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She followed him down the hall, seeing him press his thumb on a safe next to the bed. He pulled out a Glock, grabbed a holster and put on a jacket. Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of the gun in his hand. "Do you think we're going to need that?"

He gave her a hard look. "Good chance. Still want to come?"

"Yes." She hoped she wasn't making a choice she'd regret.

Chapter Fifteen

Rachel couldn't keep her gaze off Tyler's holstered weapon, which now sat in the center console as they drove across town, a reminder that Jack might not be the only one waiting for them at the laundromat. With each mile, their speed increased, and she braced her hand on the side of the door a few times, but she didn't say anything. She had a feeling he'd simply stop and drop her off if she uttered a complaint. And maybe he was right to move fast, because Jack was clearly in trouble.

His voice had been shaky. He'd sounded like he was having trouble forming words, and there was exhaustion behind his effort to speak. She just hoped they could get to him before he wandered off again or someone grabbed him before they did.

As Tyler took the next corner at full speed, he said, "Don't worry. I'm a good driver."

"I hope so," she murmured, bracing herself once more.

Five minutes later, they pulled up in front of Skillman Wash & Fold, tucked into a bustling pocket of Long Island City, directly beneath the rusted steel girders of the elevated train line. The deafening screech and rhythmic thud of an overhead train rattled the street every few minutes, drowning out the hum of rush-hour traffic. With no open curb space in sight, Tyler double-parked, hazards flashing.

Through the fogged, detergent-streaked front window, which was partially blocked by a large, faded blue laundry logo painted across the glass, there appeared to be a man slumped on a chair near the vending machines. He didn't look like he was sitting there in panic, more like he was in a stupor.

Tyler shifted into park. "Wait here," he said, checking his weapon before grabbing it from the console and slipping it under his jacket. "I'm going to go in and bring him out."

He was out the door before she could answer. Rachel watched through the glass as his tall frame vanished into the laundromat. Outside, her stress mounted as irritated drivers swerved around their double-parked car, laying on their horns as they squeezed past in the narrow lane. Her eyes darted nervously between the shop window and the rearview mirror, and then her heart dropped. Four cars back in the line of honking traffic, idling behind a delivery truck, sat a dark van.

She told herself there was no way it was the same van she'd seen in the hospital security clip. There were probably thousands of vans in the city. But as the minutes ticked away, she debated between running in there to help get Jack out of the laundromat or staying where she was.

Finally, she saw Tyler coming out the door, his arm around the shoulders of Jack, who was struggling to stay on his feet. As she scrambled out of the SUV to pull open the rear door, her eyes locked on the dark van. It was only two cars back now, and its side door was opening.

Adrenaline spiked through her veins. "Tyler! Van!" she screamed over the rumble of an overhead train.

Tyler’s tactical instincts kicked in instantly. He shoved Jack toward her just as a deafening crack shattered the air. Metal shrieked and glass exploded from the parked car beside them. A couple of nearby pedestrians screamed, searching wildly for cover.

In one fluid motion, Tyler drew his weapon and fired back at the masked gunman, laying down cover to buy her seconds. She hauled Jack into the back seat, shoved his shoulders down toward the floorboards, and slammed the door. She dove into the front passenger seat a split second before Tyler threw himself behind the wheel, slamming his door shut and shifting into drive.

He stomped on the accelerator, speeding into traffic as horns blared, swerving around the cars stuck at the light at the end of the block, clipping the curb, and weaving violently through the gridlocked lane to break away.

She held on for dear life, looking in her side-view mirror, seeing the van moving behind them now. "They're still there," she told him in panic.

"Not for long. Jack, are you hit?"

"Don't think so," Jack said, still half slumped on the floor. "They keep finding me."

As his eyes began to close, she said, "Jack, stay with us."

He groaned in response, which meant he was still fighting, and that was a good sign. Tyler took another sharp turn, so fast, it felt like they were on two wheels. Feeling a little sick, she turned her head to the front, trying to keep from throwing up as he tried desperately to elude their followers.

It took many twists and turns, and what she considered to be near-fatal car crashes, before they turned down one alley, then another, and ended up in a crowded parking lot in front of a market and a trio of small stores. Tyler slid into a spot next to a large truck. Then, he turned back to Jack.

"Jack," he said sharply. "Who is chasing us?"

"Them," Jack said, blinking his eyes open. "Every time I think I get away, they find me."

Tyler got out of the car and opened Jack's door. "Do you have anything on you? A phone? Maybe a tracking device?"

"Got nothing," Jack muttered, as Tyler helped him more fully onto the back seat.

Jack wore a white T-shirt over thin track pants, where it was clear there was nothing in his pockets. But as Jack turned more toward Tyler, she noticed a bulge on his back near his shoulder blade.

"There's something on his back," she told Tyler.