out and the glass in the passenger back window shattered.
Broken & Hunted Page 25
