The attacker yanked a gun from the back of his waist, his chest heaving. “Say yes.” His voice emerged muffled from the mask.

“Call the police and run,” Nari yelled, the room swirling around her. Bile rose in her stomach. Her vision blurred.

“Damn it. We’re not done, bitch.” The attacker turned and ran through the kitchen and out the back sliding door.

The taste of metal filled her mouth. She turned and tried to open the front door. Her hands slipped off the handle and she tried again, pulling it open. Gasping, she stumbled out and into the arms of Mrs. Flannagan. The elderly woman tried to help her, but the last thing Nari remembered before the world went dark was calling for Angus Force.

* * *

More bullets impacted his truck. Angus gunned the engine and careened down the exit ramp, taking the turn too fast and speeding along the quiet road. Thank goodness he’d chosen a road far away from the DC traffic to find Roscoe a burger. He looked in his rearview mirror while reaching for the gun in his glove box, seeing a navy-blue truck with darkly shaded windows. It looked like two figures were in the vehicle, but he couldn’t be sure.

Roscoe tried to jump up, but Angus pushed him back down and away from the glass littering the seat. “Stay down,” he ordered again, grabbing the gun and looking for the right place to stop.

Mom-and-pop stores lined one side of the road, still quietly busy. A long field lined the other side, but he hadn’t seen a road or even a trail yet. He passed a diner, a tire shop, a pawn shop, and kept going when he saw folks milling around at the businesses. He wouldn’t be responsible for getting anybody else shot.

Apparently the guy behind him agreed because the shooting had stopped. For now.

He glared into the mirror, trying to catch a license plate as he headed deeper into Virginia, twisting and turning on the road. The last thing he wanted was to put himself on the radar of the police, but he’d been with the FBI and the HDD, and that meant something. He flipped over his phone and dialed 911.

A barrel poked out of the passenger side of the truck behind him. He ducked down as far as he could in his seat and sped up even more, stiffening when the operator asked what his emergency was.

“This is Angus Force—” A bullet impacted his back tire, causing the truck to skid. He gripped the steering wheel, trying to keep control of the vehicle. Roscoe barked from his perch.

“Down. All the way down,” Angus commanded, just in case they collided. The dog scrunched down all the way, his nose no longer visible. At least he knew when to obey.

“Sir? What is happening, sir?” the operator asked, her voice still calm.