Roundhouse by Russ Linton

Author:Russ Linton [Linton, Russ]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Russ Linton
Published: 2024-04-29T00:00:00+00:00

24

After two blocks, Kade had to acknowledge something important. The pain in his bruised rib was severe. And he hadn’t recovered fully from the poisoning either.

Adrenaline would mask the worst when fighting for his life. But he had difficulty calling up enough as he ran. Soles of his feet jarring against the sidewalk, lungs demanding oxygen, his ribs were shifting uncomfortably with every heartbeat, every breath.

He slowed at the steps of a church. Head back, sucking wind, he pretended to be impressed by the twin steeples — not that he wasn’t. Pinnacles with soaring crosses and slate framed by copper. Built to last centuries. Long after he was gone.

He squatted. Leaned against his thighs to take the stress off his core. Wrong move. Another stabbing jolt in his side and he shot back upright.

It was then he caught his first glimpse of another tail.

They’d been careful until now. Too quick, too far away. But she was tall, lean, and had stopped to blatantly stare before his quick adjustment caused her to dart back around the corner.

Trainees?

He chuckled then set off toward the square in the shadow of the church. Lush green grass and leaves on the trees. Somebody’s idea of winter, he supposed. He’d dial down the pace. He could jog for days in this.

Maybe he’d pulled the B-Team today. Lucky for them. As he built up a little speed again, he found ways to control his breathing, minimize the aches.

He jogged straight down Abercorn. Cut west on an alley. Behind another church, but not quite as grand. He slowed for his pursuer to make the same mistake of catching up, getting too close. But they seemed to have gotten their situational awareness back. A quick flash of movement was all he spotted as the pursuer passed up the alley.

Interesting.

When he reached the next intersection, he spotted the expansive green lawn of Forsyth Park to the south. He could double back. Keep stair-stepping. Or head for open ground.

What the hell. He wanted another look at this tail. A second wind had hit. The aches subsided. He sprinted toward the park and through the crosswalk. A car horn blared. He didn’t give so much as a look. Just feet striking the granite pavers underneath the live oaks arching above the central path.

At the fountain, he checked his nine o’clock. There they were, paralleling by the street a hundred yards out. He squinted. Made sure the way ahead was clear as he rounded the fountain. Then he locked back in on his pursuer as she disappeared in and out between the trees.

No way.

She was matching his stride, pace for pace. He didn’t want to stop and stare. Confirm his suspicions. Hair tucked away, she had on the same black leggings every female jogger seemed to wear.

Short hair? Or tucked under the ballcap? Whatever the case, she had a body the painted-on pants and sports bra were doing all kinds of favors.

“Watch it!”

He nearly bowled into a middle-aged guy trying to take a picture of a historical marker.

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