You all had some fabulous ideas last week! I sort of took bits from all of you and incorporated them into this week’s story. Some of them will come out later in the story… they were too good not to use! Click here if you missed Week One: The Arrival. Here we go ~
Week Two: The Passenger
Hannah slammed the car into low, wincing at the grind the engine made. It sputtered, but kept running. At least that was a good sign.
The motorcyclist slowed to keep pace with her, but had to swerve around a mini-van. Hannah punched the gas and slipped the car into drive, feeling the rev of the engine beneath her feet. With barely a glance she sliced against two lanes of traffic. Horns blared, but she ignored them. Just one more lane and she could exit the freeway. Another quick look at the cyclist and she breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn’t expected evasive maneuvers on her part.
A jag of pain shot down her right arm. Another honk and she was hurtling off the freeway, the motorcyclist too far ahead to follow.
“You’re hurt.” Ethan’s words came close beside her. His thick brogue made something soft curl in her belly. “Hold still.”
“Mr. Carmichael, please. I need you to stay in your seat, safely belted in.” She yanked the car into a hard right, suppressing a grin when Ethan braced against the seat. Another right followed by a left and she eased into the flow of traffic.
He placed a hand on her shoulder, steadying her. A thrumming warmth spread over and down her arm, culminating in a sharp prick. She sucked in her breath to keep from swearing. It wouldn’t do to get written up. Again.
“That’s better.” Ethan held a jagged piece of mirror, it’s tip a watery shade of crimson. “Do you have a first aid kit? I could stitch this while you drive.”
“I’m sure you could, but really I’d prefer it if you’d sit back and buckle up. I’m sure our friend is looking for us.” She eyed him in the broken mirror. Tiny frown lines pinched his forehead. Dark brows framed his hazel eyes. “Can you think of any reason why someone would want you dead?”
She didn’t doubt it. She had read the dossier, knew that Ethan Carmichael was brought in on special assignment for The Company. Something to do with the governor, but Hannah wasn’t cleared for that knowledge.
Ethan settled against the seat, once more buckling his belt. He placed a hand possessively atop the garment bag. For the second time that morning, Hannah felt a strange burning deep in her sternum. Not a pleasant feeling.
A moment before she saw the motorcyclist she heard him. Ethan glanced out the window at the same time Hannah jerked the car to the left into a narrow side street. She gunned the engine and raced toward a dead end.
“Miss James? You’re running out of road.”
“Hold onto something, and whatever you do, don’t get out of this car.” Hannah looked pointedly at the garment bag beside him. “Understood?”
His features set into a grim line, but he nodded. “What are you going to do?”
“End this.” The rev of engine behind them alerted her to the motorcyclist’s proximity. “Get down, Mr. Carmichael.”
Ethan bent low over the bundle on the seat. The cyclist raised his gun and Hannah counted to three before she slammed on the brakes. A whimper came from the back seat and Hannah cast a quick glance over her shoulder making sure Ethan was secure before she yanked on the steering wheel.
The car spun around and clipped the front wheel of the motorcycle, sending bike and rider sliding. Hannah was halfway out the door before the car stopped its spin. She caught the cyclist mid-crouch, landing a kick to his ribs. A decidedly feminine grunt came from behind the dark helmet, followed by several swear words in as many languages.
The leather-clad biker sprang up, fists a haze of motion. Hannah was ready for the attack. A quick block, several jabs, and a knee to the groin followed by a roundhouse kick brought the biker down.
In an instant Ethan was there, kneeling on the biker’s back, limp hands held in his own. “Well done, Miss James.” There was a hint of humor behind his accent.
“I thought I told you to stay in the car.”
Ethan’s look made her knees feel as creamy as honey on toast. “I rarely do as told.”
He pushed the helmet off their mysterious biker, revealing a shock of red hair. Hannah knelt in front of the woman, studying her features. “I don’t recognize her, do you?”
After securing her ankles with the same plastic binders he used on her wrists, Ethan lifted the biker over his shoulder. “When she comes to, we’ll get our answers.” Without waiting for a reply, he took the biker to the car and placed her in the front seat.
Suspicious thoughts tickled Hannah’s mind. Traitorous, even. She grabbed the helmet and strode to the motorcycle, looking for anything that might give her an idea of who the woman was. She tugged the keys from the ignition, two keys and a fob with an elaborate design, Celitc maybe. She pocketed the keys and picked a small piece of paper out from beneath the seat. There was gibberish scrawled over the paper. Letters and numbers that made no sense to her. She added the paper to her pocket before joining Ethan at the car.
Despite the large dent in the front bumper, the engine started up on the first try.
Ethan leaned back against the seat, looking relaxed in his grey suit. Once again she wondered what the dossier had failed to mention about her passenger. Her glance went to the bag at his side.
“This might be a good time for you to tell me who you really are, and about our other passenger.”
Now it’s your turn! We had some great ideas of who you thought the passenger was last week (a space alien, a child with special powers), are there any other ideas for who he/she/it is? What about the assassin? Who sent her and why? Is Hannah good or bad? What about Ethan? Is he a rogue operative or someone caught in a bad situation? Let’s have more fun next week!