Natasha waved her pistol dismissively, and for a moment, Ava felt like she could almost hear what Natasha was thinking. What about him? He’s not my concern.
Alex shrugged. “Got it.”
“Okay.” Natasha ducked another row of bullets. “I’m going to take that as a yes. Now—on my go—head down the stairs and into the convention hall.”
“Wait—you want us to go back down to the tournament? While someone’s trying to kill Ava? That’s crazy.” Alex looked confused.
Natasha rolled her eyes. “Would you rather she stayed out here?”
The wall exploded above them, raining plaster down on their heads.
“Good point.” Alex nodded.
“Now!” Natasha Romanoff raced toward the stairwell and slammed open the door. They dove through it as she fired at the sky. The bullets followed.
Ava reached the bottom of the stairwell first, stumbling through the dim interior corridor and into the brightly lit lobby of the convention center. The easy-listening soundtrack piped through the public hall threw her off—until Alex came sprinting after her, and she remembered why they were running.
A moment later, Natasha appeared, stopping only to shove every firearm back into a strap, holster, or waistband that looked perfectly designed to camouflage its weapon. “Walk,” she hissed. “Keep your head down and your back to the street entrance.”
They slowed to what felt like an exaggerated stride. Now they pushed through the massive row of lobby doors that opened into Hall H, the crowded tournament space. The three of them threaded their way through, moving between strips where athletes were still fencing their first-round pools.
Ava winced as she heard the same lobby doors clang open again behind them. Natasha’s voice followed a second later, low and deadly serious.
“You,” she said to Alex. “You’re not safe anymore, either. You have to keep moving or they’ll take you to get to us.”
“Got it, moving,” he said.
Natasha didn’t falter. “Our friends are inside. Dark Windbreakers. Black backpacks. Maybe twenty meters behind. Whatever you do, don’t turn around. And whatever you see, keep going.” She pulled her cap down over her face.
“Shouldn’t we be running?” Ava asked, her eyes on the floor.
Natasha shook her head, almost imperceptibly. “No. You’re dressed like everyone else in this room, right? These really stylish fencing uniforms?” She glanced sideways. “So split up and blend in. Don’t draw attention. Cross through the convention hall to the far exit, the one closest to the river. I’ll meet you on the street.”
Alex nodded. Ava didn’t say a word.
Natasha moved her hand to the concealed pistol at her waistband and cut away from them without another warning.
Ava felt the adrenaline course through her body. It all seemed so desperate and so dangerous. For all she knew this could be a trap, meant to make her think the Avenger was on her side, if only so she would let her guard down.
And even if we make it, then what?
Ava didn’t want to think about it.
She had to trust Black Widow, at least for now.
She didn’t have a choice, even if all she believed were the sounds of the guns pointed in her direction. There was no other way.
Ava was interrupted by a familiar shout, and she turned to catch a glimpse of Oksana hurtling toward an opponent on the strip.
Suddenly the idea of competing with rubber-tipped blades seemed a whole lot less intimidating than it ever had. The blades in this room were fake; the guns were very real.
And what if we don’t make it? Ava imagined the shots ringing out, the people running. The chaos and the crowding as everyone tried to get to the exits.
Red blood spattered across white Kevlar, dripping off the American flags—
Ava shuddered. She glanced over her shoulder to the metal strip, almost involuntarily. Oksana’s arms were raised in victory, and she ripped off her mask.
It all seemed so pointless now—
Still, it gave her an idea. The mask.
Keep your head down. Blend in. Wasn’t that what Natasha said?
Ava ducked into the crowd of cheering bystanders next to Oksana’s strip, swiping a mask from where it sat unused on the gym floor and ripping off the duct tape bearing her name from her back.
She slid it over her head without breaking stride. When she reached the next strip, she pulled a random blade from a fencing bag resting on a folding chair.
Across the gym, Alex took her cue and pulled his white jacket on over his T-shirt, swiping a USFA cap off the vendor tables as he passed by.
Along the perimeter, Natasha Romanoff casually joined a team of medics carrying an injured boy off the floor—grabbing his bandaged legs with her hand.
As the men in black fanned out through the hall, searching for them, fencers kept scoring and horns kept sounding and crowds kept cheering.
It was the longest walk of Ava’s life, but she made it.
They made it.
Natasha was the last one out. “We’re not in the clear yet. Keep walking.” She motioned to Alex and Ava, and they fell into step with her. “We’ve got to get to the river; come on.”
“The river? Why the river?” Alex looked sideways at her.
“That’s where our ride is,” Natasha said. “Good parking.” She held up her wrist, where something vaguely resembling a black digital watch glowed. “If we can make it.”
Fine. To the river, thought Ava.
They kept heading toward the Delaware River waterfront that glittered in the distance, maybe eight blocks away. Ava couldn’t seem to make the pavement move quickly enough beneath her feet.
Seven—
Six—
Five—
A black SUV skidded around the corner.
A man in black protective gear fired a machine gun at them from the open window of the SUV, spinning to get back into position.
Natasha rolled behind a parked minivan.
Ava and Alex took cover one car behind her.
Natasha seemed fearless—calm, even—in spite of automatic weapons targeting the street around her. She shouted back at them. “I’m going to go have a little chat with our friend. I get the feeling he wants to tell me something. You guys keep going until you get down to the riverbank.” Natasha took off, leaving Ava and Alex behind.
Alex glanced at Ava. “You know, your CIA friend is pretty hardcore. I almost feel bad for the shooter.”
Ava didn’t smile back. “She’s really not CIA.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, right. And those aren’t really guns in her pants.”
Ava took a breath.
This is wrong. He shouldn’t be here, and he shouldn’t be with me. Even if I want more than anything for him to stay.
Ava had to let him go. Push him away. She took a breath. “But you’re right. She can handle it from here.” She tried to sound convincing. “And this isn’t your problem. None of it is. If I were you, I’d go home, Alex.”
“Right. Okay.” Alex hesitated. “So why don’t you, then?”
“Maybe I will,” Ava said.
She didn’t move, though. Neither did he.
In the distance, Ava could see Natasha was now engaging the SUV in some kind of firefight, baiting it into approaching her. Leading the car away from them.
Natasha looked back at them. “What are you waiting for?” she bellowed in their direction.
But Ava still didn’t move. She couldn’t. She found herself staring at the bumper in front of her.
Frozen.
We should just keep running. Go home. Both of us.
Only bad things happen when I’m around her, when anyone is.
Maybe that’s why they call her the Black Widow.
The shooter must have seen them, because now he began to fire in their direction. Steam erupted from a bullet hole in the back of the car, just above Ava’s head.
“Ava!” Alex grabbed her and pulled.
/> They crawled out from behind the car and started to walk, just as Natasha had shown them before. Heads down. Not looking back.
Alex kept his voice quiet, talking steadily as they moved down the street. “I have a weird feeling that I’m not supposed to leave you, Ava. Not like this.”
“You get a lot of weird feelings?”
“Only when guns are involved.” Alex didn’t let go of her hand. “I’m not stupid. I know you’re in trouble—and I know that cop isn’t your friend.”
“Yeah, well, she’s not a cop, either,” Ava said.
“Whatever she is and whatever this is, it’s too much for one person. I mean, I can help.” He looked at her. “If you want me.”
Of course I want you. I spend every night with you, don’t I?
But Ava said nothing.
The sound of gunfire ripping up the sidewalk behind them echoed in the distance as if to make his point, and they moved even faster.
Alex squeezed her hand. “You don’t have to do this alone.”
It’s too late—I don’t know any other way.
They were only a few blocks from the river now.
Ava didn’t know what to say. What could she? That nobody could help, and nobody ever had? That she’d always known this day was coming? That Ivan would come back to her and finish what he’d started?
I can’t trust anyone, Alexei Manorovsky. Not even you.
But she realized Alex was still holding her hand. He was still walking through the gunfire with her. He was still right there next to her. He hadn’t taken off, and he hadn’t let go. Even though he barely knows me.
Alex was somehow different. He was good, and he was innocent. He still had heroes, just like Oksana. Ava had watched him long enough every night to know that.
And for the first time since 7B, Ava wondered if she really was better off on her own. For a moment, she wondered if she ever really had been.
“Ava. I’m serious. Do you want me to stay?”
Ava glimpsed the same unbridled energy—the warrior Alex—that had gotten him the black card.
She could almost hear him thinking out loud.
Say the word, and I’ll take on the world with you—
I’m ready to fight, so bring it—
Ava wanted to let him. But Alexei Manorovsky was never meant to be in this story. It wasn’t his fault she had dreamed him into her life, however it had happened. It was still her dream, not his.
Dreams, she corrected herself. Because there have been many. And because I’ve known you for a long time now, Alexei. Even if you don’t know me.
Ava had a sudden thought, for the second time that day.
Maybe this is what destiny feels like.
Maybe I can’t stop this from happening.
I can’t stop myself from dreaming, and I can’t put aside my memories.
Maybe I can’t even hide from Ivan Somodorov anymore.
The next time Alex asked, Ava let herself nod.
“Yes.”
I can’t do this alone, and I don’t want to.
“Please. Stay.” She squeezed his hand.
By the time the words were out of her mouth, Alex was off and running, pulling her toward the river as if he’d known what she was going to say all along.
Ava and Alex were only a half block or so away from the water when Ava looked behind her. Natasha was still in a firefight with the man in the black car. She could hear sirens in the distance, and she knew it would be over in a matter of minutes, one way or another.
What the—
Ava heard tires screech and looked up.
Alex was shouting.
A second black SUV spun around the corner, slamming into a parked car only a few feet away.
“Get out of there!” Natasha was yelling to her.
The parked car exploded into a ball of fire, and they took off, running as fast as they could.
Ava heard footsteps behind them.
Gunfire.
She only squeezed Alex’s hand more tightly as they ran.
No—
Not now—
Not like this.
They sprinted across the last road between them and the river, slowing only at the edge of the bridge. The water loomed dangerously far below.
A round of bullets bit into the ground next to them. Rubble spewed into the air, and they dove to either side.
“The river. Now!” Alex didn’t hesitate. “Come on!” He hurled himself over the railing and vanished over the edge of the bridge.
Ava hesitated—and then jumped over the barricade without a word.
I’m not going to die—
I’m not going to let Ivan Somodorov kill me—
I’m not finished yet.
Ava reached out with her arms and grabbed at the railing behind her as she fell. Instead of dropping into the freezing water, she anchored a hand to the rail and pushed off, in one smooth motion, twisting to break her fall by kicking, attack style, off the pilings below.
Ava flipped forward to land on two feet in the wet sand, splashing down into an inch of water before rising back to a standing position.
Alex, who was dangling by both hands from the bridge above her, kicked his legs over to the side.
He took a deep breath and bounced off the bridge a few times, scrabbling for a handhold as he dropped—finally managing to land in the water next to Ava.
One way or another.
They were safe.
Ava was still panting as she grinned and held out her fist. “That—was—awesome.”
Alex bumped it with his own, nodding as he tried to catch his breath. “We’re not dead—so yeah—more awesome than I thought.”
“Not at all—dead,” Ava agreed, taking one more deep breath.
He leaned his head back, gulping down oxygen. “Do you do this a lot?”
“Never in my life,” Ava said, standing straight again.
In fact, she’d never done anything remotely like it before. As far as risky behaviors went, Ava had limited her own to hopping subway turnstiles and ripping off S.H.I.E.L.D.
So why now? What was changing?
“Me neither,” Alex said. “Nothing like this, I mean.” Then he smiled. “My mom would freak.”
They looked back up to the bridge—just as Natasha Romanoff smashed the head of the second shooter into the metal railing.
His now unconscious body dropped to the ground, and Natasha straightened herself. She leaned forward over the railing and looked down to Ava and Alex.
“You stuck the landing,” Natasha shouted, looking surprised. “Even a Russian judge would have to give that a ten.”
Ava couldn’t read the look on her face. It was only then that she scanned the entire height of the bridge.
By her calculation, they had jumped more than twenty-five feet.
I kicked Oksana’s butt in a bout, I took sniper fire on the roof of a building, and I leaped off a bridge.
Ava watched as the Black Widow performed an almost identical move off the concrete girders and down to the sand below.
What is happening to me?
S.H.I.E.L.D. EYES ONLY
CLEARANCE LEVEL X
LINE-OF-DUTY DEATH [LODD] INVESTIGATION
REF: S.H.I.E.L.D. CASE 121A415
AGENT IN COMMAND [AIC]: PHILLIP COULSON
RE: AGENT NATASHA ROMANOFF A.K.A. BLACK WIDOW, A.K.A. NATASHA ROMANOVA
TRANSCRIPT: DEPARTMENT OF DEFENSE, LODD INQUIRY HEARINGS
DOD: Let’s talk about Moscow’s favorite finishing school for super spies and sleeper agents.
ROMANOFF: The Red Room? It’s all in my file, sir.
DOD: And the Black Widow program? Top Gun for Red Room girls, as it were?
ROMANOFF: You already know all of this.
DOD: I know Black Widows were for deep cover. And, as such, Moscow gave you false histories and manipulated your memories.
ROMANOFF: You mean brainwashing? You can just say it.
DOD: What about yo
ur handlers? They were trained to erase and implant memories? To flip one switch in your head when they needed a ballet dancer and to flip another one when they needed, what? A ballet-dancer assassin?
ROMANOFF: I was whatever they told me to be.
DOD: You let them make that call.
ROMANOFF: I was serving my country, sir.
DOD: Like Ivan Somodorov.
ROMANOFF: Ivan Somodorov only serves Ivan Somodorov.
DOD: While you were what? A patriot?
ROMANOFF: A patriot and a ballet-dancer assassin.
THE DELAWARE RIVER
THE CITY OF BROTHERLY LOVE
Sirens wailed in the air, echoing off the pavement above them.
Down at the water’s edge, safely hidden beneath the bridge overpass, the three convention-center escapees seemed to be safe.
At least for now.
The moment Natasha reached Ava and Alex, she could tell by their faces that the euphoria of escape was quickly fading into shock. She had been expecting it—from both of them, really. She was more surprised that they had kept it together this long.
People trying to kill you. It’s unsettling. But you get used to it.
I did.
“First they’re on the roof, then in the convention center; now they’re on the streets.” Alex shook his head. “Whoever hired these guys, he’s really getting his money’s worth.”
“Yeah, well.” Natasha wiped her forehead on her sleeve. “Russian mercenaries. There’s a certain pride in workmanship there. Speaking of which, I had a nice chat with our shooter in the black SUV.”
“Was he Ivan’s?” Ava asked.
Natasha nodded. “Ivan Somodorov’s personal military police force. And—spoiler alert—there’s plenty more where he came from.”
“This guy has his own police department?” Alex asked, incredulous.
“Devoted entirely to Ava, it seems.” Natasha looked at her, clapping her arm awkwardly down on her shoulder. “Welcome home, sestra.”
Ava pulled her arm away, but she didn’t attempt a right hook, so Natasha considered it progress.
“Wait—more where he came from? How many more?” Alex asked.
“Does it matter?” Natasha shrugged. She knew it didn’t. It only takes one bullet to kill a person, ptenets. Ivan had taught her that before the Russian alphabet.
Black Widow: Forever Red Page 9
