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It was exactly that gear she was counting on to keep her safe. She’d played on Max’s natural protective instincts to get him to agree to let her come along, but it hadn’t been a total ruse. What would she do here alone? What would she do if someone came after her?
For now she’d stick to Max and his gear.
While he got ready, she turned on the TV, not that she expected to see any news about the lab. Tempest or the CIA would clamp down on that story. When she and Max parted ways, could she trust the CIA? Tempest had presumably been operating, unchecked, right under the nose of the agency.
Max slung a bag across his chest, gripping the strap with one hand. “Are you ready?”
She’d think about whom to trust when she and Max parted once they reached that point. She hadn’t been lying to him. Right now, he was all she had.
She tossed the remote control on the bed. “Ready.”
They took the elevator to the second floor and then jogged down the stairwell, their shoes slapping against the metal steps.
Max pushed through the fire door and she followed him across a short hallway to a side exit that led to the parking structure.
The parking lot had cleared out some since they’d returned to the hotel from shopping, and it looked as if they’d missed the dinner crowd leaving for their restaurants.
Max unlocked the car and hoisted his bag into the backseat.
She scrambled into the passenger side of the car before he could change his mind.
They snapped their seat belts in unison and Max slipped the key into the ignition. It clicked.
“What the...?” His fingers hovered over the dangling keys.
Ava’s nostrils flared. “What’s that smell?”
“Ava, get out!” He yanked off his seat belt as she stared at him with her mouth agape.
He popped the release for her and then nudged her shoulder. “Get out of the car now and run for the exit!”
He reached into the backseat and a surge of adrenaline pulsed through her veins. She snagged her bag from the floor of the car and shoved at the door. It fell open and she stumbled out of the car.
“Get to the stairwell.” Max sprinted behind the car, the black bag banging against his hip.
She didn’t know why the hell they were running, but when Max Duvall yelled “run” in that tone of voice, she obeyed.
He crowded behind her, urging her to move faster.
Just when she smacked her palms against the cold metal of the stairwell door, an explosion rocked her off her feet, driving her against the door.
As Max smashed against her back, she jerked her head over her shoulder—just in time to see their ride go up in flames.
Chapter Seven
Max cranked his head around, squinting through the black, acrid smoke billowing from his stolen car. No collateral damage. Please, God, no civilians.
He peeled himself away from Ava, flattened against the stairwell door. “Are you okay?”
She nodded, covering her ears with her hands.
The noise from the explosion hadn’t affected him. He still had enough T-101 coursing through his bloodstream to make him immune to such things.
“Did you see anyone else up here when we went to the car?”
“What?”
He put his lips close to her ear, which had to be ringing. “Any other people. Was anyone else on this level?”
“I didn’t see anyone.”
“Let’s get out of here.” He reached around her and pressed the door handle down. The door swung open, and he had to catch Ava around the waist as she tripped.
They’d been discovered. How?
Footsteps echoed in the stairwell, and Max pulled the gun from its shoulder holster and held it against his chest, beneath his jacket.
A man and two women, faces white, eyes wide, met them on the next landing. The man gripped the handrail. “What happened?”
“A car on level four is on fire.”
“Fire?” One of the women grabbed the man’s arm. “That sounded like an explosion.”
Max shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe the flames reached the gas tank. We called 911.”
As if on cue sirens called in the distance.
Ava put her hand out. “I wouldn’t go up there. It’s dangerous. Let the firemen handle it.”
The man asked, “Nobody’s up there? Nobody in the car?”
