PROLOGUE
Max
The elevator doors dinged and slid open with barely a sound. Harsh yellow lighting shone down from the concrete ceiling and cast everything with a dirty glow as I stepped out into the underground parking garage. It was late, but that wasn’t anything new. I worked late every night.
Most of the parking spots had been vacated hours ago, people going home to their families or to the gym to blow off steam. I didn’t have time to blow off steam. I was too busy building a career.
And then the FBI showed up at my door.
They threatened my career. They threatened my reputation. My name.
I had no choice but to do what they asked.
The sound of a low scuffle from behind caused me to glance over my shoulder as I walked. No one was there, but that didn’t stop my hackles from rising. I’d become paranoid these last few months. Yet it seemed paranoid people were that way for a reason.
I quickened my steps and fished the keys to my black Lincoln MKZ out of my pocket. They slid out of my fingers and made a clattering sound on the cold pavement. I bent to retrieve them, noticing the movement of a shadow beneath a car several rows away.
I knew then my paranoia wasn’t just in my head.
Scooping up the keys, I closed the distance to my car and slid behind the wheel, throwing my briefcase into the back. Just before I started the engine I heard another engine roar to life.
My heart jumped up into my throat and pounded uncomfortably as I fired up the car and pulled quickly out of the parking spot. Because of the size and shape of the garage, speeding like I wanted to was almost impossible. As I rounded the corner into the next aisle of cars, my foot hovered anxiously over the gas pedal.
A dark four-door sedan pulled out behind me. I glanced into my rearview mirror, noting the ominous glow of the vehicle’s parking lights.
I didn’t speed up because I didn’t want to give any indication that I knew that car back there was a threat to me. The longer I could play it cool, the better off I would be.
Focusing on the next turn, I steered the MKZ around the corner, noting the way the lights in the aisle flickered like some bad horror movie. I was certain if I rolled down my window I would hear the buzzing of the bad electrical connection that barely kept the lights lit.
A sudden squeal and the jolting of my car had me glancing around, out the back window.
“Shit,” I yelled, unable to keep in the nervous energy swirling around inside me. The vehicle rammed into the back of me once again, jerking my car forward and causing it to fishtail slightly. I gripped the wheel tightly and fought for control as the passenger side of the MKZ narrowly missed a large concrete partition.
Screw driving like a granny.
My foot pounded down on the gas pedal and the engine responded immediately. The car shot forward as I spun the wheel, taking yet another curve. Shit! How far up did I have to go to get to street level? It didn’t seem like it took this long to get down here.
‘Course, I wasn’t being chased then.
The Lincoln handled well, but the speed and force of the curve caused the back end to slam into one of the cars parked nearby. The sound of crunching metal and shattering glass filled the air and I gritted my teeth together and hit the gas again.
My car skidded forward and the entrance onto the street came into view. Holding the wheel steady, I focused on getting out into the street.
The black sedan behind rammed me again and a loud curse ripped from my throat. I had known the chances of getting caught were high, but I never thought they would come at me like this.
The sound of a revving engine had me glancing in the rearview mirror, again noting how dangerously close the car was to hitting me.
My foot held the gas pedal all the way against the floor as I smashed through the little gate where I was supposed to stop and slip a ticket into the machine. I didn’t have time for that shit.
The sound of groaning metal and splitting wood followed me as the black car flew out of the mouth of the garage and into oncoming traffic. Drivers around me laid on their horns, blaring their anger as I landed in the center of the street, the MKZ paying no attention to the yellow lines dividing the pavement.
The sound of metal crunching against metal made me wince, but I didn’t stop to survey the damage I caused. Instead, I kept driving. Smoke lingered in the air from the burn of my tires as I tore down the road. The few people on the sidewalks stopped to stare and the lit streetlights cast shadows behind them, making all the buildings look dark and ominous.
A quick check in the rearview mirror told me I was still being pursued. I loosened the tie around my neck and took a deep breath, still not easing up on the gas. Sweat was sliding down my back and gathering in my armpits and my heart was beating so rapidly it felt like it could explode at any moment.
The traffic light at an intersection just ahead turned red, signaling that it was time to stop. But I couldn’t stop. Instead, I barreled through the four-way, narrowly missing a few cars and nearly losing control of the steering wheel.
My palms were sweaty. My grip was too loose.
“Fuck!” I roared when the car behind me did not let up.
I took a turn too sharply and the back end flipped around, my ride literally going sideways in the center of a street. Where the hell are the cops? Shouldn’t I at least hear sirens by now? I was driving like a damn maniac.
Inside the pocket of my jacket was my cell and I dug it out and hit a button.
“Yes?” The voice came on the line.
“They know,” I said, straightening out the vehicle and rushing down the street.
“Where are you?” he asked, calm.
“In my car. They’re tailing me. I’m pretty sure they don’t want to chat.”
As if to punctuate my words, my car was rammed again. The force of the hit sent me jerking forward as my seatbelt tightened so tautly it was painful against my chest. All the air whooshed out of my body and I gasped for more.
“Where’s the proof?”
“Somewhere safe.”
“Where!” the voice demanded.
A deadly calm settled over me. It was fear. It was the truth. It was my future. I might be talking to the good guy right now… but even the good guys sometimes bent the rules. If I told him where the item he wanted was, he would leave me to die. He would consider me nothing more than collateral damage.
“Send help. Then I’ll show you where it is myself,” I said, my voice sounding strange to my own ears. In the midst of so much chaos, so much adrenaline rushing through my veins, I sounded almost bored.
“Where are you?” he asked, and I could hear papers being shuffled around and the movement of chairs in the background.