Taylor pulled the car off the wall and slowed his speed, to keep from following them in their downhill tumble. Thankfully, the remaining bike and jeep also slowed in response to the destruction of their compatriot. For an hour, they slowly followed behind Taylor, sometimes with the chase reaching a heart pounding twenty miles an hour, as everyone became more focused on not plummeting off the side of the road. Occasionally, one of the men from the jeep would get a clear shot, and a bullet would smack into the cliff face or punch into the car, but after the excitement from the beginning of the chase, this made for a strange interlude.
Taylor had the benefit of position and hit open road first, pushing the car to its limit as soon as he was able. The jeep had made slower progress and had fallen well behind, but the bike wasn’t far behind at all, and was shortly picking up speed.
Taylor continued trying to swipe the bike, keeping it from coming alongside, but the road in the section as they closed the last few miles to the border, was just too wide and the asphalt too slick for Taylor to be aggressive enough to keep the bike at bay.
Finally, Taylor misjudged the bike's move and it could dash past. The driver must have remembered Taylor’s move with the first biker because he chose to not remain next to the car, but instead passed and worked to stay ahead, turning, and firing back into the car as he did right before Taylor had made the turn up the hillside. As before, his accuracy was not amazing, but he was focusing more on the front grill of the car, instead of the occupants. Not only was it a much bigger target that the head of a guy behind the steering wheel, but enough bullets through the radiator and into the engine block would be enough to keep them from getting across the border. And on foot, they’d be sitting ducks.
Unfortunately for Taylor, he didn’t have a turn available to put him past the biker, but he did get a piece of luck. The biker had slowed as he turned and started punching holes into the car. Taylor let the car slow, forcing the bike to slow and turn to keep the distance from getting enough that he would have been unable to hit even the front of the car.
Taylor waited until they dropped about fifteen miles per hour off their speed before punching the gas again. The biker must have thought the slowdown was from the damage he was causing because he hadn’t been ready for Taylor’s move. As the front of the car came even with the back wheel of the bike, Taylor swiped over, smashing the front of his bumper against the fat rubber tire.
The bike twisted across the front of the car and up in a corkscrew, the handlebars missing the top of Taylor’s car by inches and creating a screeching sound as it scraped across the top before hurtling off the side of the road.
Its driver ended up on Taylor’s hood, making what even Taylor had to admit was a miraculous grab, one hand finding the edge of the hood where the windshield wipers were housed and gripping on for dear life, his body splayed out across the front of the vehicle.
Unfortunately for that man, the grab wouldn’t save his life. Taylor extended his pistol and put a bullet through the open face plate of the helmet. As Taylor’s shot punched through the man’s brain, his hand released its grip on the car, and the rushing wind and slight skidding of motion caused his body to fling off the side of the hood, following his bike's progress off the road.
Taylor was nearing the border now, close enough to see the guard arm that sat across the road ahead, the border guards nowhere in sight. He could also see three vehicles parked across the border, one with a wicked machine gun mounted on a turret. Taylor hoped that was Andre and his men since that last shot at the biker had emptied the gun Kara had taken in the mansion, leaving him low on options.
That consideration quickly became moot as Taylor’s luck since smashing out of the compound ran out. A bullet from one of the men in the jeep behind him found his back tire, blowing it out spectacularly. One moment Taylor had control of the vehicle as he was hurtling toward the border, and the next the now uncovered steel rim bit into the frozen asphalt and the car went airborne. It flipped repeatedly as its hood then wheels then hood again smashed into the ground.
Taylor heard the girls scream, then everything blacked out.
CHAPTER 17
Berlin, Germany
Taylor stepped off the plane into the early morning sunlight, adjusting the strap of the sling holding his arm in place. Four days had passed since the chase from Malik’s compound, and he was happy to finally be out of Russia.
As promised, Andre had been waiting for him with other members of the FSB, ready to pull Taylor’s ass out of the fire as soon as they got across the border. The crash across the border coupled with the bodies Taylor had left in his wake, had stirred up both the American diplomatic corps and the Russians. There had been a few tense moments where it seemed Taylor might not be allowed to leave the country, at all. Those officials who’d been receiving regular payments from Malik to allow him to operate freely, were less than happy Taylor had shut off their payday, and tried to make Taylor pay for it.
Andre had put his neck on the line again, defending Taylor, while Suzette Caldwell rallied enough diplomatic pressure that it was decided the best option for everyone would be to sweep it under the rug and get Taylor out of the country.
Taylor winced as he slowly walked down the stairs, the stitches in his side pulling slightly. Thankfully, Andre had had a medic standing ready, who had come to their aid the moment the Mercedes had stopped its spectacular tumble onto Russian soil. They had managed to pull Taylor and the girls out of the stoutly built car, banged up, but alive. They'd all been rushed into a chopper Andre had somehow gotten his hands on, and had been flown back to St. Petersburg.
The bullet Taylor had taken in the compound had only clipped his intestines, but otherwise passed through without hitting anything vital. The surgeon who’d fixed him promised he would be stiff for a while, but wouldn’t have any lasting problems. Besides the bullet wound, Taylor had dislocated his shoulder and elbow in the crash and sustained more cuts, some deep, along his neck and opposite shoulder.
Turning, Taylor reached his hand out to help Mary Jane down the ladder that had extended from the plane. She had by far the most severe damage, having shattered multiple bones in her left leg. The surgeons had pieced her back together, but said she would probably have more extensive surgeries in the future to get full use of the limb back.
As soon as the girl was firmly on the ground, Taylor moved aside as her mother rushed forward and swept her little girl into her arms. Taylor turned away from them to give the two some privacy, or at least as much as was possible on a tarmac surrounded by security people and officials. He looked at the last person coming off the plane.
Although Kara came out of the crash the best of all, suffering no serious damage at all, she looked by far the worst. The right side of her face was covered in bruises, which traveled down her neck and disappeared into her shirt, which hid even worse bruising. Her right eye was just now losing the swelling that had held it closed for several days, and seemed totally at odds with the giant smile plastered on her face as she stepped off the plane.
“What are you grinning at?” Taylor asked.
“I’m not in Russia anymore!” she said, looking at him with her one good eye. “I really got out!”
“We’re not out of the woods yet, kid. I still need to talk to Mary Jane’s mother, and see if we can figure out how to get you into the US, permanently.”
“You’ll figure it out.”
“See if you can pry Mary Jane loose and hang out with her, while I talk to her mother.”
The girls had spent a fair amount of time together over the last few days and found they actually hit it off. Both seemed to have a very similar sense of humor, although Kara’s could be vicious at times. They had convinced one orderly they were sisters, and had spun wilder and wilder tales that had the poor guy’s head spinning until Taylor had clued him in.
Taylor was pretty sure Kara had spent some time talking to Mary Jane, giving her some perspective on what her life could have be
en if they hadn’t gotten her out. It had seemed to be another in a series of gut checks for the party girl, and hopefully would be a turning point for her.
The senator wiped her eyes as she let Kara lead her daughter a few steps away, and tried to compose herself.
“Mr. Taylor, I can’t even begin to think of how I will ever repay you for this. I had hoped, but I didn’t think . . . you really did it. You found her and brought her back.”
“I’m sorry she got so banged up.”
“I’ve read some reports out of Russia about what happened. It’s a miracle the leg was the only thing injured. No, you did phenomenal work, and I will forever be in your debt.”
“While I don’t normally like to jump right in calling in favors, I do have one thing I need from you.”
“Name it.”
“I need a permanent US residence status for Kara,” Taylor said, tilting his head in the girl's direction.
“That’s the . . . working girl who helped you?” she said, sounding skeptical.
“Senator,” Taylor said, his voice becoming hard as granite, “she is what your daughter would have become, forced to do things you wouldn’t even want to think about. Had it not been for her, not only would I have not found your daughter, we would have died in that compound, and your daughter would be the ‘working girl.'”
“Ohh,” she said, taking a step back at the sudden anger that sprang off Taylor, “Of course. I didn’t mean anything by that, I promise you.”
“Of course,” Taylor said, letting the anger fade from his voice, “I just want you to understand that, as much as you think you owe me, you owe her just as much. Not only did she save my life, she was already out of danger when she put herself back in the hands of those men, to stay next to your daughter and help lead me to her. Had things not gone right, she would have given up her chance to escape that life.”
“Of course, and I’ll help however I can. Off the top of my head, I’d say the easiest would be to use an existing program for minors with legitimate fear in their home country, to be fostered by an American. Past that, I can talk to some people I know and see about getting a special Visa, but that will take more time.”
“If the foster thing is faster, let's do that. But I also want a way for her to become a citizen, if possible. I promised her I would do everything I could to make that happen.”
“I can work on that. Given time, I don’t think it will be an issue.”
“Can I take her back with me today, or do we need to stay here while you make the arrangements?”
“No, she can go with you. I’ll have my office take care of it and have everything set up when you land.”
“Thank you, Senator,” Taylor said.
“Like I said, Mr. Taylor . . . I owe you more than I can ever repay. Apparently the same goes for . . .”
“Kara,” Taylor said.
“Kara as well. Anything I can ever do for the two of you, all you have to do is ask.”
“Well, I still appreciate it. Of course, now I have to talk to Whitaker about this.”
Caldwell let out a giggle that sounded wildly out of place for her, “Now that, I can’t help you with.”
“Go get your daughter,” Taylor said, “I know she starts hurting after standing a while. She’s probably ready for more rest.”
“Yes. I told my pilot to carry you on to the states at your convenience. I’ve set up a consult with a specialist for Mary Jane this afternoon, but I think you’re right. I should probably get her back to the hotel for some rest before then. Goodbye Mr. Taylor.”
Taylor nodded as she walked away and Kara made her way back to him.
“OK, let's get back on board,” Taylor said.
“You mean I can go to America?”
“Yes, but with a few rules. The senator can get you authorization to stay when we land, but you have to be fostered by a citizen. Which means you will probably end up living with me and my girlfriend, which I know isn’t . . .”
“I can do that,” she said, a smile plastered on her face.
“I also have to get her OK on this. If she says no, I will find someone else to sponsor you, but I think she will say yes. That was the one legal requirement, but I have some of my own requirements you have to agree to.”
“What are they?” she said, her face falling.
“You’ve never had any formal schooling, so I’m not sure how this will work; but, you’ll have to do the work toward getting at least a high school education. It'll mean a lot of catching up, but you’re damned smart, so I think you can do it. It will take work, though.”
“OK,” she said, the smile starting to return.
“And you have to go to weekly counseling.”
“You mean a psychologist?” she said, her smile disappearing completely.
“Yes. This is not negotiable. You’ve had a lifetime of abuse, and you’ve built a lot of defenses to protect yourself. That was important for your life, then; but you need to deal with that abuse now, and work on taking down those walls.”
“I don’t think I . . .”
“I know, and trust me, I get it. But like I said, this is nonnegotiable.”
“Fine,” she said, frowning.
“OK. Now let's get on the plane. I’m ready to go home.”
Washington, DC
Taylor walked out of the airport, mentally bracing himself. He’d talked to Whitaker on the plane, and told her he had something they needed to discuss but refused to tell her specifics. This was the kind of conversation that needed to happen in person, and he’d spent the rest of the flight dreading it.
Of course, even with that, it was a hell of a lot better flight than the last time Whitaker had picked him up at the airport. Taylor wasn’t sure how he was ever going to get used to flying coach again, after being spoiled by the luxury of a private jet.
“Hey . . .” Whitaker said, leaning on the hood of her SUV, before stopping, freezing in place, her eyes falling on the bruised girl following in Taylor’s wake.
“Could you wait in the car?” Taylor said to Kara in English.
He’d switched to only using English on the plane. Kara’s English was passable if rough, and the sooner she was immersed in the language, the better.
The girl looked apprehensively at Whitaker, nodded, and hopped into the back seat of the SUV. She didn’t have any luggage to deal with, because she didn’t actually own anything.
“What the hell?” Whitaker asked.
“This is what we needed to talk about. Remember that girl I told you about?”
“The one you bought at the auction?”
“Yes. She put herself in a lot of danger helping me find the senator’s daughter, then she saved my life. I promised her I would find a way to get her into the country.”
“OK, I get that. Knowing you, I’m not surprised you offered to help her get out of that life, even without her helping you. That doesn’t explain why she’s in my car.”
“I talked to the senator about how I could get her into the country, and it seems that since she’s a minor, the most direct way would be for a citizen to foster her. At least until something more permanent can be worked out.”
“Wait,” Whitaker said, taking a step back and pointing at the SUV, “You mean you expect me to accept having a pros—”
“Loretta,” Taylor said harshly, “Don’t do that. Don’t call her that. I swear to God I don’t understand why you people insist on seeing her as a . . . I don’t know. This girl was taken from her home as a child, hell, she’s still a child and sold into the sex trade. She . . . is . . . a . . . victim! Period! I will not have you treating her as something . . . else.”
“Fine. I’m sorry. And I know your hero complex, you couldn’t stop yourself, but why does it have to be with us?”
“I could say it’s because she saved my life and I owe her, which is true; but it’s also because . . . this girl doesn’t trust a lot of people. She has had a shitty life, and for some reason, she has decided
she’s OK with me. Could I find her someone else to live with? Yes, and if you say 'no,' then I’ll do that. I won’t force this decision on you. But, I’m asking you to give it a try.”
Whitaker looked at him hard for a minute then said, “Fine, we’ll give it a try. She can have the spare room. You know, one day this knight in shining armor thing’s gonna cause you some problems.”
The Wrong Girl (John Taylor Book 3) Page 26
