The Assignment

Chapter 14

Sometimes no amount of training and preparation can adequately prepare you for the experience to come. Sometimes the best weapon you can have is your gut instinct. Sometimes taking a risky adrenaline-fueled chance is your best bet. And then sometimes it still doesn't work out.

My uncle, Jonathan, had trained me extensively in self-defense when I was younger. He'd been a martial arts and women's self-defense instructor for over a decade by the time I turned thirteen. My mother decided it was time for me to learn the proper ways to protect myself, though my juvenile brain thought I already knew everything and wasn't remotely interested in the classes. Looking back on it as I sat in a stolen SUV with a police officer on the run, I was glad Jon had taken the time. I still remembered several of those common self-defense moves, and though I hoped I wouldn't have to use them, I knew that training would come in handy, if necessary.

Then there was Joey. Taking the majority of his day to show me how to sight a pistol, how to properly stand when aiming and firing, how to load, and of course, how to be safe when handling a firearm. Though I knew I needed quite a bit more practice, and I wasn't a completely accurate shot, I felt better prepared for the unknown, now that I knew the basics of hitting a target. My best aim had been when I was visualizing Cadillac Man in place of the silhouette.

No amount of self-defense or shooting lessons were going to make me feel entirely safe and ready to take on Richard Lux and Cadillac Man, however. I thought back to when I took an archery course for the fun of it. My ex best friend, Emily, had gone on about how much fun it was for weeks until I finally caved and signed up, surprised when I actually enjoyed it.

At the time, archery was just a fun thing to learn how to do. It had nothing to do with protecting myself. Yet there I was, six years later, running the idea through my mind of taking out the bad guys with a bow and arrow, if need be. My thoughts after that were useless - mental images of sling-shotting rocks at people and hiding behind trees, vehicles, whatever I could find to shelter myself. Where was a box of hand grenades when you needed them? That would've come in handy when the Cadillac was trailing us.

I groaned, rubbing my temples with my fingertips as I looked out the bullet-battered windshield. Joey's side mirror was the only mirror left. The others had been shot off. I stared at one of the holes in the windshield, an eerie feeling flooding through me when I realized just how close they'd come to their goal of eliminating us. I was thanking my lucky stars that Joey was a quick-thinker and so good at maneuvering us out of harm's way. Imagining what could have happened if he hadn't saved our asses sent shivers down my spine in the worst way.

"What did they say?" My voice sounded frail and shaky.

After Joey had answered my phone, there had been no conversation. The caller had said something to him that I couldn't hear, hanging up a few seconds later.

Several minutes had passed and Joey hadn't uttered a word to me about the call. I'd been trying to avoid asking, knowing he was already angry enough and I didn't want to tug on his last nerve. Curiosity was getting the best of me, however, as it so often did.

By the time we reached the small town of Barre, Massachusetts, my question still hadn't received an answer. Joey's eyes had stayed fixed on the road ahead until we reached a tiny motel. He'd stopped a mile before for fast food - a sack of burritos and two much-needed coffees.

The caffeine was a nice refresher, but I wasn't too interested in eating. I still hadn't acquired an appetite.

My senses were as heightened as they could be. The longer we stayed in the stolen vehicle with very obvious bullet holes, the easier I felt it was becoming for the local authorities or Cadillac Man to spot us again. It was the equivalent of driving around with a giant bullseye on each side of the SUV. I wished invisibility or teleportation existed so I could simply disappear when the bad guys showed up again. Wishful thinking at its finest.