Page 100 of Nothing to Fear

No time to deliberate, she dashed left, ripping off her sunglasses, and ran past a line of shops.

Her nerves screamed, driving her faster.

But not fast enough.

She was all alone, her lungs stalling, her legs heavy as lead when she needed to be light as a feather in a breeze.

The hat flew off her head. Her body thrummed with desperation.

To hide.

To escape.

To live.

Shouts and curses rose behind her. She dared a glance back.

Four black-clad mercenaries barreled down the walkway in vicious pursuit. Shoving people from their path, they devoured the distance between them and her.

Oh God. God. Please.

Two ladies strolled out of a clothing store, and she ducked inside. She spotted a bank of changing rooms in the rear beyond racks of dresses and beelined for one with an open door. A salesperson slid out of the way, eyes wide.

“Call the police!” Willow scurried into the stall and locked the door.

She pressed against a full-length mirror, heart crashing against her rib cage. She struggled to hold herself together.

There was no space between the bottom of the door and the floor to see if the men were homing in on the fitting rooms. A gap at the top was large enough to peek out. But if she stood on the bench in the stall, they’d spot her.

A woman screamed. Bam. Bam. Gunfire echoed in her bones.

She slapped a hand over her mouth and swallowed a convulsive sob.

They were in the store. They’d find her. And it wouldn’t take them long.

Her knees softened as if her legs might buckle, but pressure built in her chest. Pursing her lips to keep quiet, she pulled the backpack off so it wouldn’t scrape against the stall.

“Willow,” said a deep male voice outside the dressing room. “We have your sister Laurel. You called her last night. Touching conversation.”

Her insides shuddered in a backwash of nausea.

No, no, no, no…

“I’d hate to ruin her pretty face. Hate even more to kill her. Come out. Cooperate.”

She pinched the back of her hand, frothing with defensive anger. Cooperate? With them framing her? Killing her? Maybe they had plans for something worse.

But they had Laurel. Willow’s nieces weren’t even seven yet. Too young to lose a mother.

“Make it easy. Come out.”

She’d die to protect Laurel, who had a husband and kids, a family who needed her, but men like this couldn’t be trusted. No guarantee they wouldn’t hurt or kill her sister anyway.

If there was a way to be sure…

Boom! A loud thud followed by a splintering bang made her jump. Trepidation clogged her throat, and her lungs held air hostage.

Boom! Another crashing clunk.