Page 99 of Nothing to Fear

How much were these guards getting paid?

Gideon popped the guy’s wrist with the handle of the screwdriver, and his fingers opened, releasing the gun. It fell into Gideon’s palm. He caught the terrified gaze of the second security guard as he went for the weapon on the floor.

“Tsk-tsk.” Gideon shook his head in warning.

Raising their hands, both guards backed away, and he picked up the second gun. Not injuring the security might go a long way with the local authorities if he had to face them.

Tucking one gun against the small of his back and holding the other, he swiped his tools from the floor. He hustled to retrieve the thumb drive, vectoring his gaze to the entrance.

No other mercs rushed inside the bank. But there were most certainly more of them. The only question was how many were outside after Willow.

He snatched her passport from a stunned Mr. Walters and plucked an earpiece from a downed merc. The sound of his pounding footsteps filled the lobby as he cleared the twenty feet to the door and bolted outside.

38

Grand Cayman

Monday, July 8, 9:37 a.m. EST/10:37 a.m. EDT

Willow darted down the street, weaving in between people. She risked a quick glance over her shoulder.

The tough-looking guy who’d been lurking in front of the bank still followed her. She couldn’t outrun him. If she put enough distance between them, maybe she’d lose him in the hotel. But could she make it to the room before he caught her?

Abject fear prickled along every nerve ending. She snapped another peek back and met the eyes of a stone-cold killer.

She whipped her face forward and gathered her courage. Hustling to the corner, her sneakers slapping on the hot pavement, she prayed for a break in traffic to cross the main street to the hotel.

Three more men stalked out of her hotel lobby, dressed in clothing dark as death. One was huge and familiar. The same husky monster shaped like a powerlifter from Ken’s.

Gideon, where are you?

Their gazes zeroed in on her. The harsh glare of their mirrored sunglasses speared her in place. She fought to swallow past the lump choking her throat.

Balmy air pressed in, licking her skin. Street noises—car radios, vehicles braking, rubber tires rolling across asphalt, pedestrians chattering—rose in an amplified crescendo, filling her ears.

Lowering her gaze, she went to turn as casually as possible, but the men leapt into action. They pounded through the traffic, tearing across the road. The other mercenary on her side of the street charged toward her.

Her pulse kicked into a wild streak. Mind spinning, she scrambled to escape. She was moving, with no sense of direction except away from the danger closing in.

Where to run? How would Gideon find her?

She needed to keep moving and to think.

Whirling left, she faced the gleaming glass doors of a mega resort on the other side of a small road. Gideon wouldn’t know to look for her in there.

Oh, God. There wasn’t time for other options. Her hand flew to her throat and she gripped her mother’s pearls—the only heirloom Willow had left.

She yanked hard on her necklace as if it were the ripcord of a parachute.

The vintage choker popped. Pink pearls rained down, scattering like last-ditch breadcrumbs. She bolted across the side street, pushing through the gut-punch of grief.

She ran to the front doors of the resort, glancing over her shoulder.

The men were almost on her, their faces those of rabid jackals thirsting for blood.

Run. Run. RUN. She took off at a sprint and burst inside the resort. The sprawling lobby teemed with droves of tourists. Chatter buzzed around her.

She threaded past people, dropping the last pearls. Three directions to choose from. She couldn’t pick an option that’d leave her cornered.