The Accidental Assassin (4 page)

If this morning was any indication of how this interview would go, I was already screwed six ways to Sunday. By the time I made it to the garage, I was a complete mess. My stomach was in knots. The rain had started again and I could hear it pounding away outside. Driving would be a nightmare and I was already nervous about the interview.

I made my way to the car and pressed the unlock key. I was halfway into the seat before I realized I was on the wrong side.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake! Will anything go right today?” I got out and stomped around to the other side. “Stupid ass car with the steering wheel on the wrong damn side.” I muttered under my breath as I climbed in, situating my stuff and taking a deep breath. I clenched the steering wheel as my stomach knotted even tighter.

Something dark fluttered beside my car, like a shadow shifting feet. I leaned forward and looked around. Nothing. There was nothing there and I was stalling.

“I can do this.” I could do this. I was going to drive all the way to this interview and then kick ass. It was going to be good. English driving had to be better the second time around, right? I’d have picked up some stuff. I shouldn’t be so afraid.

I put the car in reverse, my eyes on the rear view mirror, and reached down to turn on the GPS. Someone shouted as I slid out of the spot and I slammed my foot down on the pedal.

Unfortunately, it was the wrong pedal. A loud sick crunch filled the car as it slammed into something solid, and I saw a dark shape fly across the parking lot.

My heart froze as my brain processed what had just happened. Thankfully the rest of my body kept moving and I threw the car into park before jumping out of my seat.

“Oh my god!” My heart stuttered in my chest and panic lit my veins like fire. Blood pooled under the man’s head and his body was twisted at an unnatural angle. A long stick with a mirror attached to the end lay a few feet away. I couldn’t see his face, but I recognized the severe haircut.

“Mr. Song? Mr. Song, are you okay? I’m so sorry. I never saw you.” I knelt down to check the man. He didn’t move and I reached out to check for a pulse. It was so weak I couldn’t even find it. “Mr. Song? Oh, God. Oh no. Oh no.”

I stood up to go call for help, my eyes swung wildly around the empty garage. My heart was beating so loudly I never heard the person behind me. Someone grabbed my wrist and spun me against the car.

“It was an accident!” I immediately assumed I was being arrested. It was the only thing that made sense to me, but it didn’t stop me from trying to stand back up. “You have to help him!”

“I fucking knew they’d sent someone else.” A hand pushed me forward so my face was pressed against the trunk. “Who sent you?” The voice sounded familiar. The man’s hand slid around my waist and along my small belt.

“What are you doing? That man’s dying!” I hollered and tried to wiggle away. Fear made it hard to breathe. “We need to get him help. Let me go!”

“He’s not dying. He’s dead.” His free hand slid down the outside of my leg before sliding up the inside of my thighs, brushing along my panties. “How did he know about the bomb?”

“Hey! Fuck off, pervert!” I stepped back, my heel landing on his instep just like I’d learned in college, but he didn’t budge. If this was a cop, he’d just crossed my boundaries. I tried to wiggle away from him again and he just grunted.

“Who do you work for?” He leaned close, his body pressing into mine so that he could keep me in place as his hands rummaged through my pockets before moving to trace the underwire of my bra with strong fingers. “Where’s your weapon?”

“Get off me!” I managed to get one arm free and twisted in his grasp, just enough for my elbow to make contact with his jaw.

He stepped back and I spun away from the car, intent on making a run for it. Stepping to the side, he blocked the most direct route to the exit, and officially filled my view. His narrowed gaze did nothing to diminish the impact of his green eyes and I wanted to punch him for turning out to be a creep.

“You?” I frowned, disoriented. “What the hell is wrong with you? We need to get help for him! And you need to keep your hands to yourself.” I shoved him and tried to get back to Mr. Song.

“You can drop the innocent act. He’s dead.” He stepped closer and gripped my arm. “And I don’t appreciate you taking my hit. When did they hire you?”

“What are you talking about?” I tried to edge further away from him. “He’s dead?” Hit? My breath hitched. I’d killed someone? I’d killed someone on my way to an interview. Oh my God, I killed him. Nausea washed over me and I sucked in air like a dying fish.

“What’s your name?” Green Eyes considered my face carefully. He seemed to be studying me, processing whatever he saw in my eyes. With a jerk of his head he motioned toward Mr. Song’s mangled body and I shuddered. “Two weeks and he never once checked his car. Until today. Have you been tailing me?”

“Tailing you?” I yanked myself away from him and wrapped my arms around my midsection. I was a murderer. Was it manslaughter, or vehicular homicide? Did they use those terms in the UK? My brain couldn’t process the fact that I had killed a man so it resorted to being angry. It was like there were short circuits in my grey matter. It didn’t compute; didn’t make sense. How could I have killed a man, just like that?

“Your name.” It wasn’t a question.

“Go to hell! I’m not telling you my name.” I looked away from Song’s body and fought the bile rising in my throat.

“We’re standing over a dead man that you just killed in a parking garage. I’d think telling me your name would be the least of your worries.” His mouth twitched.

“Or it’s a really good damn reason not to! Now get out of my way so I can go get him help.” I started to step around him, but he moved to block my way.

“You really didn’t mean to kill him.” The realization swept over his face.

“No shit, Sherlock.” My heart was beating so fast I could swear he could hear it. I stared into his eyes, wishing that I could understand what was going on. Wishing that we were talking under different circumstances.

A loud shot filled the garage and Green Eyes threw himself into me and pulled me to the ground.

“What the fuck?” I tried to scramble away from him, but he wouldn’t let me up.

“Be still!” He looked down at me and I froze. There was no denying the serious look in his eyes. “Don’t move.”

He slid off of me and rolled onto his side, scanning under the cars. I could hear the steps of someone as they walked across the concrete, and I felt the flutters of panic grip my throat. I looked around trying to pinpoint where the sound was coming from. Warm fingers closed on my wrist and I looked to where Green Eyes jerked his chin.

About four cars away I could see red heels next to a tire. Squeezing my hand to get my attention, this man that had just felt me up now motioned for me to be quiet and follow him. He pointed for me to climb into the driver side of the car next to us and I shook my head. Hadn’t he been here five minutes ago when I ran someone over? He jerked his head again and pointed at me, then back at the car.

I shook my head and pointed at the dead man whose blood was slowly creeping across the pavement toward us. I’d killed the poor man, I wasn’t about to steal his car, too. And now someone was trying to kill us. Probably a bodyguard or maybe the police.

Another shot slammed into the side of Danny’s car and I moved without thinking. Apparently self-preservation was an instinct. Yanking open the door of Song’s car, I flew into the driver seat and searched for the keys. I was vaguely aware of Green Eyes standing up and calmly pointing a gun over the roof of the car before firing.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” My grandmother would be horrified at my language, but damn it, if there was ever a time to use it, it was now ! “There’s no key!” I looked over at the man coolly sliding into the passenger seat.

The coldest green eyes I’d ever seen met mine and I shivered. He handed me a single silver key—obviously a copy of the original, but I didn’t care. I shoved it into the ignition and threw the car in reverse. There was a sickening crunch, but I didn’t have time to feel bad about running over Mr. Song again. A loud crack had me ducking as a bullet slammed into the back window. It didn’t shatter though, and in some distant part of my mind I wondered why Mr. Song had bulletproof glass.

“Feel free to run over anyone else in our way.” Calmly he turned in his seat and lowered his window. Humor warmed his eyes.

“Not funny.” I turned the first corner of the garage just as he fired another shot. The sound made me wince and I jerked the steering wheel. The car clipped the bumper of a delivery van and threw Green Eyes against his door.

“I was joking. Please try to not do that.” He looked at me, his expression serious. “There’s a bomb on the bottom of this car.”

I turned to look at him and felt my mouth fall open. “A bomb! There’s a bomb in this car? Why is there a bomb in this car? What kind of bomb?”

“The kind that goes boom. It was meant for Mr. Song, who you managed to kill without a bomb, and technically it’s on the car, not in it.” He twisted in his seat so that he was facing forward again. “It should be fine. It’s set to go off by remote and I have that right here.” He patted his pocket.

I twisted the steering wheel sharply as I exited the garage and almost knocked over the doorman. But he was holding a large gun in one hand and to my shock he fired directly at my window. The glass shattered, but I didn’t feel any pain, which I hoped meant I wasn’t hit. I ducked in a belated reaction and the car swerved wildly, but the gun-toting hottie next to me steadied the wheel.

“I knew that doorman didn’t like me.” I gritted my teeth. “What an asshole. He’s almost as bad as you are.”

“I’ll drive now, if you’d like.” He said it like we were taking turns on a road trip, not running for our lives. Maybe he wasn’t running for his life. But I was still running for mine. I didn’t know what this guy wanted with me. Was I supposed to just let him drive me to some creepy kill room? An image of walls draped in plastic, knives on a table, and a bed with chains filled my mind. I didn’t think so.

“Now? You want to drive now?” My voice rose with each word. “Sure, I’ll pull over at the corner for a snack and let you take over. Holy shit! Are you crazy?”

“Has anyone ever told you that for such a beautiful woman you have a very dirty mouth?” He smiled at me as my mouth worked silently. “I think I like the odd combination.”

“Fuck you.” I glared at the road.

“So does that mean you don’t want me to drive?” He nodded toward the traffic that was growing thicker. “Do you have a plan for where to go?”

“The cops.” I didn’t mention that I had no idea where they would be located. I’d just stop the first one I saw. “And you told me to get in the driver seat.”

“You’re sure you want to go to the police?” He leaned back into his seat, getting comfortable. He looked, for all the world, as if riding around in a car with a bomb attached to it was normal. “You killed a man and fled the scene in his stolen car—which has a bomb attached to it. Oh, and someone was trying to kill you. I’m sure being locked in a tiny room with nowhere to run will make their job much more difficult.”

“Maybe they were trying to kill you. I can imagine why they’d want to.” I growled and turned down a street that was one way only. And I was going the wrong way. I muttered under my breath as I dodged cars and people honked at me. “I should’ve stayed in bed today.”

“Possibly. They were very sloppy.” He pointed to a street. “You should turn here and take the roundabout.”

“Roundabout?” My heart dropped into my stomach and I broke into a cold sweat. “That seems like a bad idea.”

Roundabouts were the devil. If you’ve ever tried to drive through a roundabout after years of driving in America, you’d understand. Everything was completely backward to how you instinctually drove. It gave me an ulcer just thinking about it.

“We’re being followed. We need to lose them.” He looked at me with serious eyes. “If you want to live, we need to put distance between us and the people in the black sedan.”

“Oh, Jesus.” I jerked the wheel and our car shot down the road toward the evil traffic circle of death.

“Don’t stop, go around them.” I swerved into oncoming traffic to avoid the cars waiting at the stop sign. Horns blared, people shouted, and I gritted my teeth. If I made it out of this alive, I’d kiss the ground.

I could hear people screeching to a halt as I blew into the traffic circle and weaved between the cars.

“Here.” He pointed to a road and I didn’t hesitate as I turned. Belatedly, I wondered where the police were. Surely there should be screeching sirens and flashing lights in my rearview mirror at any minute. The part of me that wasn’t required to pay attention prayed to have someone else to turn this mess over to, someone to make sense of the last thirty minutes.

Had it even been thirty minutes? Probably closer to five minutes. It felt like hours.

A pedestrian stepped into a crosswalk and I slammed on my brakes. Dear God, don’t let me kill anyone else. The rear tires slid in a wild fishtail and my arms locked stiffly as I fought the wheel to keep control. Without thinking I took my foot off of the brake and slammed it onto the gas pedal, wrenching the vehicle around the dazed man and through the intersection.

“Nice.” Green Eyes nodded his head as if I had done something impressive when I had only been trying to not pee my pants.

“If I can’t go to the cops, where do you suggest I go?” I gritted my teeth as I tore through another intersection.

“Out of town would be best.” His head ducked so he could look out the mirror on his side of the car. “The less people around, the better we can stay hidden.”

I took a deep breath. “So I’m stuck with you?”

“It could be worse.” He shrugged.

“How could it possibly be worse? I just killed a man in a fucking parking garage! I killed him! His brains are probably stuck to the cement!”

“Well, you could be trapped with the people shooting at you right now.” He pointed toward a side street. “And it’s not your fault. Song was creeping through the garage trying to not be seen. There was no way you could know that he was behind you. The blood splatter would prove your innocence.”