Hunted

by Sharon C. Cooper

“Hold on a minute, Wiz,” Myles said and pushed the mute button on his watch. He wasn’t sure if the man was even listening, but Myles could hear him pecking away on his computer keyboard.

  He dug the keys from his front pocket and handed them to Geneva.

  “Thanks. I’ll be right back.” She turned to leave, but Myles had a sudden urge to kiss her again.

  He tugged on the back of her sweater before she could walk away, causing her to glance over her shoulder at him. Confusion marred her gorgeous face. Without a word, he pulled her close and kissed her soft lips. He would never get tired of savoring her sweetness, and kissing her was becoming his new favorite pastime.

  When the kiss ended, Geneva graced him with a sexy smile. “That was nice,” she said, wiping lipstick from his lips with the pad of her thumb. “Feel free to kiss me anytime…anywhere.”

  Myles grinned. “I plan to, and I’m sorry about tonight. I’ll make it up to you.”

  “Oh, yeah. You definitely owe me. I’m talking dinner, dancing, a little somethin’-somethin’ and anything else I can come up with. And I’m expecting you to pay up real soon.”

  Myles placed another quick kiss on her lips. “Sweetheart, I love being in your debt. It sounds like a win-win for both of us.”

  As she walked away, Myles heard Wiz calling his name, and he unmuted him.

  “Yeah, I’m here.”

  “Okay, now press the red and green button down at the same time. Then you’re going to hear three short beeps.”

  Myles followed his instructions, and he heard the beeps, but seconds ticked by without Wiz saying anything.

  Myles glanced at his watch. The call hadn’t disconnected, but he didn’t hear anything. He lifted his wrist closer to his mouth. “Hello? Wiz? You there?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, I’m here, but something’s going on,” he said slowly. Again, the sound of his fingers tapping on the keyboard came through loud and clear. “Ahh, hell. Myles, where are you?” Wiz asked in a hurry.

  Myles brows drew together. “What do you mean? I’m standing in front of the control panel by the back door. Did I push the wrong buttons?”

  “No, but I’m picking up some interference nearby. Did you or the cops clear the house when you got there? Are you sure no one got in?”

  Myles pulse amped up. “Positive. No broken windows and the doors were locked. Tell me what’s happening.”

  He moved away from the control panel and strolled through the kitchen. As he slowly moved through the house, he wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but he had a feeling he’d know it if he saw it.

  He glanced in the living room and dining room combo. Nothing.

  “Talk to me, Wiz. What am I looking for?”

  Myles no longer cared if anyone was listening to what was occurring inside the house. So what if the person knew if they were on to him? If it made the asshole come out of hiding, all the better.

  He slid his gun from this waistband and held it at his side as he eased up the stairs.

  “The signal is strong, but…” Wiz’s words trailed off, and Myles heard several people talking at once in the background. “It doesn’t appear to be strong enough to be inside the house, but it’s close by. Someone’s on the same frequency as the listening devices. Whoever is on the other end of them is nearby.”

  Wiz’s voice took on an ominous tone, and Myles’s heart rate kicked up. His gut stirred with trepidation as he roamed around upstairs, opening closet doors, looking under the beds.

  “Myles, are you armed?”

  “Yeah,” he said, his pulse racing with each step he took.

  “Good. Take a look outside. See anybody sitting in their car? Anyone hanging out down the street? The signal is getting stronger.”

  Myles rushed out of Whitney’s room and headed to the stairs.

  “Where’s Geneva?” Wiz asked.

  “She’s outsi… Oh, hell!”

  He bolted down the stairs, taking some two at a time. He didn’t know if some bastard was out there, but…

  “Geneva!” Myles yelled from inside the house, not caring that she probably couldn’t hear him. He leaped over the last three stairs. Breathing hard, he yanked open the front door, ignoring the cool blast that slapped him in the face.

  It was dark except for the outside house light and a streetlamp a few yards away. Both gave just enough illumination for him to see Geneva standing in the middle of the walkway with her phone to her ear, laughing.

  Just then, he noticed a car creeping up the street. Myles couldn’t tell the make or model. Nor could he tell if the driver was a threat or if they were lost. But as it grew closer, a chill slithered down Myles’s spine.

  He wasn’t taking any chances.

  The moment he rushed outside and hurried down the concrete steps, the car sped up, burning rubber in the process.

  “Geneva!” Myles yelled. Before she could turn completely toward him, he tackled her hard to the ground, landing with a thud.

  Shots rang out.

  Bullets pinged off his car. The two massive clay flower pots that sat on the front stoop exploded behind them. Chards of clay fell like a torrential downpour, cutting into his neck and arms.

  Myles returned fire while keeping his body on top of Geneva.

  They were pinned down. He couldn’t risk them trying to run for cover. Instead, he continued shooting at the passing car. When one of his bullets hit the vehicle’s side window, the driver sped off.

  Myles couldn’t let him get away.

  He leaped up and ran down the street after the vehicle, shooting out the rear window in the process. The driver gunned the accelerator and screeched away. Myles kept chasing until he started falling farther behind and finally stopped.

  “Dammit!” He punched the air with his fist, then flinched when he felt a pinch in his left shoulder. He turned to head back just as a few neighbors started pouring out of their homes.

  “Myles!” He heard Wiz yelling his name over and over again. “Myles! If you can hear me, help is on the way!”

  Ted, the neighbor who lived two doors down from Whitney’s place, was walking in his direction. “Myles! You all right, man? Do you know who that was?”

  Myles eased his gun into his back waistband and pulled his shirt over it.

  “I called 911,” Ted said when he was a few feet away.

  No soon as the words were out of his mouth, Myles heard the sirens. “Yeah, I’m okay,” he finally said and walked a little faster toward the house. But his steps grew heavy when he glanced at Whitney’s front yard. Neighbors were on their knees and huddled together. Voices raised. Arms flailing. A frantic energy pierced the air.

  Myles’s throat tightened.

  His hammering heart nearly blasted out of his chest as his gaze bounced from one person to another.

  Geneva. Where’s Geneva?

  He picked up his pace. Before he realized it, he was sprinting down the middle of the street.

  Oh, God. No. No. No.

  “Geneva! Geneva!”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Heart racing. Pulse pounding. Cyrus tore through the neighborhood like his ass was on fire. Weaving around cars, turning corners on two wheels, and plowing through stop signs, he couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

  Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!

  What the hell had he been thinking? That wasn’t supposed to happen. He had a plan. He was supposed to stick with the plan.

  He drove like a man possessed in the opposite directions of the sirens that could be heard screaming in the distance. He couldn’t slow down. Not until there was space between him and that neighborhood.

  It wasn’t until he was at least a mile away before he was finally able to take a breath and took notice of the car’s condition. He glanced at the hole in the windshield. At least the window hadn’t shattered the way the rear one had. That hole could’ve been through his head. Instead, he’d gotten lucky.

  He clenched his teeth and gently touched his right ear that stung like it was on
fire. Pulling his hand away, blood coated his fingers. One move to his right when that bullet soared through the car, and he would’ve been a dead man. Instead, the round had only grazed him.

  What the hell was wrong with him? Shooting at the woman and Norris Dixon wasn’t part of the plan, at least not tonight.

  Wait. No. Not Norris Dixon.

  The man’s real name was Myles. Myles Carrington. Not Norris.

  It had taken Cyrus so long to track him and Samantha down. It was hard to keep their real names straight. They were Whitney and Myles. Not Samantha and Norris. Those had been their undercover names. Aliases. But that was beside the point. He might’ve ruined everything, and what if someone had seen him?

  He pounded his hand on the steering wheel as he drove and glanced around his surroundings.

  I should’ve stuck with the damn plan.

  The moment Myles had barreled out of the house, rage took over Cyrus’s common sense. His first instinct had been to shoot and get the hell out of there. But now, he wasn’t even sure if he had shot either of them. Myles, that son of a bitch, had leaped and shoved his girlfriend out of the way.

  “I had to have shot him,” Cyrus mumbled under his breath.

  He was a good shot. Granted, it was difficult shooting, driving, and dodging bullets at the same time, but he had practically emptied his gun. No way did he miss both of them. Hopefully, Myles took a bullet, but Cyrus didn’t want him dead. At least not yet. Not like that.

  He growled into the quietness of the stolen vehicle. He showed his hand too soon. He wanted Myles to die a slow, painful, agonizing death, and Cyrus wanted to watch. Now it might be too late. Myles would figure out that he, too, was being hunted. He had more resources at his disposal than Cyrus first thought, but that was okay. At some point, like Whitney, his enemy would soon share the same fate.

  And what about the woman? It wasn’t until recently that he had learned about Geneva Ramsey. She was the assistant district attorney’s sister, and her father used to be a police detective. Cyrus didn’t have a beef with her, except she was guilty by association. He’d seen what happened to her little business. Seemed she had her own problems. But he imagined the pleasure he could get watching Myles lose yet another woman in his life. Cyrus had even considered taking out the son, but he couldn’t stomach killing a kid.

  “But I can kill his father.”

  Cyrus glanced in his side-view mirror, studying the cars driving behind him. He had taken several turns, and it didn’t appear anyone was following him. Still, he needed to stay off of main streets and ditch the car. The last thing he needed was for some Good Samaritan to call the police about a vehicle driving with a shattered rear window.

  “If only I could’ve stuck with the plan.” Get inside the house and stay put until Myles showed up.

  Instead, he blew it. Nothing had gone as planned. He had hoped to get into the house and wait for Myles to show up again. Something went wrong. He had tried overriding the security system like he’d done the other two times, but it hadn’t worked. Nothing had worked.

  Had Cyrus not heard the faint beeping sound when he opened the back door, the cops would have caught him. As it was, he had barely got out of there. Good thing he had parked around the block. They would’ve questioned him if he had been out front when they arrived.

  What happened?

  Why hadn’t his computer program worked?

  Cyrus shook his head, getting more frustrated by the moment.

  I could’ve been face-to-face with the man responsible for destroying my family. Instead, I’m running away.

  He wanted to see the fear in Myles’s eyes when he took his life. That’s how Cyrus had wanted it with Whitney, but most of the time, she had the kid with her. As a last resort, he had to sabotage her car to kill her.

  “I need to figure out what went wrong,” he murmured.

  Had they figured out that he’d been able to hack the system? Did they also know about the listening devices? The Myles guy did work with a security firm, and the few times people had been in the house, not a lot was said. Then again, those detectives had been there. They searched the place, never once mentioning listening devices.

  But, still…

  Nah, no one knows. There’s no way they knew. He could still use their ignorance to his benefit. He’d keep listening in.

  But, damn. If only he hadn’t gotten caught up in the moment and abandoned his original plan. Hopefully, he hadn’t ruined everything by acting on impulse. The moment he realized he couldn’t get into the house, he should’ve left. But learning that they might have bested him pissed him the hell off. That’s why he stuck around.

  Decisions made in anger always lead to bad decisions, his father had often said.

  Thinking about his dad only made Cyrus more frustrated. He was determined to avenge his parents’ death. Myles and Whitney might not have directly killed them, but they were the ones who started the snowball of lies with their inaccurate reports. For that, he wanted them both dead.

  One more to go.

  He’d come up with a new plan, but first, he needed to ditch the car before a cop pulled him over.

  *

  “I will not calm down!” Myles roared. “She could’ve been killed! That son of a bitch opened fire on us…on me!” he choked out, slapping his hand to his chest as rage ripped through his body. “He was gunning for me.”

  That realization—and the fact that Geneva could’ve been killed—hit Myles like a roundhouse kick to the face. Someone was after him. Someone wanted him dead. And that someone didn’t give a damn who they hurt in the process.

  His breaths came in short spurts as he stamped up and down the small room. Journey, who’d been acting as his lawyer, had somehow commandeered the space when police arrived to question him.

  “And you’re sure you were the target?” one of the officers asked.

  “Yes! The shooter was gunning for me. He didn’t start firing until I stepped out of the house,” Myles said, irritation dripping from each word.

  “Okay, guys. I think you’ve asked enough questions. I’ll fill you in on the connecting case out in the hallway,” Ashton said, referring to Whitney’s murder case, and ushered them out of the room with Journey following behind them.

  That left Myles with Kenton and Parker, both standing across the room, each with their cell phones plastered to their ears. They were talking to various members of the Atlanta’s Finest team.

  Myles dropped down on the sofa. The elephant-like weight that had been pressed down on his chest was finally starting to ease. The last two hours had been a nightmare-on-steroids. He had experienced every emotion from fear to anger and everything in between.

  I could’ve lost her.

  Geneva could’ve been killed. She could’ve died because some deranged bastard was gunning for him.

  And it would’ve been my fault.

  This was why he didn’t do relationships. His past life as a spy wasn’t conducive to long-lasting connections. Myles had no idea who was hunting him, but he was sure it had to do with whatever happened to Whitney. And considering what she’d been researching before her death, he would bet his life’s savings that all of this had to do with something from their CIA days.

  Myles stretched out on the plaid sofa that was at least six inches too short for his tall frame. He didn’t care that his legs hung over the arm of the furniture. He closed his eyes and covered them with his forearm, forcing himself to take long, even breaths.

  Geneva was going to be okay. She had a concussion and was currently getting a CT scan to ensure there was no swelling or bleeding in the brain. The doctors claimed she appeared to be all right. Geneva even insisted that she was fine. But Myles wouldn’t be totally convinced until she was able to walk out of the hospital.

  Settling against the sofa cushions, the events of the night came to the forefront of his mind. He was grateful that Wiz had been on the phone during the shooting. The computer guru’s quick action saved a lot
of headaches.

  Wiz had sent out a 311 alert to all of Atlanta’s Finest who were not on duty. The code was initially meant to be used as a safety protocol for when one of them didn’t report in, or didn’t respond to calls.

  Now the code was used as an emergency alert system. A message got distributed to all of the team’s phones simultaneously, letting them know that one of them was in trouble. The sophisticated system was similar to an Amber alert, and it had definitely come in handy tonight. Hamilton had shown up at Whitney’s house at the same time the cops and EMTs arrived. The ambulance had taken Myles and Geneva to the hospital closest to Whitney’s home, and by the time they made it to the emergency room, Parker and Kenton were there waiting.

  If Myles had any doubt that his team wouldn’t have his back in the time of trouble, tonight they’d proved their loyalty. The last couple of hours had been a whirlwind and a nightmare, rolled into one. And there was no way he could’ve survived it without them.

  “Are you sure you’re all right?” Kenton asked, breaking into Myles’s thoughts. “You sure you don’t need some pain meds?

  The doctor had already started him on an antibiotic. Myles turned down the pain meds offered. He wanted to stay alert until he and Geneva were someplace safe. “I’m all right,” he said, thinking that later he’d take something for the pain.

  Thanks to the adrenaline that had been pumping through his veins at the time of the shooting, Myles hadn’t realized he’d been shot. The bullet had only grazed him, leaving what looked like a two-inch burn mark just below his shoulder. Outside of Whitney’s house, his shoulder had stung like he’d been branded, but the pain hadn’t registered, especially when he found Geneva on the ground unconscious.

  Even now, that suffocating sensation from earlier crept back in, and his chest tightened as memories of that moment surfaced. His heart had plummeted to the pit of his stomach at the sight of her motionless body. He thought he had lost her. Thought she was dead because he hadn’t been able to protect her. His heart ached after losing Whitney, but that feeling of loss was nothing compared to what he experienced hours ago when he thought Geneva had been killed.