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Jogging, I circle back to the bus. I’ve only been off it for thirty seconds, and this ground crew is dead, but more could be coming.
I bound up the blood-stained stairs and lock eyes with Cassandra. The only person who’s standing rather than hunched down.
Did she not hear the fucking gunshots?
From the front of the bus, I point a finger at her. “Sit. Down.”
I don’t have to work to make my tone angry and intense.
I am angry.
I’m fucking pissed that she was this close to violence.
This fucking close to being taken.
Rage boils inside me.
I want to drag her off this bus and leave everyone else to their own fate.
But she probably wouldn’t like that. And since I escalated the situation, I’ll finish it.
Needing to clear the aisle, I grab the dead asshole by his feet and drag him to the top of the stairs, then shove him down them, his body landing on top of his dead asshole friend.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see one of the corporate yuppies reach for a pistol lying on the floor between the seats.
I yank my third throwing knife from my belt and toss it so it lands buried in the floor between the man’s outstretched fingers and the firearm.
“Don’t be fucking stupid,” I snap at him, and he cowers back into his seat.
Now to get everyone to safety.
The bus driver is dead, and he deserves more than me pushing him to the floor, but it’s the best I can do under the circumstances.
Stepping over his body, I climb into the driver’s seat.
The bus is still in drive, and with the van in front of us in neutral, I’m able to depress the gas and push it out of the way.
Now that the gunshots have stopped, people are starting to gather around. And I probably have about two more seconds before someone starts to live stream this shit.
I take a hard right at the light and speed up for a dozen yards before slamming on the brakes.
The people in the seats behind me shout in alarm, but the motion forces the rear door to slam closed.
Nothing about this piece of shit bus is bulletproof, but I don’t need an open back door inviting fucking trouble.
My foot moves back to the gas, and after we’ve gone a few blocks, I turn again.
Toward the US Consulate.
CHAPTER59
Cassie
Suzanne is wailing loudlyin her seat across from me.
I should probably try to comfort her or Bob—who is rocking and crying in the seat ahead of me. But I can’t look away from the man driving our bus.
His head and face are still covered with the ski mask, but the more I stare at him, the more I try to catch another glimpse of his eyes in the oversized rearview mirror, and the more I’m convinced that the man who just killedseveralpeople is Hans.
