Allison Brennan - Stalked

He saw Alexis emerge from the shop and look both ways before she saw them. She picked up speed in the alley.

Sean waited until he and Peter turned the corner from the alley to the street, then said, “Faster.”

Sean had pre-purchased two MetroCards when he and Lucy were in New York on Saturday. He hadn’t thought they’d need them but didn’t like to go unprepared. He was glad he had them now.

He rounded the corner and they rushed down the steps to the 95th Street subway station. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a church and considered detouring there but dismissed it-he didn’t know the layout, and considering it was near dark, the church might be locked. Sean didn’t see Alexis, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t there or that she might not assume they went to the subway.

“Is there another entrance to the subway?”

“Yes.”

Either they could exit from the other side or Alexis could come down the other entrance and trap them. In fact, if both Alexis and Kip were trailing them, they could be boxed in. Damn, he shouldn’t have come down here!

“Stay close.”

Sean glanced at the subway map. They were at the end of the R Line.

He said, “We’re taking the first train and getting off at the next stop.”

“How did they find me?” Peter asked. “Did they follow you?” He didn’t seem hostile, but there was an accusatory tone.

“They’ve been tracking you. Have been since March.”

Peter shook his head, but his eyes told Sean he believed him. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” He moved Peter to behind a pillar. Sean could see one of the main staircases, and the other was partly in view.

“I think I knew,” he said quietly.

Sean sent Lucy and Noah a quick text message.

At 95th St. Subway, Brook. Have PM. ATS pursuing.

“A couple of times I thought someone was watching me,” Peter continued, “but I’d been hiding for so long I didn’t trust my instincts anymore. Do they know where I live?”

“Assume they do. No one followed me.”

“Charlie told you everything?”

“I needed to know what you faced in Syracuse, why you changed your name.”

“I don’t understand why these people are coming after me.”

“You and me both.” Sean heard a train coming far down the tunnel. He didn’t see Alexis or Kip on the stairs. There were only two people waiting, together, for the train. It was a quiet Monday night.

“Get ready,” he whispered. “Follow my orders.”

The train was closer, ten seconds or less. Peter took a step toward the platform and Sean grabbed his arm. “Stay.”

“FBI! Don’t move!”

It was a female voice. Peter looked perplexed and turned to look toward the voice.

“No,” Sean said, but it was too late.

Alexis was running down the stairs, gun drawn.

“FBI! Everyone down.”

Shit.

The train was pulling fast into the station. Alexis glanced at it, and Sean pictured the attack against Theissen at the subway station in Queens. Was she planning on using the train as a diversion or a weapon?

Sean stayed behind the pillar, gun drawn.

“You said the FBI was helping,” Peter said.

“She’s not FBI,” Sean told him.

Peter looked around the pillar. “Cami,” he whispered.

“Peter,” Alexis said. “Come to me. I’m here to help you.”

“Don’t,” Sean said. He squeezed Peter’s arm. “You can’t trust her.”

Alexis shouted out, “Peter! We have to hurry or it’ll be too late. Please, trust me.”

“Remember what Charlie found,” Sean said. He didn’t know what Alexis’s game was, but she’d most likely killed Tony Presidio and put Hans in a coma. “She lied to you. She killed an FBI agent.”

The train stopped at the platform. Several people got off. Alexis moved toward Sean and Peter. She didn’t seem concerned about her own safety. Sean couldn’t risk hitting an innocent bystander by firing in the station. He glanced toward the train. The warning to clear the doors alerted them that the train was about to depart.

Sean said, “Now!” He grabbed Peter and propelled him toward the open door.

“Peter!” Alexis shouted.

Sean heard gunfire and a searing bolt of pain shot up his calf. He rolled into the car; Peter stumbled and hit his head on the pole.

“Stay down!” Sean shouted.

Sean pushed back the pain and trained his gun toward the closing door. He saw Alexis’s stunned expression. Then she raised the gun to fire again, aiming at Sean, not Peter. Two teenagers ran behind Alexis toward the exit, preventing Sean from having a clear shot.

Sean rolled away from the door as Alexis fired again. The bullet hit the side of the train as the doors closed.

No one else was in the car. Peter lay on the floor, unmoving.

“Are you hurt?” Sean asked.

Peter didn’t say anything.

“Peter! Are you injured? Dammit, were you hit?” Sean crawled toward him.

“I’m okay,” he said, voice cracking. Shock.

“Are you sure?” Sean looked for visible signs of injury. Peter had a bump on his forehead from hitting the pole. Other than that, he was fine.

Sean waited until they were in the tunnel before he examined his own wound.

“You’re bleeding,” Peter said.

Sean took out his pocketknife and cut off his jeans at the knee. The bullet had gone through the muscle in his calf, straight through. Not serious, but he needed to stop the bleeding.

He cut the jean scrap into strips and tied one as a tourniquet right below his knee. Then he took off his T-shirt and tied it tight around the open wound.

This wasn’t the first time he’d been shot, nor would it be the worst, but damn, it hurt like hell. He pulled out his cell phone. No signal. He typed in a message to send as soon as he had one bar.

PM and I are on R train, will exit at Whitehall. Please meet there with first-aid kit.

“Peter, listen to me. Alexis Sanchez is not an FBI agent. She was at the FBI Academy for the past four weeks in training. Why, I have no idea. It may have been to collect information, or to target someone. She may have killed a federal agent, tried to kill another. Her sister was Camille Todd, who was kidnapped and murdered around the same time as your sister. I don’t have all the answers, but if she has the chance, she will kill you.”

Noah had been on the phone for the last ten minutes while driving to the Whitehall subway station in lower Manhattan, talking with NYPD and the FBI to determine what went on at the 95th Street subway stop. Police were already on the scene and Alexis Sanchez was gone. Suzanne and Detective DeLucca were getting a copy of the security tapes and Lucy hoped they provided some answers. She had a lot of questions.

Sean didn’t say who’d been shot, but Lucy knew it was Sean. If it was Peter, Sean would have told her to call an ambulance.

As soon as they arrived, Noah flashed his badge at the cashier and he and Lucy were let through the kiosk. They ran down the stairs while Lucy dialed Sean. “We’re here,” she said.

“I have Peter under the sign on the west side of the station.”

“West side,” Lucy said to Noah.

“I see him.”

Sean was sitting bare-chested on a bench, his bloody leg out in front of him. He had a hand on Peter, who looked like he wanted to bolt.

“It’s not serious,” Sean said by way of greeting. “Just grazed.”

By the amount of blood, it wasn’t just a graze.

“Lucy, escort Mr. McMahon to the car; I’ll assist Rogan.”

“I can walk,” Sean said, standing. He hobbled toward the elevator.

“Manning,” Peter said. “I legally changed my name to Gray Manning. But I guess you can call me Peter.”