by Wylder Stone
Danger On the Run
On the Run Series, Book 3
Wylder Stone
Contents
Read Wylder Stone
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Author Biography
More from Wylder Stone
COPYRIGHT © 2021
Wylder Stone
Danger On the Run
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, or other status is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever known, not known or hereafter invented, or stored in any storage or retrieval system, is forbidden and punishable by the fullest extent of the law without written permission of the author.
EDITING, COVER DESIGN, and FORMATTING PROVIDED BY: 5 Pines Publishing
Read Wylder Stone
On the Run Series
* * *
Witness On the Run
Vengeance on the Run
Danger on the Run
Deception on the Run
Murderer on the Run
Exposed on the Run
Stranger on the Run
Reckless on the Run
Corruption on the Run
Betrayed on the Run
Hostage on the Run
1
It didn’t surprise her because she expected it, really. Most women wouldn’t go out at such a late hour – alone – because they received a cryptic text message, but Genevieve Huff wasn’t most women. She was smart, savvy, and trained by the best. She was taught to protect herself by any and all means – again, by the best. And now, she was being followed.
She lived in a world where it seemed everyone was out to get you. This time, she was certain they were. Just to confirm her suspicion and rule out paranoia, she changed her route. Would they continue to follow, or was this just a coincidence? Genevieve didn’t believe in coincidence. She believed in instincts, trusting her gut, and believed everything had a purpose and there was purpose in everything.
What was the purpose of this escapade? Time would tell. What she did know was that this wasn’t random. It never was in her line of work. It wasn’t a case of wrong place at the wrong time – quite the opposite. Genevieve was in exactly the right place at the right time, and she was ready for whatever storm was about to descend. The minute she left the safe confines of the Elite Building, she knew it was game on.
Making several turns over the next handful of city blocks, Genevieve was careful to stay in a well-lit, populated area until she had the mark on her tail. Were they big, small, likely a man or woman? Anything she could gather gave her the upper hand, especially stripping them of the element of surprise and claiming it for herself. Though it was late, the area was anything but asleep. In this part of Santa Marina, it was a 24-hour shit show, where old industrial met a new trend of renovated urban living, and the gritty line between the two was grossly blurred from one street corner to the next.
Unlike her oceanfront residence in a newer, recently renovated, upscale part of town, this place was a mixed bag of families and vagrants – some fallen on hard times, some up to no good, and some part of the revitalization of an otherwise seedy part of town. Even with a strong police presence, there was no comfort as she continued. Genevieve had to keep moving and push everything else aside since her past – one she thought had been dead and buried – had requested a meeting. Demanded rather.
As she watched the reflection cast on the row of storefront windows, it was confirmed. His tall, bulky build and long stride with a certain swagger told her it was a man. Sure, some women could fit that description, but once paired with the broad shoulders and what she could see of his attire in the reflections, her profile seemed to fit more than it didn’t. His head was down, his face camouflaged by a billed hat – not that the dimly lit streetlamps would reveal a face through the reflection anyway. If he was trying to be elusive and blend in, he was doing a pretty shitty job at it.
Never assume, she reminded herself. Never guess, never underestimate, and treat them all as your greatest threat. That had been lesson one in her training, meaning this could be a woman. Albeit, a rather large, masculine woman. It didn’t matter, though. If it was a woman, she’d kick her ass too.
Picking up her pace, Genevieve lured her stalker to the edge of the city life and into a quieter part of town, where fewer people were out in the open and were more likely to lurk in the shadows. The streets were dimmer here, and there were plenty of alleys to dip into that were even darker. A playground for mischief and sin.
This had all been a setup. A trap. Revenge. The mysterious man tailing her was the finisher in an organized crime plot where her head was the prize. Plot twist – she was the finisher. She was setting up her own trap for revenge.
With nearly an entire city block lead, she veered a quick left into a long, dark alley that was plenty quiet. Lined on both sides with dumpsters, old, broken-down furniture, and debris, it hosted the perfect stage for what was about to unfold. Out of sight, Genevieve fell into a brisk jog before ducking into the dark recessed doorway of an old brick building, completely camouflaged by the inky shadows of the night’s sky.
Then she waited. With her eyes closed, she calmed her breathing and clung to the senses that would alert her to her predator’s presence. Genevieve pushed down the panic trying to spill over and consume her. She would reconcile the what, how, and why when the threat pursuing her was in check. Right now, she needed to fight and take down her would-be assailant. She’d ask questions later.
Years ago, Genevieve stopped being a victim and committed to being a full-time badass when she was forced to engage in criminal activity disguised as a real nine-to-five job. Recruited by a cybersecurity firm, she’d been breaking into some of the world’s biggest financial institutions, big money companies, and private sector individuals with deep pocket accounts. It was under the guise that their security was weak, and their company was offering an upgrade. She was tech-savvy and a brilliant hacker, but she was naïve and unknowing. There wasn’t a security firm. She wasn’t testing their software. She was stealing.
Genevieve fell for the very scheme she had been engaged in. Rather than hacking in to expose cyber weaknesses with benign consequences, she was funneling money into offshore accounts instead. When she hacked her employer and realized she had been stealing for him all along, she threatened to expose him. Naïve.
A felon title behind her name and a stint in prison didn’t fit her resume. She opted to work with the group that inevitably took down the crime ring as an informant and still worked with them to this day. Elite Force Security. She was good at what she did, too good to waste in a prison – especially since it wasn’t of her own volition but that of blackmail. When she confronted her boss, he upped the ante and forced Genevieve to continue doing what she had been doing for him in order to save her mom and sister, who were held captive until Genevieve finished what she starte
d.
It wasn’t clear how the Forces got to keep her as an employee rather than hand her over to the feds, but it didn’t matter much to her. She lost her family in the deal. They didn’t make it out. The Forces became her family and would have her ass if they knew that she was about to go toe-to-toe with the past they’d saved her from.
Those memories were quickly suppressed as the mundane sounds of the city were muffled by the approaching footsteps and whispered mumbles. He was getting closer, and she was ready, more than ready. Nerves turned to an unwavering drive fueled by years of built-up angst and rage.
The man stilled at the sound of a hissing cat and tipping trash can. It was such a cliché that she’d shake her head at it later. It was ironic that her stalker stood only feet from her, where she now stalked him completely undetected. She was good at this, or perhaps he was just really bad at it. Reminding herself who she was and that she was trained by the best, she felt an amplified sense of confidence she hadn’t had the chance to exercise until now.
When he moved on, distracted by whatever was on his watch, she stepped out from the shadows, matching him step for step as stealthily as she could. The timing was everything. It was the key to either falling victim or heroic action, and victim was no longer in her vocabulary.
In one swift move, Genevieve delivered a sharp kick between the man’s legs while he was between steps, offering the element of surprise that would lend her the upper hand. He was paralyzed by pain, affording her an unchallenged match where she began to take him down.
A grunt escaped him as she landed a knee to his side. The man was hunched over with one hand on his side and the other cupping his groin. Sliding around him, she met his jaw with her tight fist, sending his head in the opposite direction. His face then met her knee, throwing the glasses he was wearing across the dark alley. You never wore glasses to a potential fistfight. Rookie move. Granted, there wasn’t a rule book on any of this, but glasses seemed like a liability to her. Another sign that she’d been underestimated and deemed a non-threat, or he would have thought twice about the glasses that scraped across the ground.
The sound of flesh hitting flesh and cracking of either bones or joints left her feeling bold. Dropping her elbow into the center of his exposed back forced the man to his knees. This was far too easy. The man wasn’t fighting back. It became obvious and distracted her. He was at least a foot taller and had one hundred pounds on her, all muscle, given the firm meeting her fist made with each blow.
She continued to fight, though her motivation was shifting. Genevieve had a sudden sense of fear and desperation wash over her. This felt like a setup, and she was playing into the scheme. Fighting a man twice her size and winning didn’t seem logical but letting her win and wear herself out seemed like the perfect plan to take her without a fight. Because she wouldn’t have any fight left. Paranoia settled in as the man continued to take her beating, and threatening thoughts consumed her mind along with a building sense of panic.
Genevieve was disabling him, hurting him even, but he wasn’t going down. Not as hard as she had hoped anyway, and she was getting tired. Was that what he wanted? The fact he wasn’t fighting back spoke volumes. He was waiting her out. Fear took over, but she couldn’t let him up because running would be her only option, and she was done running.
“Not today, you son of a…” She grunted, landing fist after tired fist. “You followed the wrong…bitch.”
Bitch was said softly and lacked the dramatics she was going for. It wasn’t part of her typical vocabulary, so it fell from her mouth with less conviction than she hoped for. An odd grunt escaped the man, something of a snort. He’d just laughed at her. He thought this was funny somehow.
“You think this is funny?” she fired. “You like getting your – your ass kicked by a girl? Next time, pick on someone your own size, you…buffoon!”
Another snort could be heard, but the flare in her temper it caused was short-lived because, with her next swing, he blocked her hit. With the next, he grabbed her fist, then the other. In a quick move, he spun her on her heels, pulling her against his body with her arms crossed in front of her. He held her that way, her back to his front, with a single hand while the other covered her mouth, dulling her scream.
It had been a ruse. He let her wear herself out so she would be easy to take down. Hysteria flooded her to the point she couldn’t think straight. Struggling against his embrace was pointless. He had her despite stomping on his feet and tossing her head back. He was much taller, and the back of her head only made contact with his chest, which hurt her more than him.
Breathing became harder as her body gave in to the panic coursing through her. She knew who sent him and what he was capable of. This was the end of her. She could feel it in his tight grip. Afraid to lose consciousness, she halted the struggle, giving in to his hold while she collected herself and decided what her next move was. If there was a next move.
What had she done? Why had she given in to temptation and left the safety of the Elite Force Security Building to chase a ghost? She should have told someone what was going on and that she had been contacted. Nobody knew, which meant they wouldn’t know where to look for her when they finally discovered she was missing. It would be late morning before anyone became suspicious. She didn’t know whether she had that long.
Confidence came with learning to protect herself, or so she thought. Now she realized that it was more ego than confidence that she’d been working with. The man who held her was strong. He felt like a brick wall behind her. Of course, he could overpower her. He’d outsmarted her too.
All she tried to do was protect those she cared about most and keep this as far away from them as she could. Genevieve couldn’t deal with another loss at the hands of the madman behind her current plight. It all backfired as life tended to do for her.
Scared. That summed it up. She was scared. Her plan didn’t go beyond ducking into a dark alley in a seedy part of town and kicking some guy’s ass. She didn’t have a plan B or a final move to play. The only thing she did have was the overwhelming terror that raged within her.
She was going to die tonight. She could feel it to her core. Given the stiff ridge she felt sharply poised against her back, she had to assume it wouldn’t be quick and painless. That he was going to have his way with her first.
Her stomach roiled as the bile rose to her throat at the thought of what was to come – and how it was all going to end. A single tear escaped despite trying desperately to conceal the anxiety her realization evoked.
“Are you about done, Genevieve? Or are we going to go another fucking round?” the man questioned between gritted teeth.
That voice. She knew it. Her body stiffened, and eyes narrowed as awareness washed over her.
When he released her, she quickly turned to face him. Just as quickly, she landed one more heavy fist to his eye in a heated fury.
“James.”
2
“What the hell, Genevieve?” he asked, gripping his battered jaw covered in day-old scruff. James was as clean-cut as they came. If he hadn’t shaved, it was because he had been deep in the innerwebs, pulling long nights in an attempt to keep the world safe, one computer hack at a time. Or, in this case, stalking her. He spent most of his time behind a wall of screens, hugging a keyboard. It was easier than facing real-life – for James.
Still rattled from the encounter and what she thought was impending death, Genevieve struggled to respond with anything but the truth. A truth she wasn’t willing to share. At least not yet.
“What the hell to you, James?” she fired back, cringing at her own ridiculous rebuttal.
James’s brow raised in a furrow of confusion, finding her response just as floundering as she had. “Seriously? What are you doing out here this late? Alone? In this part of town?”
Straightening her shoulders, she tossed her long blond hair behind her and raised her chin in an attempt to exude confidence that wasn’t really there. “Why were y
ou following me? That’s what I would like to know. Are you stalking me?”
Attempting to sound offended lacked the punch she was going for. James could tell she was deflecting to make this about him and not her. “Because it’s after midnight, and you’re sneaking out on an adventure on the wrong side of town. The most dangerous part of town, I might add. Why?”
“The wrong side of town?” she questioned with a guffaw. “You’re a little judgmental there, James. I could ask you the same, by the way.”
“Why are you answering all of my questions with a question, Genevieve?”
“Why are you asking so many questions, James?”
“Because you have been sneaking out late at night, getting into the office late in the mornings, and you’re acting…guilty,” he said.
“Acting guilty? Really? Says the guy who is clearly watching my every move. What did I have for breakfast, Detective?”
“A scone. From The Cloud. You also had your usual coffee drink that’s more sugar than coffee.” His stance fell wide as his arms crossed his broad chest, the brief wince on his face giving her satisfaction. She’d left a mark or two.
“Wow. Detailed.”
“I’m a details guy, Genevieve.” His smug look pissed her off.
“You’re also creepy. How’d you even find me? Or do you just watch me on all the cameras you have around the building? Let me guess, you used city cameras to follow me too.”
