The SUV turned sharply, bounced twice, then powered ahead, the engine screaming.

A deafening explosion rocked the vehicle, tossing it into the air. Peyton felt herself float for a second. The sensation was sickening, like the moment at the summit of a roller coaster, before it begins its rapid descent.

The SUV crashed to the ground on the driver’s side, throwing Peyton and Hannah’s intertwined bodies into the ceiling and then depositing them in a crumpled mass against the side wall. When the sound of twisting metal and breaking glass stopped, Peyton heard Hannah screaming at the top of her lungs.

Up front, Jonas unsnapped his seat belt and reached for the passenger side glovebox, which was now above him. He popped it open, took out a handgun, and pulled the slide back, chambering a round.

“No, Jonas!” Peyton cried out, but it was too late. He stood, his feet on the driver’s-side door, his head and shoulders poking out through the passenger side window, which was now on the top of the SUV. He began firing, but only got three rounds out before automatic gunfire erupted, ripping into him, his red blood spattering the seats. He fell, and the gun dropped from his hand into the back seat, within Peyton’s reach.

Hannah cried and shook, the pain clearly overwhelming her. Peyton wrapped her arms around her while she eyed the gun.

A second later, the SUV’s back gate swung open. Hands reached inside and dragged the two women out.

Chapter 34

Chapter 34

Desmond stared at his legs. For the first time since he had woken up in that hotel room in Berlin, he knew how he had gotten the scars. The memory had left him wanting to know more. At the moment, however, he had a more pressing issue: escaping his makeshift cell.

He lay on his back and listened for a few minutes, hoping for any clues about where he was or who might be around. But the barn was completely quiet, the other stalls apparently empty.

He looked around for something he could use as a weapon. His best option was to pry one of the rebar rods free. He moved around the cell, studying the bases of the rods, searching for a weak link. He settled on a rod on the left wall, then swept his hands across the floor, searching for anything he could use to dig with. He found a rock that was almost two inches long, and went to work scraping the dirt aside.

When he’d moved enough dirt to allow the rebar to be wiggled, he planted his feet, grabbed the rebar with both hands, and pulled. His aching body sent waves of pain through him. He rhythmically pushed out and returned, hoping the change in pressure would crack the weld.