Chapter 38

I do hear that sound, and I know what it is. This isn't good.

As soon as I get Clara running alongside me, saying screw it to keeping low, the loud roar of an engine bursts over the small hill separating us from the back half of the property.

Cresting the hill like something out of an action flick, Marco's in a tan four-door coupe, driving like a damn bat out of hell toward us, and I know what he has planned.

"Dammit." I shake my head, hurrying Clara over toward a building with a narrow walkway beside it. "Why didn't I fucking think to look for a damn car."

Breaths rush in and out of Clara's lungs as she works to keep up with me, and as she looks back over her shoulder, her eyes go wide.

"Well," Clara yells, "you do likely have a concussion. And this is not good for that leg injury."

Despite how fucked we are, I smile down at her as we sprint for the nearest remotely safe place.

She seems to know just the right thing to say, even at a time like this. And something swells behind my chest—something much more pleasant than fear.

"What leg injury, darlin'?"

Clara looks over, a playfully annoyed smirk on her face. Looking down as if this is news to me, I just turn the corners of my mouth down.

"Oh, would you look at that? Must be why it hurts so much to run."

Clara rolls her eyes. We're getting close to the building, and I'm thoroughly distracting her from being overwhelmed by panic.

"Must be."

Shock reverberates up my legs, the pain of that wound very much on my mind, and I grit my teeth as it burns more and more.

"We'll get out of this, love."

But then the motor revs behind us, and Marco pulls up fast in his damn coupe. He swerves into our path, and Clara and I have to jump out of the way.

I roll across the ground with her until we can drag ourselves up and look for another option.

She's banged up, though, and the scrape along her arms and the red smeared across her head stop me in my tracks.

"Fuck! Are you okay?"

My hands go to her face, and it takes everything I have not to just turn and run straight at that fucking car.

I wouldn't stand a damn chance, but this asshole has to go.

"I'm okay." She nods. "Just, ow."

"Yeah, doc. I can imagine." I swipe my thumb across her cheek, brushing away a bit of dirt. "Can you stand up?"

Helping to pull her up to her feet, Clara doesn't even wobble, and damn, if she doesn't impress me all over again.

Pain flares through my thigh, however, and when I look down at the bullet graze, it's bleeding even harder.

"Shit." I grip the hem of my tee shirt, tearing it free to tie around the wound.

"That's not going to—" Clara looks up, and her mouth falls open. "Luke!"

Spinning around, I see Marco heading for us again. We have seconds, and thankfully, Clara and I are able to get inside one of the open shipping containers.

The hollow box dents inward as Marco's car impacts it, and with the moments we have, I yank Clara out of the thing and run across the open lot toward that main office again.

Marco is hot on our tails, and I can just make out the sounds of him shouting out through his open windows.

"You fucking whore! Goddamn motherfucker! I'll kill you both!"

Clara and I leap behind a series of parking posts in front of the office that keep Marco's car from getting too close.

"He doesn't sound mad at all. I think he likes us."

Clara is holding herself up by planting her palms on her knees, and the throb in my leg is even worse now.

Warmth seeps down my leg as the blood leaks out faster. I can't keep this up.

Flicking her stare up to me, Clara looks like she's going to be sick. I rush over.

"Hey, hey." I pull her into my arms. "What's going on?"

"My…my stomach. Sorry." She shakes her head, pulling herself all the way up and taking a step back. "It's fine."

My stare snaps to the side as I hear the car rev again, and Marco swings the thing around in a massive loop.

The door inside the office isn't far, and we rush around the side of the building, the screeching tires of Marco's car right behind us.

Our steps pound on the concrete walk, and I swing Clara and myself around the corner. The wooden door is right there.

But turning the knob does nothing.

"It's fucking locked. Dammit!"

I pound my fist on the surface, and then Clara is looking over her shoulder again.

"Luke, he's coming." She's not screaming at me, but the worry clogs up her voice.

"Fuck!"

Smashing my shoulder into the door, I try to get the thing open, but it's not happening fast enough.

"Come on!"

We dash around to the other side of the building. Maybe I can find a window or something.

My leg aches something fierce, and I know my speed is lagging while my strength wanes.

The blaring sound of Marco's horn goes off too close behind our steps, and I look over just quick enough to see him heading straight for the building.

He clearly doesn't care about damaging the car.

Snagging Clara by the shoulders, I leap with her out of the way again, and Marco's car goes soaring past.

He smashes into the seemingly flimsy wall of the office building, but the car's still running.

I watch as he throws it in reverse and backs up to try for us again.

"Clara!"

She shakes her head, looking up from the ground at me, and nods.

"Still here. What are we supposed to do? We can't keep running like this."

I shake my head, glancing over at Marco's car, still putting distance between us to ram forward again.

"No. We can't."

"Luke." Clara's just beneath me, cradled in my arms, and damn, if I could just keep her there, safe. "You can't run on this much more. The bleeding…"

Just as she nods at my leg, I notice the fuzzy feeling in my brain from the blood loss.

I've been doing my best to ignore it, but my head feels off, my limbs dragging and heavy.

She's right. I know she's right, but I can't let this fucker hurt her. I've failed her enough.

"Yeah. I get you."

I look around us. There's an expanse of flat cement wall just a few yards down, another storage building.

Marco clearly doesn't care about that car. He's only after one thing.

More obscenities fly from the car as Marco throws the car into drive, ready to take off again.

Seconds. I have seconds to try this. It's this or nothing.

"Clara, I need you to stay here."

Her eyes flare. "What?"

"We've got seconds, doc! I need you to stay put and trust me. I'm going to lead him into the wall."

"Luke, no! I?—"

The sound of the motor cuts her off as the car is barreling toward us.

"Stay here!"

I get up off the ground, leaving Clara there, and run toward the section of stronger wall.

"Come on, you fucker! I'm not scared of you or your fucking piece of shit car!"

Please, God, let this work.