Deviation (Clone Chronicles #2)(78)

Beside me, the window rolls down a few inches. “What the hell are you waiting for?” Obadiah hisses at me. “Get in here.”

I can’t tear my eyes from Linc. No more shots have been fired. I try to count how many bullets he’s used and how many he might have left. “I can’t leave without him.”

Obadiah makes a noise of frustration and smacks the oversized steering wheel with both hands.

Across the alley, Linc goes still and then abruptly, he darts forward. A shot rings out. I bite back the urge to scream his name, but a small whimper escapes. Linc makes it to the far wall and fades into the shadows.

“Holy mother,” Obadiah mutters from the driver’s seat. “I’m going to faint.”

“We have to get him,” I say, my eyes still glued to the alley.

I can’t see Linc anymore. My pulse speeds.

Obadiah swears again. From the backseat, Daniel lets loose with his own curse.

“Get in then,” Obadiah growls.

“Obadiah, I can’t—”

“We’re not leaving him, I promise,” Obadiah says, his voice rising. “Now, get in.”

I open the door and climb in next to Obadiah. Daniel pulls his own door shut with a soft click. “All right. Buckle up, everyone,” Obadiah says.

“What are you going to do?” I ask.

Obadiah’s mouth is set in a hard line that would’ve made him look tough if not for the heavy eyeliner ringing his lids. “We’re doing what you said. We’re getting Linc. Now hold on. My brakes are kind of touchy.”

Obadiah puts the car in gear and slams his foot onto the gas.

For a second, the tires spin and we don’t move. Then, they catch and the car shoots backward with a screech. Exhaust blows back against the window and I can’t see anything but foggy darkness as we hurtle into reverse. The car fishtails side to side as we shoot past the place I last saw Linc.

I would scream if any sound could escape my closed throat.

Obadiah gives up on his rearview and stares intently at his side mirror. Without warning, he takes his foot off the gas and slams it against the brake. The car skids and then I am thrown forward against the seat belt.

There’s a heavy thunk and then we lurch to a complete stop.

“What was that?” I ask.

“Shit. We hit something,” Obadiah says.

“Or someone,” Daniel adds.

Outside my window, a form materializes through the cloud of exhaust. It moves steadily closer, smoke and steam pluming around it, until I recognize the figure.

“Linc!” I wrench my door open and throw myself at him. He catches me easily and pushes me back toward the car. “Are you all right?” I ask.

“I’m good.” We wedge into the front passenger seat together. I’m half on his lap and half on the emergency brake. He yanks the door shut behind him. “Let’s go.”

Obadiah doesn’t need to be told twice. He stomps the gas and we shoot down the alley. I bounce and sway as he swings into traffic and accelerates. Linc’s arms slide around me and pull me more securely onto his lap.

“What did we hit?” I ask.

“Emile,” Linc says.

“You’re welcome,” Obadiah says with a whoop as we turn right and meld into downtown traffic. “Geez, I thought you guys were done for. What took you so long?”

I let myself relax against Linc’s chest as I listen to him tell Obadiah what happened with Taylor. Obadiah’s eyes bulge but that’s the extent of his shock. “Well, yeah, I mean, it’s Taylor,” is all he says before letting Linc continue.

The bass in Linc’s voice vibrates from his chest to my back. It would be comforting if not for the never-ending supply of panic shooting through me. One guy. We defeated one guy. Titus said everything I accomplish is because he let it happen. A ball of dread forms in my stomach.

“He never showed?” Obadiah asks Linc. “You don’t think that’s odd given he told Taylor they were on their way?”

“I do,” Linc agrees. “The whole thing was too damn easy. But we have to see it through. We can’t afford to go back now.”

“I’m not saying go back. But I think you’re right about the easy part,” Obadiah says. “He always has something up his sleeve.”

It’s too close to what I’m thinking and an image of Ida on a metal table threatens to crumble my defenses against the panic churning my insides. He’s right. Titus always has something up his sleeve. Who will he kill when he realizes he failed to kill me?

In the backseat, Daniel is quiet and unmoving. His head is tipped back, leaning against the seat. His arm is still bleeding, though not as heavily. His pants are stained with it where he’s pressed it there to apply pressure. His chest rises and falls in a rhythm far too slow to be healthy. I know he has a long road to recover from what Titus has done to him.

We navigate across town. The money slowly evaporates and gives way to forgotten warehouses and low-income housing. I recognize this street as the back way to the safe house. But this isn’t where we park. It’s too exposed. Too easy to spot.

“Why are we stopped?” I ask.

No one answers. I look over at Obadiah but his gaze is fixed on the horizon. I follow the path of his eyes but all I see are nondescript, abandoned buildings.