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“What about you?”
“I don’t know the guy,” he admitted. “Why?”
“Like you said, it’s nagging me. But I’m coming in fairly blind. From the outside, BIH seems to be the only thing benefiting from what’s going on. They’re making money investigating the breach, while managing to look perfectly clean in the process. It’s weird.”
“I’m inclined to agree,” Seamus said as he pulled into an open spot on the street across from the Hilton and killed the engine. “But Scout has been through their system a hundred times. He’s the best. If there were anything linking BIH to these attacks, he’d have found it. Plus, what the hell do they gain by blowing up bridges and shit?”
“I have no idea,” I answered. “That’s why I didn’t want to say anything.”
We both got out of the car and fell into step together again, heading toward the hotel. We walked past a police officer, and I nodded to him. He started to nod back but froze, his gaze narrowing as we passed.
Instantly on edge from the change in his demeanor, I held back again, flanking Seamus who seemed oblivious to the sudden attention of the cop. But when I caught the officer moving in from the corner of my eye, my stomach dropped.
This wasn’t going to be good.
Chapter Five
~Seamus~
“Seamus O’Malley?” a man asked from behind me, his voice harsh.
“Yeah,” I turned and felt my eyes widen in surprise at the sight of a police officer with his gun trained on my chest. “Whoa! What the fuck, dude?”
“Put your hands up and stay where you are,” the cop said, his voice a little shaky as he reached for his radio.
“Nope,” Max said, stepping forward quickly and grabbing the radio from the officer’s belt before the cop seemed to even register that Max was there. “I’m afraid we’re going to need you to explain what’s going on.”
The cop started to shift to point his weapon at Max, but seemed to think I was a bigger threat, so immediately steadied the gun back on me. I wasn’t sure why Max hadn’t gone for the officer’s pistol, but maybe he had a plan formulating that I just couldn’t see through the haze of confusion and anger at the situation I’d suddenly found myself in.
“Seamus O’Malley, I’m bringing you in for questioning in regard to the DC bridge bombing,” the officer said, his gunstilltrained on me as he reached behind himself and pulled out his cuffs. “Put these on and come with me.”
“That’s not going to happen,” I said, frowning. “Clearly this is a misunderstanding. I’m an operative with the U.S. government.” I blew out a sigh as the cop held the cuffs out as if expecting me to surrender. I wasn’t thrilled about what I was about to do, but there was no way I was getting arrested for suspected terrorism in D.C. “You ready for this?”
“Baby, I was born ready,” Max answered, and I could hear the grin in his tone, but I didn’t want to take my eyes off the cop with the gun.
I stepped forward slowly, reaching out as if to take the offered handcuffs, but instead I spun and gripped the wrist of the hand holding the weapon, twisting it and slamming it against my knee.
The cop yelled in pain as his grip slackened and the pistol hit the sidewalk.
“I’m really sorry,” I told the officer, twisting the arm still locked in my grip before kicking his legs out from under him. I followed him to the ground and snagged his other arm, pulling both behind his back and securing the cuffs on him. “This is all a huge mistake.”
Pain seared up my right arm before I even heard the ringing of a gunshot. I looked up to see two more officers running toward us, one with his gun out. I couldn’t help being impressed with the shot he’d made, but then I remembered that…well…he’d fucking shot me.
“Time to go,” Max said, gripping my left arm and pulling me to my feet. “You got an escape plan?”
“Sort of,” I admitted, following him around the corner as sirens and shouts to remain where I was sounded from everywhere around us. “Come on.”
We ran flat out, ducking through alleys and winding our way between buildings until we finally made it to a parking garage.
“What am I looking for?” Max asked, already headed for the left side of the garage. The radio he’d lifted from the cop squawked loudly, the sound echoing through the building before a woman’s voice sounded, announcing that the suspects were seen entering the parking garage.
“An old ass Civic or a Corolla would be nice,” I admitted, taking the right side and looking for any older model I could hotwire or jimmy-start. My gaze landed on a champagne gold Civic with rusted rims and a dented rear bumper and I almost cried in relief. “Here!”
I grabbed the door handle and pulled, grateful that it wasn’t even locked. I kicked out the wire panel beneath the steering wheel and stripped the wires with shaking fingers before sparking them together. The engine caught just as Max slid into the passenger seat.
“We’ve got company,” he said, slamming his door as red and blue lights illuminated the dark garage.
I threw the Civic into reverse and pulled out of the spot before slamming it back into drive and gunning the engine, tearing through the garage and blowing out the mechanical arm blocking the exit before hitting the street and hanging a right, three cop cars following me closely.
