10. Jared

TEN

Logan'sright to be scared. We're a long way away from those vehicles, with a lot of open space between us and them. We won't have a lot of cover and Alonzo's men have significantly more firepower than we do. The chances that one or both of us will get shot are… high. But Logan doesn't need to know that. All he needs to know is when and where he should run.

I bring him closer to the door so he can see out the window.

"We're going that way." I point toward the left where there's a gap between the closest crate and the wall. "When I say go, run to the next crate or whatever you can find to hide behind. Then wait for me to catch up."

He goes pale as I explain the plan. His eyes are wider than a deer in headlights and he's biting his lip so hard he might just chew right through it. But he's still here, still present with me, hasn't completely fallen apart. That's impressive. Very few civilians would be able to hold things together like he has.

Pride wells up in me at how brave he's being. Logan is happiness and sunshine personified, but beneath that fluffy, fuzzy exterior is a core that's much stronger than I've given him credit for. If I get us out of here, and if he's willing to give me a second chance, that won't be a mistake I'll ever make again.

I dig out the keys I grabbed from one of the guards. There's a car fob on it and I hand it to Logan.

He stares at it like he doesn't know what it is.

"Keys to the car we're stealing," I answer his unspoken question.

His gaze darts from the keys to my face like he doesn't understand.

"We're stealing one of the cars over there and I'll need you to drive."

His jaw drops. "Me? But, but, I can't drive! I mean, I can, but not like that!"

I press the keys to his chest. "Yes, you can. It's just like regular driving, only faster." Which isn't entirely accurate, but Logan doesn't need to know that.

He catches the keys when I let go of them and stares at them again. "I'm going to get us killed."

Before I can object, the phone in my pocket rings again. I pull it out and the screen shows the 911 dispatcher calling me back. I answer it.

"Please hold for the FBI."

A second later, Isaac's voice is in my ear. I never thought I'd miss hearing it so goddamn much.

"Jared? What the fuck is going on?"

"Alonzo Adams. Have you been able to trace our location?"

"Yes, but it'll take us a while to get to you. You're in an abandoned facility in bumfuck New Jersey. Even local PD are at least twenty minutes out."

"We don't have that long. We need an extraction plan now." I push myself a little higher so I can peek through the window. Five men are loitering around some tables in the middle of the warehouse. None of them are Alonzo.

He could be somewhere else onsite, or he could have left the location entirely. If he was here, I'd risk trying to take him down by myself. But he isn't and I don't want Logan here for one second longer than necessary.

"I don't have eyes on Alonzo, so I'm not sticking around."

"Understood. Backup is on the way. Keep this line open."

"Copy that." I don't disconnect the call, but slide the phone into my pocket so Isaac can monitor our progress.

Then I turn back to Logan. "Here's what's going to happen. When I tell you to, hit the alarm button on the fob."

He holds up the fob to find the button, then nods.

"The car's lights will flash and the alarm system will sound. That will tell you which car we're aiming for. It'll also act as a distraction for us to get a head start on them."

He glances nervously toward the door, breaths coming hard and fast. His cheeks are streaked with tears and fear is etched into every feature of his face. And yet, he nods, clutching the keys to his chest. God, I love him so much.

The thought rocks me back on my heels. I love him. Fucking inconvenient timing, but I'm not surprised at the realization. It's been a long time coming. Logan is the sweetest, loveliest person I've ever met. He's a warm hug after a long, grinding day. He's the soothing balm for every sting and ache and cramp. He's my solace, my sanctuary, my safe harbor.

And I'm sending him directly into the line of fire. Neither of us may make it out of this alive.

"Logan." I sound strangled.

His eyes are glued to the window, thumb poised to hit the alarm button on the fob at my signal. I should wait until we get out of here to tell him, wait until we have the luxury of time. This isn't the type of thing I should spring on him right as we're heading into danger, not when there's so much I need to explain and apologize for.

But anything can happen when we go through that door. What if this is my only chance to tell him? To make sure he knows how wonderful he is and how much he means to me? I can't let the moment slip through my fingers. Just look at what happens when I put things off.

"Logan, I—" The words get caught in my throat and I choke on my own tongue. How do I express everything I feel in the short time we have? How do I convey the enormity of my emotions to him?

A furrow appears on Logan's brow as he watches me flounder. Then the confusion clears, replaced with sadness. "I know."

There's understanding in his deep green eyes, mixed with a cocktail of emotions as complicated as my own. Regret, disappointment, frustration, fear, hope. And swirling in it all, something I don't dare call love. Tenderness and affection maybe, that's all I'll allow myself to wish for.

Logan holds out a hand and I take it, squeezing tight. I bring our clasped hands to my mouth for a kiss, then he does the same. That's all we can do for now.

"Okay," I say, grabbing the door handle. "Ready?"

Logan adjusts his stance, looking like a runner about to push off the starting block. "Ready."

"Now."

The car's alarm blares so loud, I flinch and Jared jumps. But then I wrench open the door and he shoots out. I follow him, running in a crouch behind the crates as far as we can.

The distraction works. All eyes shoot toward the car with the screeching alarm, and shouts sound amidst the confusion. A few men head toward the car before they're stopped.

"The hostages! They've gotten out!" Scrambling, pounding feet, the distinctive sound of firearms being handled.

"Get down!" I yell at Logan who skids to a stop behind a crate, curling himself into a ball.

A split second later, gunshots ring out. I'm several feet behind him and I duck as bullets fly in our direction. The crate splinters upon impact, showering us with slivers and chunks of wood. I listen for a pause in the shots and the second there's a break, I pop around the side of the crate to fire off my own.

"Go!" I shout at Logan who visibly braces himself before sprinting across the gap to the next crate. Laying down cover, I follow him and we work our way across half the warehouse space before we run out of stuff to hide behind.

"What do we do now?" Logan asks, panting heavily, eyes wild and pupils blown. We're huddled together behind some pieces of equipment, both of us flinching every time bullets ping off the metal.

"Can you see the car from here?"

Logan tries to peer around the edge of the machine. "No, no, I can't. It's too far away."

"Switch places with me." I take a peek. The car with the lights flashing is too far for us to make it in one go. Which means we'll need to take the long way around and use the other cars as cover.

"Do you see that car there?" I ask Logan pointing to the truck that's closest to us."

"Yeah?"

"That's where we're going next."

Logan looks at me like I'm crazy. I don't blame him. The fifteen or so yards between us and the truck are completely exposed. We'll be easy targets for the gunmen to pick off. But there's no other option. We can't stay here and we can't go back. We can only go forward.

"I can't. No, I can't. It's too far." Panic laces Logan's voice and I grab his arm to ground him.

"I know it's far, but you can do this. Keep your head down. Dive the last few feet if you need to. I'll be right behind you. Don't think. Just run. Got it?"

Logan squeezes his eyes shut and a couple tears hang from his lashes. I can tell he wants to say no, but he's fighting back the fear.

I get off a few more shots as he gathers himself, then I run out of ammo. "Fuck," I mutter, tossing it aside and pulling out the one in my waistband.

"Ready?" I ask when Logan opens his eyes.

He nods, even though he looks like he might piss himself.

"Take a deep breath," I tell him and he sucks in a loud one. "Go!"

We burst out from behind the crate at the same time. Logan takes off, sprinting toward the truck. I go a little slower, laying down cover to buy him as much time as possible.

Time slows and sounds become muffled. The air grows thick, making it difficult to move my limbs, to breathe. It feels like I've been plunged into water. I push through it, keeping one eye on Logan and the other on the gunmen advancing on us.

The distance between me and the truck seems to grow with every step I take. It gets farther and farther away the faster I try to run. The gunmen are getting closer, their bullets whizzing past me so close that I can feel the air vibrate as they miss me by mere inches. I don't think I'm going to make it. The truck is too far and I'm too slow.

A searing pain explodes in my leg and time launches into fast forward. The sound of gunfire and shouting blasts in my ears. I throw myself forward and land with a hard oomph on the floor. Hands grab my shoulder and drag me all the way behind the truck.

"Fuck, fuck, Jay, are you okay? Did you get shot?" Logan's hands are on me, searching me for wounds.

"No, I'm fine," I grit out, pushing him away. He doesn't need to know about my leg right now. He needs to focus on getting the hell out of here. The adrenaline coursing through my system will keep the worst of the pain at bay. "Let's keep moving. Go! Go! Go!"

The car we're looking for is two vehicles away and with the way they're parked, the angles provide a bit more cover than before. We don't pause anymore, running straight for the driver's side, which is mercifully shielded from the bullets.

"Turn off the alarm! Unlock the doors!" I yell at Logan in mid-run.

The car stops blaring and when we wrench on the door handles, they open easily. Logan scrambles into the driver"s seat and fumbles with the ignition. I keep shooting until he's got the engine running, then dive into the backseat.

"Drive!"

Logan slams on the gas and the car lurches forward.

"Jay! Jay! Fuck!" I push myself up to see one of the gunmen running in front of the car.

"Duck!" I point my gun out the front windshield and fire off two shots. The first shatters the glass, and the second hits my target.

The car shakes as Logan drives over the man's body. "Jesus! Fuck!"

"Keep going! Don't stop!"