She peeked into the front seat, her heart sinking when she saw that the keys were not in the ignition. She had three options: Hope they killed each other and didn’t come for her, try to hot-wire the Jeep and escape, or run. She didn’t trust that they’d kill each other and she didn’t know how to hot-wire a car.

So I’ll run. She tugged on the door handle, relieved when it opened. She’d been afraid that Dominic the Suave had locked her in. She hesitated. If they saw her, they’d shoot.

But they’d shoot anyway. Words she’d memorized in boot camp came flooding back. The Code of Conduct. If I am captured I will continue to resist by all means available. I will make every effort to escape.

“You will not harm my father!” DJ was screaming.

Another silenced bullet hit the windshield, shattering it.

Go.

She opened the door only far enough to slip out, then dropped to the ground and crawled to the rear of the Jeep. They’d come around a bend before stopping. She’d go back that way, and once she was hidden from sight, she could figure out which way was less likely to get her killed—up the rock face or down the ravine.

Her finger was bleeding, but it wasn’t too bad. She gripped the blade in her other hand and crawled into the grass. DJ had hidden in the foliage when he relieved himself. She could hide there, too.

She finally exhaled when she was concealed behind the trees. Go. Fast.

Crouching as low as she could, she set off at a half jog, half crab walk.

Dammit, Tom, where are you?

THIRTY-ONE

TWAIN, CALIFORNIA

TUESDAY, MAY 30, 4:10 P.M.

Don’t you dare touch him,” DJ growled, crouching in front of Pastor.

It was actually over. He’d disarmed and disabled Kowalski quickly, because for all the man’s bluster about teaching DJ everything, DJ was a better shot.

But he hadn’t wanted Kowalski to die too easily. He’d played with him, shouting and shooting. DJ had wanted Pastor to hear him fighting “for him.” Kowalski had been down several minutes before, and he’d screamed like a little girl. That had been satisfying.

Almost as satisfying as seeing his head burst like a melon from the kill shot.

“DJ,” Pastor gasped. “Be careful.”

Oh, yeah. This was exactly what he’d wanted. Pastor overwhelmed with concern and gratitude because DJ had protected him at the risk to his own life. It might be the “sacrifice” that Pastor needed to see to give him the bank codes. Because I saved his life and everything.

DJ shuddered out a sigh. “If I don’t make it . . .” He pulled the sat phone from his pocket. “You can call for help.” Pretending to brace himself, he lurched to his feet, firing over the hood of the Explorer five more times.

Every bullet hit Kowalski’s corpse. So satisfying.

DJ turned, sinking to sit on the ground. He popped the empty magazine from his pistol, pulled a full one from his pocket, and reloaded. Then he sighed. “He’s dead.”