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“Thirty more feet,” Brendan huffed out between breaths. “I parked on a side curb.”
The screams and pounding feet of the other guests slowly dispersed as they made their way down the sidewalk.
Something clanked by her feet, and she staggered, clasping her lavender gown and hiking the hem higher so she wouldn’t trip. “What was that?”
Brendan steadied her and tugged her forward. “The goggles. I shed them.”
“Freeze, señor, or I’ll shoot.”
Genevieve angled her body behind Brendan and fisted his suit jacket, pushing him forward. “Keep running.”
“What are you doing?” Brendan asked frantically, trying to turn toward her.
She shoved at his back. “Putting myself in the line of fire.”
“What?” he sputtered. “No.”
“Yes,” she shouted. “Keep running. He won’t shoot if I’m in danger. Mateo has strict instructions not to harm me.”
“Mateo?”
“Never mind. Just trust me and get us in the car.” She stumbled over Brendan’s heels and grabbed on for dear life. “Sorry, my eyes and ears are still off-kilter.”
“Almost there.”
“Ouch.” Painful pokes pierced her feet. “What is that?”
“Lava rocks in the flower beds. Sorry.”
She powered across the rough stones. “Ow, ow, ow.”
Brendan thudded into an object she prayed was the car. A door ripped open, and he pushed her inside. A few seconds later, another door opened and slammed shut—she assumed the driver’s side.
“Find your seatbelt if you can,” Brendan rushed out before twisting the key and shifting into gear.
“I’m still seeing splotches,” she stammered. “Forget the seatbelt. That’s the least of our worries.”
Brendan accelerated, blasting them forward, and Genevieve froze before desperately gasping in a few panicky breaths. Lights blurred in her peripheral vision as if they were riding Space Mountain on steroids at Disneyland.
Pop, pop, pop. Glass shattered.
A shriek erupted from her lungs. “He’s shooting at us!” Her skin iced over. “Brendan!” No response. “Brendan, are you alive?”
“Yes, sorry, just concentrating.” He sounded too calm for this to be real. Was she dreaming? “Relax, he’s shooting at me, not you.”
“That’s supposed to make me feel better?” she spat hysterically. “Are you shot?”
“Nope.”
They spiraled around a corner, tires screeching. “Don’t crash.” She clutched the door handle, tensing every muscle in her body. “They’ll capture you if you do.”
Brendan reached out and squeezed her free hand. “It’s okay, Genevieve, you can relax. They can’t catch us now—I’ve got the jump on them. Besides, we don’t have far to go.”
He rounded another corner and squealed the car to an abrupt halt. The driver’s door opened and closed before her car door wrenched open. Police sirens wailed in the distance.
Brendan bent down and grasped her hand. “We need to get inside.”
“Inside where?”
