The Cardinal Bird - Book 1: Reverse Harem Series (The Cardinal Series) Read online

  Deeper down the rabbit hole, then.

  I crawled forward as silent as I could be while shuffling with my injured arm cradled to my chest. I was starting to feel the sting of dozens of cuts and burns from the explosion. Not only that, but my uninjured shoulder was riddled like a voodoo doll pin cushion, full of splinters.

  More shots rang out from behind me, and I had to assume that he'd reloaded since most government-issued weapons had a capacity of less than twenty. That he had extra ammo to reload was bad news. However, his erratic shooting was a bit of a silver lining because it meant that he had lost sight of me.

  I weighed my options again. He would see me if he came to the tree line, but if I moved now, I might draw his attention...and there was no guarantee I would be able to climb a tree in my current condition.

  "YOU'LL BE SORRY, LITTLE GIRL!" Agent Grinley screamed, letting off more rounds. Under all of that fury, there was a hint of strain...maybe even pain, like I had injured him.

  Ya...no. He was like a shark in bloodlust. Even if I had been fortunate enough to injure him, he wouldn’t feel it in his feeding frenzy.

  I took off, crawling as quietly as I could through the underbrush, just thankful that it was thick here even as it was meticulous to move without making a sound.

  I heard crashing just off to the right of me, nearly on top of my position. My adrenaline hadn't even kicked in before he was moving past me being so loud that it both made me shake in the face of his fury and relax because I could tell he was moving farther away. It was just some random stroke of luck that he hadn't seen me.

  The opportunity was too great. I headed in the opposite direction, using his thundering through the forest to mask my own. I made it around to the front of the house before I left the cover of the trees in a broken sprint. Rocks and twigs dug into my bare feet, and my gait was awkward as I tried to keep my arm cradled to my chest.

  The black SUV was unlocked, my hands smearing blood on the handle as I tried to find purchase on the waxed surface. Finally, I was able to open the door. I felt along the steering column, looking for keys. They weren't there. Grinley probably had them in his pocket.

  I beat my head against the wheel couple of times, out of breath, frustrated, and on the verge of hysterics. Tears pricked at my eyes, but I swiped them away. I inhaled slowly. I went down into the floorboard, looking for a way to get to the wiring. It was all covered in plastics. I yanked on them, urgency seeping into my desperation.

  Grinley could be on his way back. He had to be calming down enough to rationalize that I wouldn't have been able to make it out very far in my condition.

  I punched the interior uselessly. Not only could I not pry it open with one hand, but I would be clueless about what to do if it was open anyway. I didn't know how to hotwire a car. And if I did get the car running, where could I go? I wished I could say that I knew the way back to the hospital, but I had a horrible sense of direction. I probably wouldn't even be able to find the interstate.

  It certainly hadn't helped that Petya had been driving. His erratic maneuvering had thrown off what little chance I'd had at remembering the way back.

  My eyes flew open.

  Petya had been driving. The keys could be on him.

  I looked back at the house, debating, and then bolted for it. In for a penny, in for a pound.

  I rushed inside, heading back towards the kitchen. There wasn't as much smoke as I thought there'd be. I peeked in. After the initial blast, nothing seemed to have caught fire. All four burners of the stove were still lit, going full blast, but that was it.

  There were scorch marks all over the place, but the explosion must have been too fast to catch much on fire. Maybe the dank, wetness of the house had actually saved the old woodwork.

  I went up to the stove, turned the knobs off, and killed the flames. Then I turned back to Petya's body. I was ambivalent about the situation as I crouched to the side of him away from the puddle of his blood. He had helped torture me, but I suspected there were ulterior motives I could only guess at now that he was dead. I reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone. Probably had a government tracer on it. I checked the other side. Success this time.

  Two sets of keys...a mismatch of different style keys—probably his personal keys—and then a separate ring with only a car key and a fob on it. Company vehicle then. It probably also had a tracer on it, if not more than one. The CIA car was most likely lousy in the things which meant I wouldn't be able to drive it far.

  I grabbed Petya’s wallet too. It had his license and address, and I had his house keys. Maybe he had a computer there. If I could beat the CIA when Grinley reported the car, I might be able to let CJ know where I was. At the last minute, I decided to take the phone anyway. If I was going to be in a vehicle with more LoJack than a NASA drone, then what could it hurt to have the phone? I would need to look up directions to his house.

  I ran down the hall, hearing the kitchen door slam back open.

  Grinley was back.

  I softened my footsteps, hoping that he would rummage for the keys before realizing they were gone.

  Sure enough, I had just reached the front door when I heard him curse and head in my direction.

  Not worried about being quiet, I slammed the front door behind me, instinctively ducking down and missing a spray of bullets that pierced the ancient wood.

  I'd left the car’s driver door open, so I tossed the wallet and phone into the passenger seat before me as I jumped in. I got the keys in the ignition on the first try, started it, and took off. The acceleration was so strong that it helpfully shut my door for me...a good thing since I would've had to reach over and shut it with my good arm, and it was sort of ocupado with driving.

  The wheels spun out in the gravel for a few critical seconds, long enough for Grinley make it out the front door. I let off the pedal just slightly to allow the rubber to find traction, and then I was off. I maneuvered around, tearing up turf and dirt, somewhat unaccustomed to driving something so large.

  There was the satisfying sound of grinding rocks as I steered the juggernaut back onto the driveway. More shots rang out, shattering the back window. Uselessly, I ducked down after the fact. As if that would've done anything had any of the bullets been in line with my head. As it were, they had been very close. There were three circles, in tight formation, a mere foot to the left.

  Weren't government vehicles supposed to be bulletproof?

  In the rearview mirror, I could see Grinley running after the car and yelling. He even chucked his gun at the bumper, making a dull clunk.

  I'd bet he was regretting all of that ammo he had pointlessly wasted earlier in his rage. Despite everything, I let a small smile cross my lips.

  I was glad I wouldn't have to worry about him shooting out the tires. Knowing my luck, they probably weren't the airless, puncture-resistant kind. Especially since the glass wasn't even bulletproof. Some government vehicle.

  Chapter 23

  Igave it my best try to retrace our route. Petya had taken too many backroads for me to remember, and it was after fifteen minutes of driving that I finally admitted defeat.

  I pulled over on the side of the road, surrounded by deep forest on all sides. I hadn't seen any houses in at least ten of those fifteen minutes. I used my good hand to hack into Petya’s phone, resetting it to factory to bypass the password. I loaded up directions to his house, but he lived an hour from where I had ended up. It would take too long.

  I couldn't call the police. I didn't exist and was technically on the run from the CIA. Grinley most likely would've called in with some farfetched story to suit his needs. They were probably tracking this phone and vehicle already.

  I pulled up the chat website I had met CJ on. I didn't send a message to his user name. He probably wasn't logged on. How would he know I'd escaped?

  But, he more than likely was on his computer, JJ—maybe looking for a way to free me, and I had memorized that insane IP of his when we'd been running from gunmen in Estonia. I'd thought it would be useful. Goodness knew how long it would take me to hack into Jarvis Junior without it...or if I would even be able to at all.

  I pulled open a command window, having to Google how to do what I wanted for this particular phone, but once it was open, I was in familiar territory. The TOR browser opened easily with a slight modification to the phone's programming. The TOR browser was an IP scrambling router run by thousands of volunteers all over the world. It would ensure that the CIA wouldn't be able to track what I was doing online, though the physical chip installed within the phone would still lead them right to me.

  Time was ticking.

  I typed in the randomized URL that was named with the intent to be hard to memorize as another level of protection. Luckily, I was good with numbers.

  I used the programming, along with JJ's IP address to locate CJ’s computer. When the command finished running, my breath caught in awe as my brain processed what I was seeing. I'd known CJ’s brain-child was strong and capable, but the coding coming off of it...it was built like a fortress—Alcatraz-strong—and ran a powerhouse of programs.

  I'd been cocky when I assumed that I would've been able to break in... with enough time, without the IP address.

  There was no way—not even with all the time in the world.

  As it was, even with the IP address, my options were limited. I wouldn't be able to take control of his mouse. I wouldn't be able to pull up a chat screen. All inside communications like that were definitely well-guarded.

  I thought for a second and then had my plan. I mirrored the phone's screen to CJ’s computer. It would pop up over the top of his monitor somewhere, and it would definitely grab his attention. Once I made sure the command was functioning correctly, I pulled up Petya's text messaging app.

  THIS IS CALLIE. GO TO CHAT ROOM. PHONE NOT SAFE.

  CJ would know the chat room I was talking about, and the CIA wouldn't be able to follow our movements with The Onion Router scrambling them for us. Thank goodness for the volunteers that made it possible. It wasn't the first time it had saved me, and it wouldn't be the last…well...unless the CIA showed up before I could clear the scene. Then, it would almost certainly be the last.

  I deleted the text without sending it. Then, I typed in another one of the TOR URLs that I had memorized. CJ's username was live.

  Megabyte_1: CALLIE? ARE YOU OKAY? WHERE ARE YOU?

  Byte_Syzed: NOT MUCH TIME CIA TRACING PHONE & CAR. DONT NO WHERE SIDE OF ROAD.

  Megabyte_1: WHAT? HOW ARE THEY TRACING THE PHONE? WHAT CAR? IS THERE A STREET SIGN? HOUSE NUMBER?

  Byte_Syzed: TOOK FROM PETYA PROBABLY CHIPD. SAME W CAR NO HOUSES NO SIGNS. TREES LOTS.

  Megabyte_1: WHATS THE IP FOR THE PHONE? I'LL TRACE IT

  Byte_Syzed: NO CIA GOT 15 MIN LEAD ON U.

  His text box was silent, flashing, "Megabyte_1 is typing..."

  I had the feeling that he wasn't actually typing though. He was probably asking the others what to do.

  I looked around nervously. Thankfully, no cars had passed, or they would've seen the bullet holes in the windshield. If they'd stopped to ask if I was okay, it would've been hard to explain away my appearance. I was still topless, wearing only the white sports bra. I had on the white leggings, though they had more red now than white. I had a burn across my back from the blast, dozens of cuts from the glass, splinters from the tree, bruises around my throat, and my arm dangled limply from my side. On top of all that, I had Petya's blood sprayed on my face, dirt and grime from the forest, and leaves in my hair. And what really made me look like a fright was the cut on my head from landing in the sink. It had stopped bleeding but left me covered in long lines of blood that trailed down my face like melted wax.

  I was quite a sight.

  Likewise, in addition to the bullet holes, the SUV hadn't gone unscathed. It looked like it'd gone ten rounds with a bloody meat cleaver.

  If anyone saw me, there was no way I'd be able to talk them out of calling 911.

  Finally, CJ responded, drawing my attention.

  Megabyte_1: KARL LEFT NOT LONG AGO. URGENT MESSAGE. NEVERMIND ABOUT THE IP. I TRACKED THE PHONE YOU'RE USING. WE'RE ON OUR WAY. 30 MINUTES. PROBABLY LESS. ALEKS’S DRIVING. DITCH THE PHONE. DITCH THE CAR.

  Megabyte_1: CIA IS NOT ON WAY YET THAT I CAN TELL. BUT BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY. GO INTO THE WOODS. AS FAR AS YOU CAN. HIDE.

  I bit my lip, my heart pounding at the directives. Why wasn't the CIA on the way?

  Byte_Syzed: HOW U FIND ME IF DITCH BOTH

  Megabyte_1: TRUST ME. WE'LL FIND YOU. BE SAFE.

  I pulled the back off the phone. Frustrated and unable tell what or where the trackers were, I slipped the sim card out with resignation. I stared at it in my bloody fingers for a moment, let out a deep breath, and snapped it. Without the permission of the account holder—who was now dead—it would take a warrant and time dealing with the phone company to retrieve any data—if there was any—about the browser history.

  I tossed the now useless lifeline down in the front seat with Petya's wallet.

  I took the broken pieces of the sim card with me and ditched everything else.

  I headed into the darkening forest and walked until I couldn't see the road or the SUV any longer, and then I walked some more. I walked until my feet could no longer take the pain of the rough forest floor. Then, I stopped in front of a glorious oak tree, covered in that Spanish moss Petya had told me about. It had low-hanging branches that I was able to push my chest against and haul myself up using my one arm. The Spanish moss, though pretty, nearly made me slip a couple of times with my tenuous grasp. But...I kept going until the branches started thinning out and angling more vertically, letting me know I was close to the top.

  Looking down, it was easy to tell that I wouldn't be seen from the ground. There were too many branches and leaves in the way. I could really only see the base of the tree, so unless someone walked right next to it, I would be invisible.

  Despite CJ's reassurance to trust them to find me, I decided that I would listen for them and start climbing down when they got here.

  At least, that was my plan, but as I lay my back against the branch, my legs on either side and my rump snug against the trunk, that Spanish moss that had been so troublesome before made its way back into my good graces. It was very, very comfortable, protecting and cushioning my bare skin from the gnarled bark. I even flipped over onto my stomach to ease the pain from my burnt back and stretched out like the laziest of sloths, arms and legs hanging down on either side of the branch. I turned my head to the side, nestling into the soft vegetation, smelling damp bark and vibrant forest.

  It wasn't too much later that I fell asleep.

  "Hey," a soft voice said from by my ear. The sleep left my brain like flicking a switch. I was wide-eyed and awake in a flat second as I remembered what had happened before I fell asleep.

  I went to jolt up but couldn't. I was being restrained against the branch.

  "Don't panic. I'm a good guy. Just didn't want you falling out of the tree. That would be an embarrassing rescue." I smelled sandalwood and pine, a strong, sweet smell. "We're pretty high up, you know."

  I nodded my head, unable to overpower the hand on my neck.

  "I'm going to let go of you now. You'll stay still?" the guy said.

  I nodded my head again.

  The hand was removed.

  I rolled off the opposite side of the branch, sailing right past the grasping hands of the now cursing male.

  I landed lightly on my feet about seven feet down, careful to absorb the impact low and steady as quickly as possible to avoid ripping the moss from its perch. I put my good hand down on the branch I'd landed on and propelled myself over, having already mapped out my way to the ground. I kept my center of gravity low.