Page 78 of Velvet Vaughn

“I’m hit.” He got the words out through gritted teeth, still running because stopping wasn’t an option with bullets chewing up the grass around his feet. “I’m okay, keep going.”

“Don’t stop.” Anja’s hand closed around his good arm, hauling him the last ten yards to the Escalade, with Remi covering their backs the entire way. Anja shoved him inside and then returned fire for Remi to move. As soon as all three of them were inside, the engine roared to life.

The vehicle lurched into motion before Leo’s door had fully closed, gravel spitting from the tires as Remi cut across the lawn and onto the drive, headlights off, running on nothing but the orange glow of the house burning behind them. Two more rounds caught the rear window, spiderwebbing the glass without breaching it, and then they were through the gate and onto the street. The gunfire fell away behind them like something from another life.

Leo pressed a hand against his arm and felt a warm stream of blood soaking through his sleeve.

“Let me see.” Anja unbuckled her belt and crawled over the console before they’d cleared the block. Her hands moved his aside as she assessed the damage with a speed that told him this wasn’t the first gunshot wound she’d triaged in a moving vehicle. “Through and through, upper arm, muscle only. You’re not going to bleed out on me, De Luca, so stop looking like you’re planning your own funeral.”

“Boy, do you know how to reassure a patient.”

“I’m not a doctor, and I don’t get paid to be comforting. My job is to keep you alive.” She stripped off her jacket and pressed it hard against the wound, guiding his good hand to hold it in place. “Keep pressure on that.”

Remi took three hard turns in succession, checking the mirrors between each one, before he exhaled and eased off the gas. “Nobody behind us. Whoever hit the house wasn’t set up for a pursuit, just an ambush.”

“They knew where we were.” Anja’s voice had gone tight, working through it in real time. “The house wasn’t in any system. Nobody finds that address by accident.”

“A tail?” Remi frowned. “Somebody made us at some point and we missed it?”

“No.” Leo’s arm throbbed in time with his pulse, but the thought that had been circling since the first shot landed with enough weight to say out loud. “My apartment. They didn’t just take the transcript. They went through everything, including the suits.”

He watched the pieces click into place behind Anja’s eyes. “The garment bag. You brought a suit home from your apartment for the wake.”

His stomach turned over thinking about every hour that suit had hung twenty feet from where he slept. “If they planted something in the lining before I ever picked it up—”

“They didn’t need to follow us. They just waited for the signal to move.”

“There’s another possibility,” Remi pointed out. “Someone could’ve slipped something into your pocket at the wake.”

“That makes more sense, and it would’ve been easy to do with so many people around.” Anja sighed. “That’s on me. I should’ve realized they’d do something like that.”

“No.” Remi’s voice was steel. “You are not blaming yourself. I could’ve thought of it and didn’t. Don’t,” he chastised as Anja opened her mouth. “I know you’re lead on this case, but if there’s blame going around, it’s shared.”

She didn’t look convinced as she pulled out her phone with the hand that wasn’t pressing Leo’s jacket to his arm, thumb dialing. “Tyler, it’s me. The safe house has been compromised. We’ve got one gunshot wound, non-critical.” A muscle twitched in her cheek. “The rig’s gone. We didn’t have time to grab it. We got out with Vic’s envelope and nothing else.” Another pause. “No, don’t ask. Can you notify Luke and Logan? And get BeBe pulling a new location, please.”

Remi merged onto the highway heading north, no destination yet beyond distance. Leo watched the city lights blur past the shattered rear window, his arm throbbing under Anja’s hand and his mind circling back to a garment bag he’d carried out of his own apartment without a second thought.

“They’ve been three steps ahead of us since the beginning,” he muttered, mostly to himself.

“Not anymore.” Anja didn’t look away, even as the Escalade took the highway ramp at a speed that pressed them both back into the seats.

Her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen, then back at him.

“BeBe’s got something. Forty minutes out.” In the dim light of the dashboard, and for just a second, Anja’s professional reserve slipped enough to show him what was underneath it. “Hang on. We’re almost clear.”