CJ pointed a finger at the sign. “That’s this one.”
“What kind of car?” Brendan asked.
“A—a white Ford Escape,” she murmured.
“And the plate?”
She shook her head and pointed toward where the rear bumper protruded beyond two bigger sport utility vehicles parked on either side of it. “It’s right there.”
Because CJ had been sleeping, she’d made certain to park close to the elevators so she wouldn’t have far to carry him. As he said, he was a big boy—at least big enough that carrying him too far or for too long strained her arms and her back.
She shoved her hand in her jeans pocket to retrieve the keys. She’d locked her purse inside the vehicle to protect her new identity just in case anyone recognized her inside the hospital. She was grateful she’d taken the precaution. But if she’d had her cell phone and her can of mace, maybe she wouldn’t have needed Brendan to come to her rescue.
Lifting the key fob, she pressed the unlock button. The lights flashed and the horn beeped. But then another sound drowned out that beep as gunshots rang out. The echo made it impossible to tell from which direction the shots were coming.
But she didn’t need to know where they were coming from to know where they were aimed—at her. Bullets whizzed past her head, stirring her hair.
A strong hand clasped her shoulder, pushing her down so forcefully that she dropped to the ground. Her knees struck the cement so hard that she involuntarily cried out in pain.
A cry echoed hers—CJ’s. He hadn’t fallen; he was still clasped tightly in Brendan’s arms. But one of those flying bullets could have struck him.
Now she couldn’t cry. She couldn’t move. She could only stay on the ground, frozen with terror and dread that she had failed her son once again.
Vivid curses reverberated inside Brendan’s head, echoing the cries of the woman and the child. Those cries had to be of fear—just fear. He’d made certain that they wouldn’t be hit, keeping them low as the shots rang out. If only he’d had backup waiting …
But just as he had taken on the gunmen inside the hospital, he also had to confront this one alone—while trying to protect people he hadn’t even known were alive until tonight. So he didn’t utter those curses echoing inside his head, not only because of his son but also because he didn’t have time.
He’d taken the gun off the guy he’d left alive. But that didn’t mean the man hadn’t had another one on him, as Brendan always did. Or maybe if he’d come down to ambush them in the garage he’d retrieved a weapon from his vehicle.
Where the hell were the shots coming from? Since they ricocheted off the cement floor and ceiling and pillars, he couldn’t tell. So he couldn’t fire back—even if he’d had a free hand to grab one of his concealed weapons.
His hands were full, one clasping his son tightly to his chest while his other wrapped around Josie’s arm. He lifted her from the ground and tugged her toward the car she’d unlocked. Thankfully, it was next to two bigger SUVs that provided some cover as he ushered them between the vehicles.
“Do you still have the keys?” he asked.
Josie stared at him wide-eyed, as if too scared to comprehend what he was saying, or maybe the loud gunshots echoing throughout the parking structure had deafened her. Or she was just in shock.
Brendan leaned closer to her, his lips nearly brushing her ear as her hair tickled his cheek. Then he spoke louder. “Keys?”
She glanced down at her hand. A ring of keys dangled from her trembling fingers.
He released her arm to grab the keys from her. Then, with the keys jamming into his palm, he pulled open the back door and thrust her inside the vehicle.
“Stay low,” he said, handing their son to her. As he slammed the door shut behind them, a bullet hit the rear bumper. The other vehicles offered no protection if the shooter was behind them now.
Brendan let a curse slip out of his lips. Then he quickly pulled open the driver’s door. As he slid behind the steering wheel, he glanced into the rearview mirror. He couldn’t see anyone in the backseat. Josie had taken his advice and stayed low.
But he noticed someone else. A dark shadow moved between cars parked on the other side of the garage, rushing toward Josie’s SUV. In the dim lighting, he couldn’t see the guy’s face, couldn’t tell if this was the supposed orderly from the sixth floor. He couldn’t risk the guy getting close enough for Brendan to recognize him.
He shoved the keys in the ignition. As soon as the motor turned over, he reversed. He would have slammed into the cars behind them, would have tried to crush the shooter. But Josie and the boy were not buckled in, so he couldn’t risk their being tossed around the vehicle.
And Brendan couldn’t risk the gunman getting close enough to take more shots. If these guys were all hired professionals, they were bound to get an accurate shot. So he shifted into Drive and pressed his foot down on the accelerator. If only he could reach for one of his weapons and shoot back at the shadow running after them.
But he needed both hands on the wheel, needed to carefully careen around the sharp curves so he didn’t hit a concrete pillar, or fling Josie and his son out a window. He had to make sure that he didn’t kill them while he tried so desperately to save them.
Josie didn’t know what would kill them first: the gunshots or a car accident. Since Brendan was driving so fast, he must have outdistanced the gunman so no bullets could fly through the back window and strike CJ. She quickly strapped him into his booster seat. As short as he was, his head was still beneath the headrest.
“Stay down,” Brendan warned her from the front seat as he swerved around more sharp corners and headed up toward the street level and the exit. “There could be more—”
Hired killers? That was probably what he’d intended to say before stopping himself for their son’s sake, not wanting to scare the boy.
“Bad men?” she asked. She hadn’t expected any of them or she never would have brought her son to the hospital. She wouldn’t have put him at risk. How the hell had someone found out she was alive?
He had acted surprised. Had he really not known until tonight?
She had so many questions, but asking Brendan would have been a waste of time. He had never told her anything she’d wanted to know before. And she wasn’t certain that he would actually have any answers this time. If he really hadn’t known she was alive, he would have no idea who was trying to kill her.
She needed to talk to Charlotte.
Leaning forward, she reached under the driver’s seat and tugged out the purse she’d stashed there earlier. She hadn’t left only her identification inside but also her cell phones. Her personal phone and that special cell used only to call her handler. But Josie couldn’t make that confidential call, not with Brendan in the vehicle.
“What are you doing?” he asked, with a quick glance in the rearview mirror. He probably couldn’t see her, but he’d felt it when she’d reached under his seat. Was the man aware of everything going on around him? Given his life and his enemies, he probably had to be—or he wouldn’t be alive still.
“Getting my purse,” she said.
“Do you have a weapon in it?” he asked.
“Why?” Did he want her to use it or was he worried that she would? She reached inside the bag and wrapped her fingers around the can of mace. But even if he wasn’t driving so fast, she couldn’t