“The one and only.” Because he would require his passenger to do the same, Chase pulled out his wallet and flashed his ID and security badge.
The man fumbled with his own wallet. “I’m Sam Michaels.”
The name confirmed this man was, indeed, his assigned passenger, but Chase looked carefully at the driver’s license and accompanying photo ID anyway, putting both to memory. Samuel Michaels. Washington, D.C. Personal aide to the ambassador of South Africa. DOB 06-06-1981.
Confident everything was in order, Chase walked to the passenger door and opened it, ushering his client inside. “Logan Airport?”
The man smiled wryly as he climbed into the limo’s plush backseat. “Not that any of the airlines are operational in this blackout.”
“Where you headed?”
“London. Sometime tomorrow, if I’m lucky.”
“Hopefully, the power outage won’t last much longer.”
“Any idea what happened?”
Chase shook his head. “Most of the radio stations were knocked off the air, but some are bound to have backup generators that are up and running by now. I’ll see if I can pick up a newscast.”
Closing the door, he crossed in front of the vehicle and slid behind the wheel. Getting to the airport was going to be a challenge.
Chase wasn’t overly concerned. A speed freak and racing enthusiast, he’d never met a road or highway he couldn’t traverse no matter what the conditions.
He pulled onto the street, squeezing Irma between a city bus and a taxicab with inches to spare. The move elicited the simultaneous blare of a dozen horns but, like most professional drivers, he didn’t pay them any heed.
A second glance in the mirror told him Samuel Michaels was not a nervous passenger. Probably a good thing since getting him to Logan was going to take nothing less than a miracle.
“There’s a bar in the forward cabinet,” Chase said. “Help yourself.”
Sam Michaels smiled. “Looks like I might need a nip or two by the time we get there.”
“Hang on. Bump ahead.” Chase took the limo onto the curb to get around a BMW that had played chicken with a Ford pickup and lost.
He was so focused on maneuvering through the jumble of cars that for several minutes Chase did nothing but drive. Traffic eased marginally when he turned onto Interstate 93. Deciding to avoid the Ted Williams Tunnel for fear of an immovable traffic jam, he headed north toward the financial district.
When he finally took a second to look in his rearview mirror to check on his passenger, he found himself staring into the barrel of a sleek Ruger Mark III .22 pistol replete with a magazine release and front and rear sights. A killer’s gun.
“What the hell are you doing?” Chase said with outer calm as his gaze met his passenger’s.
“Repaying a debt.”
“What debt?” Adrenaline punched him like a fist, but he kept his eyes and voice level. “Who the hell are you?”
“It doesn’t matter who I am, Vic. I know who you are. That’s the important thing.”
Vic.
The only people who called him that were his teammates from Special Forces, three of whom comprised Eclipse. Once again his mind scrolled through possible enemies he’d made over the years, but he couldn’t recall any escapees or recently released inmates.
“What do you want?” Chase asked.
The man leaned forward. “You’re about to find out what it feels like to lose everything that matters to you.”
“What are you talking about?”
The man’s smile chilled him.
Chase knew it was crazy, but Lily came to mind. He hadn’t seen her for almost eight months, but the time apart hadn’t dulled his feelings for her. Lily Garrett was the only thing in this world that truly mattered to him. Had this man somehow found out that he’d once been involved with her? Was he going to hurt Lily to get back at Chase for some perceived wrong?
Knowing this wasn’t going to end nicely, Chase swung the steering wheel hard to the right. He caught a glimpse of his passenger trying to hold on while sliding sideways on the backseat. The gun came up. “Stop or I’ll blow your head off!”
Steel screamed against steel when the limo careened into a parked delivery van. The man’s temple snapped hard against the side window. Strapped in securely with his safety belt, Chase jammed the limo into Reverse and hit the gas. He saw a flash of blue steel in the mirror and jerked the wheel hard to the left. The passenger slid to the opposite side. Chase slammed on the brake and the man’s head struck the partially open Plexiglas divider separating the passenger compartment from the cab.
Ramming the limo into Park, Chase unbuckled his seat belt, spun and jammed his torso through the small opening. He reached for Michaels and snagged the collar of his tux. Cursing, the man scrambled back, grappling for his weapon. He tried to get off a shot, but Chase shoved his arm and the bullet went wide, blowing a hole the size of his thumb through the roof.
“Now that wasn’t very nice,” Chase growled through clenched teeth.
“Maybe I want you to be alive when we kill her,” the man snarled.
Her.
The man had to be referring to Lily. Panic gripped Chase. Was this thug planning to use her to get to him? The thought of some goon hurting her in the name of revenge made him break a cold sweat.
Too late, he saw the gun come up. He reached for the muzzle to deflect it, but because of his awkward position, he wasn’t fast enough. A second gunshot rent the night. The bullet struck his arm like a five-hundred-degree baseball bat slamming a home run. But he didn’t have time to feel the high-voltage shock of pain. The son of a bitch was already lining up for another shot.
Pulling away, Chase shoved the gearshift into Drive and floored the accelerator. The limo jumped forward like a big predator. The engine roared, the RPMs redlining. Chase cut the wheel. The front quarter panel clipped a streetlight. The limo spun. Chase saw the man slide across the backseat and crash into the door. Jamming the limo into Reverse, he hit the gas. The vehicle shot backward like a racehorse out of the gate and slammed into a parked car hard enough to whip his skull against the headrest.
Knowing this was probably his last chance to gain control of the situation, he reached for his own weapon beneath his seat and swung open the door. By the time he was out and had yanked open the passenger door, Michaels had slipped out the opposite side.
“Halt!” Assuming a shooter’s stance, Chase took aim over the limo’s roof and fired off three shots. But the man moved too fast, darting around cars and through the crowd. Within seconds, darkness swallowed him.
Chase stood trembling, wondering what the hell had just happened. The
