Prologue
Early April
Wyatt’s fingers shook as he dialed the phone number.
It was a number he hadn’t called in years, as he tore shirts and pants from his dresser and closet while the phone on the other end rang.
No answer, but he wasn’t surprised. Hayden was probably on a job at the moment. He’d made something of himself and Wyatt was so fucking proud of him for lifting himself up and out of the shithole they’d both been born into.
It went to voicemail.
Beep.
Hello, this is Hayden. I would come to the phone right now if I could find my phone. Please say the secret code to leave a message.
He wanted to laugh, but knew tears would come instead.
“Hayden, listen. I know you’re going to freak when you hear this, but you gotta know I only did this because I was trying to keep the dirt from finding you. Anyway, shit’s gone south and I need to disappear like yesterday…for real this time. You remember the key Jaxon gave you? It’s to a safety deposit box—
Beep.You have reached the end of this message.
“Shit.” With shaking fingers, he dialed again and started shoving clothes into his suitcase and a backpack.
The same verbiage and the machine picked up where he left off. “Jaxon has the location of the box. Get the contents and disappear. Stay with Jaxon, he can keep you safe like I never—
Beep: You have reached the end of this message.
He punched the number again and finished throwing things into his bag.
“Anyway, Jaxon will know what to do. He will explain it all to you. And listen, baby brother…I know you won’t believe me, but I love you.”
He ended the call and tucked his phone away. Sliding on the backpack and rolling his suitcase, he stepped out into the hallway of his apartment building. He started toward the elevator when it pinged and he stopped.
It could just be a neighbor, but instinct had him stepping back. When the doors slid open, he would have seconds to see who it was.
A man stepped out followed by another. He knew from experience that they were heavily armed by the bulges in their jackets. Just then, his neighbor, Mr. Winston from down the hall, opened his door and entered the hallway with his dog—a German Shepard named Nix.
Winston and Nix stood between him and the two gunmen.
Wyatt dropped his suitcase and ran for the window at the far end and the fire escape.
“Move!” one man shouted at the neighbor with his dog just before a bullet pierced the wall near the fire escape window.
It missed by a hair, and Wyatt dove through as another bullet hit. He shifted his backpack, his one remaining piece of gear, and climbed up the ladder instead of down.
His goal was the roof. He’d practiced this route a hundred times and even with his pack, it didn’t slow him down at all.
More bullets followed, splintering the glass of the window he’d seconds ago climbed through. He made it to the top of the fire escape and climbed over the edge just as the two men appeared below.
Lunging across the heated top of the building, he sprinted to the other side, leaped over, caught the ledge, and dropped the five feet down to land on the top of a narrow side building. Running across its metal shingles, he jumped the five-foot distance to the next building’s fire escape.
Gunfire followed behind him, peppering the asphalt roof of the building.
He climbed again and pulled himself up and over onto the roof. He knew they were close, but he risked a glance behind him, catching the two dark figures running, jumping, and catching the fire escape below.
Fuck…way too close.
He raced to the other side of the roof to his final escape route before he lurched to a stop.
His trusted exit was blocked by a construction crane. The building on the other side of the jump had been partially demolished. Just last week, it had stood intact, steady, and strong.
He hadn’t been as smart as he’d thought planning this route a few weeks ago and now the jump between the two buildings was twice as far as before.
Bullets kicked up the tar near his feet and Wyatt tossed his pack over the side.
Backing up several feet, he sprinted, running full out like a jackrabbit. When he hit the edge, he reached, hoping like hell he could make it.
But Wyatt knew from experience that sometimes…
Hope wasn’t enough.