“Untie me,” Jules demanded as the helicopter flew away again. “This doesn’t work if I’m still tied.”
Olivia rubbed a hand over her stomach. “This doesn’t work if they show up while Sloane’s still here.”
“Shut up,” Sloane snapped then stared at the ceiling again.
The helicopter didn’t return.
“That could have been anything. Traffic chopper. Cops chasing a stolen car. Anything.”
“Untie me.” Jules wriggled toward the knife.
Olivia snatched it, releasing the tie between her hands and feet. Just like Olivia had done, Jules sprang forward when the line was cut.
“Do my feet.”
Olivia sliced the ties, and Jules rolled her ankles.
The helicopter returned, this time, lower to the ground. Were there two? Where was Rhys? That had to be people looking for her.
“Now my hands.” She offered her wrists to Olivia.
“Wait,” Sloane commanded.
Jules forced herself onto her feet. The helicopters hovered nearby. She knew their familiar whomp when they hovered. So did Sloane. Jules cut a look at her. If the cops were out there, options one and two wouldn’t work. “What’s option three?”
Olivia faltered as though option two and whatever three might be hadn’t seemed like realistic options. Now, her pregnant belly and maybe her sense of morality were on unsteady footing.
“What’s option three?” Jules pressed.
“It’s option two,” Sloane said, “Except I, too, was taken.”
Option two meant she died. She needed to run and hide to save herself from an immediate problem, so she would still be alive when Rhys arrived.
Jules bolted.
“Goddamn it!” Sloane yelled. “Jules!”
The blood hadn’t entirely returned to her lower extremities. Pins and needles still pricked along the undersides of her feet. Her head still pounded. The nausea returned in full force. But she didn’t stop running.
“Jules!” Sloane shouted.
Gunfire exploded, and a bullet thwacked into a nearby pallet. Who the hell knew if Sloane had ever shot a gun before? Jules would have said no if asked before today. Now, Sloane wanted her dead. Another gunshot rang out, much closer this time. Jules veered left, down a long aisle. The lighting was shit.
“I saw you turn,” Sloane called. “Damn it. Jules. I’m not going to hurt you. Let’s figure out option three together.”
Jules didn’t say anything.
“We don’t have time to screw around.”
No kidding. Jules would wait Sloane out, silently creeping farther away.
Shit. Dead end.Pallets blocked the way she wanted to go. She could turn around or—
A bullet thwapped into a pallet.Sloane and her piss-poor aim.Jules covered her head. “Stop.”
Another bullet pinged down the long aisle.
Jules threw herself toward the shelf then hoisted herself up a pallet. She squeezed behind another and hustled down the shelf. If it could hold a pallet, it could hold her. But it shook as she ran.
