He dodged and weaved on instinct as panic seized him. The shock receded a bit when he realized he could keep going. But for how long? He pivoted and fired a blind shot at his pursuer, hoping to slow him down.

McBride must be using a laser sight, something he wished he had.

He limped toward the park’s entrance, knowing blood loss would soon become critical, especially with his heart rate elevated. He needed to reach the cover of the park before a second bullet found him.

***

Nathan saw Montez shudder for an instant, but remarkably he didn’t go down. A second later, Montez fired in his direction. The report hammered the air, clapping the surrounding buildings like a mass wake-up call. It wouldn’t be long before the police arrived—they were already racing toward the Bahia. He didn’t like the idea of Montez being arrested and taken into police custody. That wouldn’t do.

He watched Montez limp across Mission Boulevard and hurry through a gate leading into a narrow parking lot.

Maybe he should’ve shot to kill. Forget about it, stay focused.

Nathan pumped his arms for more speed and looked for approaching cars. None. He sprinted across the northbound lanes of Mission Boulevard, across the narrow divider, then across the southbound lanes. His feet slapped hard on the pavement, his first reminder that despite the momentary pain relief, he’d have to face reality soon.

He inwardly cursed as Montez disappeared under the roller coaster and entered Belmont Park. To avoid being ambushed, he’d have to slow his pursuit. Maybe having the police on scene wouldn’t be so bad after all. He’d rather see Montez in police custody than not in custody at all.

And with that thought, the pain in his feet returned in force. The adrenaline rush of the flashback had worn off. Reason had replaced the other, just as therapy had taught him. Fighting against lost hope, Nathan dug deeper and once again, tried to disconnect the pain.

When was the last time he’d been in Belmont Park? A couple of years? A lot can change. He knew there was some sort of artificial wave machine for surfers, an Olympic-sized pool, shops, food stands, rides, and various other attractions. At 0300 hours, all of them would be closed and the park abandoned. Did security guards patrol the place? Probably did. Were they armed or just radio cops? If there were guards, they’d already be on the way to investigate Montez’s gunshot.

Breathing heavily, he crouched to lower his profile, slowed to a jog, and scanned the perimeter fence and roller coaster beyond. The white support system of posts and trusses offered no place for Montez to mount a hidden attack and the roller coaster had an antipersonnel fence around its perimeter to keep people away from the tracks.