No Ordinary Day | Book 2 | No Ordinary Getaway

by Tate, Harley

“That’s what you call it? Helping out a woman in need is punishment?” Raymond shook his head. “Why am I not surprised?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Raymond turned in John’s direction, disbelief slackening his jaw. “You can’t be serious. You kill people and get paid for it. It’s not a surprise you don’t have a soul.”

  John opened his mouth to respond, but closed it just as quickly. Arguing would get him nowhere. He’d be better off keeping his mouth shut.

  But Raymond dug in. “What, cat got your tongue? Or am I just so right you have nothing further to say?”

  “Just because I kill people, doesn’t mean I don’t have a soul.”

  Raymond snorted out a laugh. “Oh, so you’re a hitman with feelings? Do you go home and drown your sorrows in a bottle of beer and watch Lifetime movies?”

  John clenched his fist, digging his nails into his palm to keep from punching Raymond square in the jaw. “Everything is different now. The world has changed. The sooner you wise up to that and act accordingly the better off your wife will be.”

  Raymond’s teasing expression shifted into anger. “Leave my wife out of this.”

  “I’m telling the truth and you know it.”

  “Let’s get the rest of what we need and get out of here. I don’t feel like talking anymore.” Raymond stormed ahead, barreling through the ransacked aisles, only managing to find a handful more items: a pack of Kleenex, a four pack of batteries, a small shovel.

  They found the end of a line in the middle of what used to be women’s clothing and stopped behind a man buying three comforters and a pair of flip-flops. He smiled up at John, but one glance at the scowl creasing John’s face and the smile faded.

  If he didn’t find a way to clear the air with Raymond, protecting Emma and Gloria would be a challenge. John stared past the line of people and tried to come up with a plan.

  Chapter Five

  Emma

  The door swung open, and Emma stepped out, one hand wrapped around Tank’s collar, the other feebly attempting to conceal the handgun shoved into the waistband of her pants.

  “Don’t come any closer.” Gloria kept her voice firm, but not abrasive. “This is private property. Didn’t you see the sign?”

  The man held up his hands. “I’m sorry, I must have missed it.”

  “What are you looking for?”

  He smiled, but it didn’t sit right with Emma. Too cheery? Too wide? She failed to place it, but Tank growled at her side.

  “Just trying to find the closest way back to the main road. Maybe a cup of coffee before I head out? I was hiking with a friend, but we got separated. I thought I saw a bear aaaand I might have freaked out a bit.” His smile turned sheepish. “Now I’m lost.”

  “Don’t you remember the rules?” Emma offered. “Hug a tree and wait for someone to find you.”

  His smile slipped. “Can’t say I ever heard that one.”

  “Really?” Emma raised an eyebrow. “You look about my age. We had that drilled into us as kids.”

  “Guess we didn’t go to the same school.”

  “Apparently not.” Emma pegged the guy at around thirty, give or take a few years. Fit like John, not a muscle head, but not a slacker, either. No obvious weapon, but his cargo pants held a multitude of concealment options.

  Tank grumbled again at her side. “My dog doesn’t like you much. Is there a reason for that?”

  He glanced toward the woods. “Maybe I smell? It’s been a few days in the bush.”

  “Or maybe you aren’t a backpacker at all.” Gloria motioned toward the man. “Where’s your gear?”

  “I left it about a quarter mile back, this hill is pretty steep. Didn’t want to come all the way up here if I just had to turn back around.”

  Gloria widened her stance. “It’s not obvious there’s a cabin from the base of the hill. No marker, nothing except the gate and there’s a sign posting no trespassers. How did you even know we were here?”

  He scratched behind his ear. “Lucky guess?”

  The more the guy talked, the less Emma trusted him. They needed to run him off. Fast. “I suggest you go back the way you came and retrace your steps. You’ll find your friend.”

  He grabbed his belly. “I haven’t eaten since yesterday. The guy I’m with, he packed all the food.”

  “Not real smart to go running off, then, was it?”

  He winced. “No, but if you have anything to spare—”

  Gloria barked out an offer. “If I give you some food, will you be on your way?”

  “That depends on your hospitality, I guess.”

  Emma’s skin crawled. Whatever he wanted, it wasn’t food.

  “He’s a liar! He’s here to kill us, just like they killed my dad!” Holly emerged from the house, clutching Pringles to her chest.

  Oh, no. She was the last thing they needed. “Get back inside,” Emma admonished the girl. “You shouldn’t be here.”

  Tank broke away from Emma to hurry to the teenager’s side. She reached down and gave him a pat before raising her voice at the man. “You need to leave!”

  “I don’t know who you think I am, but I don’t plan on killing anyone.” He held up his hands. “I’m just lost and hungry, like I said.”

  No way. Not with the way he evaded their questions and refused to leave. Emma reached for the revolver, resting her hand on the hilt. “I don’t believe you.”

  “Maybe someone inside will.” He nodded toward the cabin. “How many more people do you have hiding in there?”

  Gloria bristled. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

  He held up a hand. “Just making conversation. But it seems to me, if anyone else is inside, they’d want a say in things.”

  “This is my cabin and I’m in charge. No one else’s opinion matters.”

  “Not even your husband’s?”

  Gloria lifted the shotgun so it pointed toward the trees and not the dirt. “Excuse me?”

  “You’ve got a wedding ring on, so I assume—”

  “You know what that makes us both, then.”

  “Fair enough.” The man stepped back. “Now about that food.”

  Gloria lifted the shotgun chest-level. “Not a chance.”

  He stepped back again, one hand in the air, one hovering around his pocket. Emma tugged the revolver free as Tank let out a vicious bark.

  The dog tore forward, blowing past Emma in a cloud of dust as Holly screamed from behind. “Tank, no!”

  A bounding mass of fur and anger launched at the man on the drive. He backpedaled, one hand digging into a pocket of his cargo pants while he held the other out in defense.

  Motion at the tree line caught Emma’s attention and she swiveled in time to glimpse another figure emerge from the shadows. She shouted to Gloria. “Over there!” Gloria swung the shotgun as the second man took aim at her chest.

  Without thinking, Emma fired, relying on the handful of lessons John doled out that morning. The shot went wide, grazing the nearest tree, but the man ducked all the same.

  Emma spun back to the drive. “Tank! Come!” She shouted at the dog, but he ignored her. “Holly, run to the woods!” She screamed the words, adrenaline spurring her into action, transporting her back into lead researcher mode where seconds mattered in critical experiments and everyone needed to listen.

  She pointed the revolver at the man facing off with Tank. “Shoot the dog and you’re dead.”

  “Not unless you’re dead first.”

  Tank closed the distance and lunged as the man swung the handgun into position. The gun fired, missing the dog by a mile. The man landed hard on the ground with Tank on top of him.

  “Gloria, run!” Emma took off, hoping her friend and coworker followed, despite the risk to Tank. If they stayed exposed out in the middle of the clearing, no amount of bravery would save them.

  With every slap offset on earth, dust billowed around Emma’s feet. Adrenaline dimmed her vision. B
lood whooshed in her ears. I need the cover of the trees…

  She panted, unable to suck enough oxygen into her lungs, as she half-fell behind the woodpile skirting the clearing’s edge. Tank’s snarls echoed across the empty space as she struggled to breathe. With shaky fingers, Emma counted the remaining rounds. Four unused. Not nearly enough with her aim.

  Emma cursed. John had been right about everything. Safety in the woods was only an illusion. As long as the government or CropForward or whoever contracted with John’s boss to take them out still functioned, they were targets.

  A scream carried across the forest and Emma half-rose from her hiding spot. It wasn’t the high-pitched wail of a teenager caught off guard, but of a seasoned woman in a fight for her life. Gloria.

  Emma hurried through the trees, ignoring the sting as branches slapped her arms and scraped her cheek. It didn’t matter how low she crouched or how quickly she moved. She was vulnerable and exposed. They were going to die out in these woods with Raymond and John miles away, oblivious to all of it.

  Another scream, and Emma veered left, away from the cabin and deeper into the trees. Where was she? Emma cast her eyes about, squinting to peer past the dense foliage for any sign of movement. There! A flash of something in the distance. She eased closer, gun gripped tight in her right hand.

  Another movement, a muffled groan. Gloria’s red boot swung up into the air and Emma rushed forward. Her friend sprawled across the dirt with the man from the road on top of her, fighting over the shotgun. Gloria gripped it in both hands, cheek bloodied and bruised as she grimaced with effort.

  Now or never. Emma’s hand shook as she lifted the gun into position and wrapped her non-shooting hand around her fingers for support. She aimed, took a shallow breath, and fired.

  The man spasmed, grasping his side as he fell to the ground. Not the bullet through the heart she’d intended, but hopefully enough. Gloria scrabbled back, digging her boots into the dirt as she freed herself from the weight of her attacker. Emma stepped forward, gun aimed at the man’s back as he heaved, one hand holding his side, the other supporting his weight on the ground.

  A dog yelped in the distance and Emma spun on instinct. Halfway around, a sharp pain slicked hot and quick into her arm. She jerked. Her grip on the revolver slackened.

  Blood welled on her blouse and dripped down her arm. She staggered as the man from the drive came into view. If he was there, then Tank…

  With a surge of effort, Emma hoisted the revolver into the air, gritting her teeth against the pain. She fired without aiming and the bullet veered low, almost into the dirt. The man stumbled as he reached for his foot. Twigs cracked as he landed on his knees in the underbrush.

  Emma glanced behind her to check on Gloria, only to almost take a bullet to the brain. The round flew past her, cutting through her hair and missing her forehead by an inch. She spun back around and a wave of dizziness washed over her. The man she’d shot in the foot pointed a handgun straight at her. Emma pulled the trigger once. Twice. Three times. Squeezing again and again despite the empty casings.

  He gripped his chest, recognition dawning in his eyes as blood welled over his fingers. He sagged onto the ground. Emma kept the useless gun trained at his face as his eyes rolled back and he slumped over.

  A hand landed on her shoulder and she jerked.

  “It’s over, hon. You can stop now.” Gloria’s voice filtered through the horror and the fear, but Emma failed to process. “Let me take that.” Gloria reached for the revolver and eased it out of Emma’s hand.

  “Is the other one—”

  “Dead?” Gloria half-smiled. “Thankfully, no.”

  Emma twisted away in alarm. “But—”

  Gloria silenced her with a hand. “We need him alive, Em.” She took hold of Emma’s good arm and led her back toward the other man. He lay unconscious, spread eagle on the ground, a bruise swelling across his temple and blood coating his shirt.

  With a boot, Gloria nudged him and he groaned. “With any luck, he’ll tell us everything we need to know.”

  Chapter Six

  Gloria

  Gloria wasted no time, ignoring Emma’s confused expression as she hurried to divest the dead man of his lightweight jacket. “You need something around that arm to stop the bleeding.” She tugged the jacket off one arm at a time, grunting against the dead weight.

  Literal. Dead. Weight. Hysteria loomed on the edge of her sanity, a laugh percolating up her throat. “At least I know that saying is accurate.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Nevermind.” Gloria waved Emma over as she channeled her borderline panic into something useful. “Get over here with that arm.”

  Emma stumbled over, blood dripping down the shredded white rayon and into the dirt. After folding the jacket into a long, thick strip, Gloria wrapped it like a tourniquet around Emma’s arm. Twisting again and again, she kept the pressure tight on the wound before tying the sleeves into a knot.

  Emma winced and Gloria nodded in satisfaction. “That should slow down the worst of it, but we need to treat you as soon as possible. I hope Raymond comes back soon.”

  “I think I might pass out.” Emma wobbled on her feet, but Gloria reached out a steadying hand.

  “You’re pretty pale, but try to keep it together. I need your help.”

  Emma nodded without conviction. “I can manage.”

  Unlike many people, challenges brought out the best in Gloria. At eight years old, when her older brother challenged her to beat a video game faster than him, she stayed up all night, hiding in the basement with no lights, playing until she fell asleep mid-move. When a kid at school dared her to climb onto the roof to retrieve a lost soccer ball, she never hesitated.

  This was no different. She grabbed the gun discarded by the unconscious man and shoved it beneath her waistband. “Go find the other one. We need all the firepower we can get.”

  Emma wavered as she walked, good arm out in front to break a potential fall. She crouched above the man she killed and pried the gun from his thick, lifeless fingers. “What do you want to do with them?”

  “We leave the dead one for now.” She stood, staring down at the wounded, but alive man at her feet. “But we need to bring this one back to the cabin. Make sure he can’t escape.”

  “He’s too heavy to carry.”

  “We’ll have to drag him.” She bent back down and patted the man’s pockets, pulling out a phone, some other electronic device, and a set of keys. She shoved them all in her jacket and motioned for Emma to join her. “You grab one arm and I’ll grab the other. I’m sorry, it’s going to hurt, but we need to get him back before he wakes up.”

  Emma nodded, color returning a bit to her cheeks. “I can do it.”

  They each grabbed a limp wrist and on the count of three, pulled. It wasn’t easy. Sweat broke out across Gloria’s brow and Emma stumbled more than once, but together they dragged him all the way back to the cabin.

  As soon as she reached the front porch, Gloria shouted, “Holly! Holly it’s safe, are you all right?”

  “We’re okay,” replied a small voice from somewhere inside.

  Gloria closed her eyes in relief for a moment as Holly emerged from the cabin holding Pringles.

  “Tank hurt his leg. He’s limping, but I think he’s okay. It doesn’t look broken. Maybe just a sprain?” Hot tears streaked down the girl’s cheeks. “When he went after that guy, I thought—” She didn’t finish.

  Gloria nodded. “Same.” She motioned to the man laying slumped at her feet. We need to get him inside. Tie him up. There’s zip ties in the garage cabinet above the washing machine. Grab those, will you?”

  Holly hurried off as Gloria bent down toward the man. Dark hair, thick eyebrows, a hint of a scar behind his ear. Even incapacitated he oozed strength and power. Fear edged up Gloria’s spine, quickening her pulse. She turned to Emma. “Let’s do this.”

  Both women picked up the man once more, dragging him
over the threshold and dumping him into an empty kitchen chair. Holly held the container of zip ties out and Gloria fished out a handful, using multiple ties to bind the man’s arms and legs to the chair. “I’m sure he’ll break out of this in minutes.”

  “We need John.” Emma slumped across the kitchen table, good arm propping up her head.

  “And Raymond. I’m no good at fishing out bullets. I can’t even pull out a splinter.” Gloria pulled the medical backpack out of the closet and fished out alcohol pads, gauze, and an Ace bandage before grabbing a bottle of tequila from the kitchen. She held it to her chest as she turned to Holly. “I need to clean Emma’s wound and then—” She faltered as she turned to the man secured to the chair. “Deal with him. Can you keep Tank and Pringles safe? If they hear Emma cry out or this guy tries to pull something—”

  Holly scooped Pringles off the floor. “I get it. They’re dogs. One smell of fear or blood and they’ll freak out.”

  “Tank might injure himself even more,” Emma offered.

  “I’ll keep them in the bedroom. Holler if you need me.”

  Gloria waited until the teenager shut the door again to the bedroom before thumping the bottle onto the table in front of Emma. “Drink.”

  “I don’t—”

  “Drink it. If you don’t relax at least a little, we’ll have a rush of blood on our hands when I loosen that jacket.”

  “Can’t we just leave it until Raymond gets back?”

  Gloria swallowed, tongue suddenly thick in her mouth. She refused to acknowledge the risk he might never come back at all. She’d expected him an hour ago, at least. “That wound needs cleaning at least.”

  “He’s coming back.” Emma swigged down a glut of tequila, coughing as she set the bottle back on the table.

  “A few more of those and you won’t feel Raymond digging around in the wound at all.”

  Emma gagged. “I’m tempted to just leave it in there.”

  Gloria lifted an eyebrow. “You know better.”

  “Don’t remind me.”