Splinter (The Machinists Book 2) (6 page)

“Jaxon,” Leira called from another room. “In here.”

Jaxon’s eyes widened in alarm, and he rushed out of the room. Allyn followed, finding Jaxon and Leira in his bedroom. In front of them, on the foot of his bed, was a laptop. It was open, displaying the video from the ambush.

Allyn felt three sets of eyes on him. “That’s not mine.”

The video began again.

Allyn sat down and pulled the computer onto his lap. He stopped the video and minimized the screen. The desktop was empty, save for a single unnamed folder, which opened into two or three dozen subfolders. The top one was titled “Moscow, Russia
.
”
Dresden, Germany. Nuremberg, Germany. Bucharest, Romania. Lisbon, Portugal. Macau, China.
He read through each of them until he came across one that piqued his interest.
Portland, Oregon
.

“What are they?” Leira asked.

Allyn opened the folder and took in a sharp breath.

“What is it?” Jaxon asked.

Allyn shook his head, staring on in horror.

“Allyn?” Nyla asked.

This isn’t real
. He scanned the subfolder’s contents.
This can’t be real
.

Nyla dropped onto the bed beside him. She ignored the computer, looking at him.

“It’s me.” Allyn pointed at the contents within the Portland subfolder. “It’s all me.”

He double-clicked on the first item. It was a newspaper article taken from the
Oregonian
—the same one Graeme had shown him during his first days at the McCollum Manor. It described the strange circumstances of Kendyl’s disappearance and named him as a person of interest. The second item was another newspaper article, this one taken from the
Columbian.
The writer of this article had a police statement regarding the condition of Allyn’s condo. It, too, was considered a crime scene. It still hadn’t named Allyn as a suspect. There were other newspaper articles, photographs, and work and college records, some dating back to his childhood. Whoever was behind the video was building a timeline of his life. A biography.

“I don’t like this,” Jaxon said.

Allyn clicked on another subfolder. Though it had fewer contents than the previous one, this folder also tracked a single person—a raven-haired girl. He clicked on another subfolder. Then another. Each contained files regarding a different person.

“Destroy it,” Jaxon said.

Allyn looked up with a start. “What? No!”

“If we destroy it, we’ll lose our only lead,” Leira said.

“It’s not worth the risk.” Jaxon reached for the computer.

Allyn slid it aside, placing himself between it and Jaxon. “What risk?”

“Someone could track it back to us the same way we tracked it here.”

“Liam tracked the Internet carrier,” Allyn said. “Not the computer. The only way we found it is because they logged on to my Wi-Fi.”

“Allyn—”

“Someone wanted us to find it.”

“That’s what concerns me.”

“I think they’re looking for me.” Allyn looked at the computer. “For us. Each one of these folders is a different person. It’s not only me they’re searching for.”

“Who?”

“If we don’t take the computer, we’ll never know.” He minimized the screen, showing them the blank desktop. “There’s nothing else on here. No other pictures. No videos. No school papers. This computer has one purpose—to get our attention.”

“If there’s nothing on it, how will it lead us to who’s behind it?” Nyla asked.

“Just because there’s nothing on here now doesn’t mean nothing ever was,” Allyn said. “If there was, Liam can find it. It might lead us to another clue.”

“I don’t like it,” Jaxon said. “But I like being in this place even less. Grab the computer, and let’s go.”

Allyn slapped the computer shut and tucked it under his arm. Jaxon was out the door before he looked up. He thought about grabbing other belongings—the compression armor was constricting and not particularly warm—but without a way to carry any of it, he decided against it.

Jaxon, Leira, and Nyla were already on the next set of stairs by the time Allyn made it to the living room. He was alone. He didn’t consider himself a sentimental person, but faced with leaving his condo for possibly the final time, he found himself unable to move. Overlooking the recent damage, he remembered the condo for what it had been. He remembered the fun times. The late nights with friends. Drinks and games with coworkers. The occasional dinner with Kendyl. The quiet nights alone. It wasn’t the memories that got to him, but the idea that he would never be able to recreate them again. His life had changed from a quiet, private life to a communal one. He wasn’t making decisions for himself anymore; he was making decisions for the Family. And it left him feeling as if he were in a perpetual state of running. Running from Lukas. Running from the police. Running from who he’d used to be. Running from who he needed to become.

Suppressing a frown, Allyn took a final look and left.

Jaxon pulled the car around and parked in the center of the street, leaving the engine running. Another car approached slowly, but it was still a few units down, so Allyn stepped into the street, ducking his head and holding the computer against his chest. Rain pelted him, streaking off his compression armor and soaking his pants in an instant. The approaching car, a newer Chevy Impala, stopped as Allyn neared Jaxon’s black sedan. The other car was white with blacked-out windows, but Allyn could see two men through the windshield. The driver was a mammoth of a man with a bald head on broad shoulders. He had a neatly trimmed goatee and large, deep-set eyes. The passenger was about Allyn’s build, though he appeared more solid, with styled hair and a movie-star face. Both men were watching him.

“Allyn,” Jaxon said from the driver’s seat, his voice tight, “get in.”

Red and blue lights flared to life.

Chapter 7

“G
o! Go! Go!” Allyn shouted, diving into the car.

Jaxon stomped on the gas, and his black Lincoln Town Car lurched forward, tires squealing. Sirens blared behind them, and the darkness became a violent mixture of red and blue lights as the white Impala flipped a U-turn in pursuit. They tore through the community, Jaxon’s sedan maintaining the half-block head start.

Allyn grabbed the seatbelt. It was stuck. He yanked harder.
Locked.
“Shit!”

Jaxon swerved to the left, narrowly missing a pickup backing out of a driveway. The force threw Allyn against the door, smacking his head into the window. Dazed, he was even less prepared when Jaxon slammed on the brakes and turned out of the neighborhood. Allyn flew across the backseat and crashed into Nyla, his feet in the rear window, head in the floorboard.

“Get buckled!” Nyla shoved him back toward his seat.

Frantic, Allyn righted himself and fell into his seat. He pulled the seatbelt across his body and snapped it locked.

“Ideas?” Jaxon shouted.

“Uh…”
Where are we?
Large craftsman and Tudor-style homes with Subarus and hybrid vehicles parked in their driveways lined both sides of the street. White lights lit the trees along the road, making the narrow street look like a runway. They were racing toward a stop sign. Jaxon sped through the intersection, and Allyn glimpsed a busy street lined with small shops and more lights. He suddenly knew where they were.

And they were going the wrong way. “Right!” Allyn yelled. “Go right!”

“Where?”

“Anywhere!”

The car jerked right. Allyn stiffened, grabbing onto the seat and the side of the door, screaming.

Jaxon accelerated through the drift, counter-steering to the left, and stabbed the gas, bringing the car back under control in time to avoid the cars parked along the street.

Allyn’s jaw fell open.
Where did Jaxon learn to drive like that?

“Now where?”

“Another right!”

“That’s the way we came.”

“Do it!”

Jaxon took another corner with expert precision. This time, Allyn was a little more prepared, but he still held on, expecting the screech of metal on metal. When it didn’t come, he looked out the back window. The Impala slid around the corner, red and blue lights still flashing. It was now over a full block behind them, but somewhere in the distance, Allyn heard more sirens.

“We need to lose them,” Allyn said. “The longer this plays out, the more cops we’ll have on our ass.”

“Where are you taking us?”

“Out of the city.”

They were heading north, toward the highway, but Allyn had no intention of taking them
there
. The moment they got on the highway, they were done, but hidden within the suburban sprawl, they had a chance of escape. They had to make it into the West Hills, where they could lose their pursuers somewhere in the winding roads and dense forests. But they had to get there first.

The buildings whipped by in a blur. Allyn liked to think Northwest Portland was divided into three sectors. The high-end shops and restaurants, the private coffee shops and local breweries of Northwest Twenty-First and Twenty-Third, then the residential area to the north and west. Jaxon had them in the third sector, the business sector, where there was a strange mixture of warehouses, office buildings, and storefronts. The roads were wide enough to accommodate dual-axle semis, and thankfully, business was closed for the day, and the foot traffic was minimal.

Everett. Flanders. Glisan. They tore past the streets in a flash. Hoyt. Irving. Johnson. They were getting close. Allyn turned to look behind them again—

Headlights. Tires squealed.
Bang!

The truck hit them on the passenger side.

The Town Car lurched violently. Nyla’s window shattered, and glass peppered Allyn’s face. The world spun. Something silver and heavy flew past Allyn’s head, slamming into the window behind him. There was a second bang as the car clipped something hard then whipped back around in the opposite direction. It teetered on two wheels, threatening to flip over, then fell back onto its tires with a
crash
of finality.

Allyn’s heart thundered, and his knuckles were white from gripping the side of the door and seat. The world had gone silent. He could see the white Impala racing toward them, lights still flashing, but he couldn’t hear the sirens anymore. In that moment, the car almost seemed to be coming to their aid.

Trembling, Allyn held his hands in front of him. He was cut, scraped, and bruised, but he didn’t think he was seriously hurt. Nyla was limp, and blood poured down the side of her face.

“Nyla!” Allyn reached for her. His breath caught as pain shot through his chest. The seatbelt cut into him. He was leaning back in the seat, letting the seatbelt relax, when the car roared back to life. Anger. Pain. Squealing. Allyn was pinned against his seat as the car sped up, rushing down the street like an athlete attempting to walk off an injury. The night had grown darker.
No
, Allyn realized—their car now only had one headlight.

The sirens returned. The Impala was heading straight toward them.

Jaxon floored it. Though hesitant and not as powerful as before, the car zipped forward. Jaxon wore a determined expression, his hands tightening over the steering wheel as the two cars sped toward each other. Half a block away, the Impala slid to a halt, and its back end swung around to block a large portion of the street. As if he had expected it, Jaxon veered right, toward the parking lot of a nearby business. A shower of sparks accompanied a sharp scraping noise against the undercarriage as they hit the driveway and nearly launched into the air. Nyla swayed against the seatbelt, her head bobbing violently from side to side.

The two men in the Impala watched in surprise as the Town Car shot through the parking lot. There was another shower of sparks as Jaxon pulled onto the street. He had them traveling toward Twenty-First, toward the traffic and crowds. Already, the road was growing more congested.

The distant sirens drew closer.

“We’re not going to make it far,” Jaxon said.

They didn’t have many options. The Impala was only a block or two behind them again, and Allyn didn’t believe their car would last much longer. It hissed and squealed, and the rear tire sounded as if it might fall off. But they couldn’t ditch it and try and escape on foot, either. Not with Nyla unconscious. Not unless they put some distance between them and the Impala.

“Punch it.” Allyn hated himself for saying it. It was risky. There were people everywhere, and shoppers in the Northwest acted as if they were exempt from traffic laws and impervious to accidents. They wouldn’t see them coming. But if Jaxon could get past Twenty-Third, they stood a chance of escaping. From there, the traffic would thin out again, and they would be in the residential area.
What then?
“Use the horn and punch it.”
Get there first, and we’ll figure it out
.

Jaxon let out a pained breath and laid on the horn.

Almost as loud as a bullhorn, the racket made the pedestrians on the sidewalk jump in surprise. The Impala, as if understanding what Jaxon was planning, began chirping its sirens, drawing more attention to the speeding cars. Jaxon barreled through Twenty-First without incident then swerved past a car on Twenty-Second, continuing forward unscathed and distancing the Town Car from the Impala.

They raced toward the Twenty-Third intersection at freeway speeds. They were committed, and Jaxon couldn’t slow down in time, even if he wanted to.

Allyn’s stomach dropped when he saw a family about to step into the crosswalk. Bundled under thick coats and hidden under an umbrella, the two young children were oblivious to the oncoming car. Jaxon gave a series of sharp horn blasts then held one long, continuous one.

The child in the crosswalk froze—a young girl, maybe six years old, wearing a pink coat with her hood drawn up. Her eyes were wide with terror as the black monster barreled toward her.
Get out of the way
, Allyn thought.
Please! Move!

Jaxon screamed and slammed on the brakes. The tires locked up and slid on the wet pavement, screeching and billowing smoke. In a single swoop of his arm, the girl’s father snatched her out of the crosswalk. Still screaming, Jaxon stabbed the gas, accelerating into the intersection, clipping the front of a red Mercedes. A shower of sparks exploded against Allyn’s door, and Jaxon nearly lost control. He slid beyond the intersection, bouncing off a parked car before finally righting the vehicle.

Crash!

Allyn looked behind them. Steam bloomed from the hood of the Mercedes, obscuring the white Impala that had slammed into it. Jaxon must have hit the Mercedes hard enough to block the intersection.

We did it
, Allyn thought.
It worked!
The driver stepped out of the Mercedes just before Jaxon turned down a side street. Somewhere, buried under his relief, Allyn felt bad for the other driver.

“See that traffic signal up ahead?” Allyn asked. “That’s Lovejoy. Turn left onto it and follow it up the hill.”

Jaxon nodded and slowed to a more reasonable speed. The sirens had grown faint, but Allyn still didn’t want to attract more attention
. Though a Town Car with a shattered headlight isn’t exactly inconspicuous
.

Turning his attention to Nyla, Allyn felt concern quickly replace exultation. She was slumped against the seatbelt, blood dripping from her face. Leira unbuckled and climbed between the front seats to get into the back with them. She took Nyla’s hand in hers, and white pulses of energy immediately rippled up Nyla’s arm, disappearing under her navy compression armor. When they reached the top of her head and the tips of her fingers, they reversed course, returning back through Nyla’s body to Leira’s hand. With each returning ripple, Leira would learn more about Nyla’s condition.

Leira’s expression softened. “She’s got a bump on the head and some moderate bruising, but other than that, she’s fine.”

“Can you wake her?” Jaxon asked.

“In a moment,” Leira said. The waves of energy took on a new intensity. The white light grew brighter, causing Nyla’s skin to glow, and shot through her with greater urgency. Nyla stirred. Allyn knew that somewhere under the mess of silver hair, the cut on Nyla’s scalp was healing, and another was simultaneously forming on Leira’s head. Because they were mostly minor wounds, Leira had healed them only enough to stop the bleeding. She shouldered the pain with Nyla without taking it all on herself.

As the ripples dimmed and dissipated, Nyla regained consciousness. “What happened?” Her voice was strained and groggy, as if she’d been woken up in the dead of night.

“We escaped.”

“And me?”

“We were in an accident,” Leira said. “You’re okay now.”

“Thank you.” Nyla gave Leira a small smile and sat up to scan their surroundings. “Where are we?”

“We’re—”

The engine sputtered.

Jaxon frowned at the dash, obviously confused. The car sputtered again, and the headlights flickered. Half a block later, the engine died, leaving them coasting.

“What’s wrong?” Leira asked.

“I don’t know,” Jaxon said. The dash lights had gone completely dark.

“Are we out of gas?” Allyn asked.

“No.” Jaxon turned the key. Nothing. He did it again, pumping the gas. Still nothing. Not even a click. “Come on,” he urged the car.

“Find somewhere to pull over,” Allyn said.

That was easier said than done. The neighborhood was full of older homes without garages. Cars lined both sides of the street, not an empty space among them.

Still coasting, Jaxon continued to try to start the car. Eventually, the car came to rest in the middle of a four-way intersection. Jaxon cursed, slamming his hands on the steering wheel in frustration. He turned to the three of them, fury in his eyes. “Out.”

Allyn hesitated. Jaxon’s anger made him uncomfortable. The man was usually so practiced in hiding his emotions. Nyla and Leira attempted to exit the passenger side, but the door wouldn’t open. They turned to him, wearing the same impatient expression.

Allyn popped open the door and jumped out. Seeing the car from the outside, he was amazed it had gone as far as it had. The driver’s door was caved in, and a long red dent trailed behind it like a tail from a meteor. The rear bumper hung on the ground, and the vehicle was leaking a green, oily fluid that smelled like sweet candy. But the real damage was on the passenger side. The truck had hit them just behind Nyla’s door, and the impact had crumpled it, wedging it shut. Nyla’s window was shattered, and the rear tire leaned inward. Smoke escaped from somewhere inside the assembly.

“Stand back,” Jaxon said. He was behind the car, trying to pop the trunk. Allyn barely had time to move before the trunk lid blasted open. Jaxon grabbed an emergency kit and threw it to Allyn, snatched a gallon of water, and slammed the trunk lid closed. Jaxon turned to Allyn and exhaled sharply. “I saw a couple houses under construction several blocks back. We can hide there until things calm down.”

A car pulled up to the stop sign behind them. Allyn cursed under his breath, watching as the car turned toward them.

The driver came to a stop beside Allyn and rolled down his window. The slender man with thinning dark hair and glasses wore a concerned expression. “Is everything all right?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Allyn said. “We’ve got a tow truck on the way.”

“Are you sure?” the driver asked. “I can wait until they arrive.”

“That’s okay. They should be here any minute. I appreciate the offer, though.”

The driver looked at him skeptically but gave him a small smile and nodded. “All right then. Have a good night.”

“Thank you. You, too.”

After the driver pulled away, Allyn turned to Jaxon. “We need to go.”

They hastily made for the sidewalk where century-old maple trees lined the street in the small patches of grass between it and footpath. Their thick, twisting branches blocked the light from the streetlamps, keeping Allyn and his company in the shadows.

Allyn stopped abruptly, cursing.

“What’s wrong?” Nyla asked.

“The computer,” Allyn said, grimacing. “It’s in the car.” He looked back at the old Lincoln. It was almost three blocks away and nearly out of sight. The computer had nearly got them caught once. Was it worth the risk again? They still hadn’t learned who was behind the video.
And those folders.
Who are those other people? Magi? Machinists?
He had to know.

Allyn turned back to Jaxon and met his gaze. “It’s worth it.”

Without waiting for a response, Allyn broke into a run, racing back to the car. By the time he reached the end of the sidewalk, no one had stopped to inspect the Town Car. Waiting for another car to pass, Allyn fought every urge he had to run, instead casually strolling across the street and calmly opening the back door. The computer was on the floorboard, half-hidden under the driver’s seat. Allyn grabbed it and crossed the street again with his same nonchalant pace.

When he returned, Jaxon and the rest were gone.
Where did they—