I was injured, with no working weapon, and no backup. As much as I hated to run—oh, God, how I hated to run!—if I didn’t, he’d kill me, then escape. My best chance was to make a break for it. Not escape him, lure him. Play fleeing prey and he’d follow. Why? Because if it were me doing the chasing, I’d follow. To run was to surrender. He had to fight, kill, win.

To keep this chase going, I needed to get out of this yard. Problem was, the only way out was over the fence. Jack had chosen this setup for my safety. No one had ever considered the possibility that I could get trapped here.

Wilkes fired, the shot zinging so close to my head I swore I felt it pass.

Over the fence it was.

I didn’t have time to worry whether my ankle could handle it—I had to make it work. One quick look and I found the biggest bush—one I’d just squeezed past. I steeled myself, turned sharp and raced back, ignoring the pain. The second I was behind that bush and hidden in its shadow, I grabbed the top of the fence, swinging myself up, grimacing as my wrist screamed in protest. For that split second, as I crested the fence, I was exposed. All I could do was keep my head down.

He fired. The shot hit my shoulder, stopped by the body armor, but the impact was almost enough to make me lose my grip. As I flipped over the fence, something snagged my foot. I kicked. Fresh pain as my injured foot made contact. An oomph. Wilkes released his hold, and I toppled, face-first, over the fence.

I hit the ground and clambered up. I could hear Wilkes scrabbling over the fence. A split-second survey of the yard. Also fenced. No way out until I reached the end of the row…vaulting over a half-dozen more fences. Couldn’t do it. There was no “if” or “maybe.” Couldn’t. I had to take cover.

Unlike the other yard, here there was no long hedge to hide behind. There had been at one time, until student tenants moved in. Abuse, neglect, whatever the cause, there was nothing more than a few clusters of bushes left, none big enough to do more than cower behind. The house was dark, meaning unless I was somehow lucky enough to find the patio door unlocked, I wasn’t getting out that way.

A siren wailed.

I should surrender this fight now. Step aside. Let the cops come in and roust Wilkes, take him down. I should scream loud enough that I’d raise the alarm.

But what if my screams brought someone back here? An innocent bystander rushing in to help? I could not risk anyone else’s life. This had to end here. Now.