Mari Mancusi - Scorched

But now it was too late.

A scream echoed through the hallway. Her scream—coming from right around the corner. He skittered to a stop, swinging a hard right into the sea-life installation. Ducking behind a giant turtle fossil, he located Trinity, in the grip of a burly man dressed in black. She was still clutching the egg with white-knuckled fingers as the man pressed a pistol to her temple.

“Let me go!” she screamed, fighting him with all her might. But the man outweighed her by at least a hundred pounds and, by the looks of it, had a killer grip.

“I’ve got some girl,” he reported into a black metal device attached to his shoulder. “She was trying to escape with the egg.”

“Don’t let her go,” a voice crackled over the airwaves. “I’ll be right there.”

Connor froze, his heart in his throat. That voice. He’d recognize it anywhere. As if it were his own. But that was impossible. There was no way he could be here. Unless…

Oh God. Had the Dracken come after the egg too?

He’d have to figure it out later. Right now, all that mattered was freeing Trinity and retrieving the egg—before either the government or the Dracken showed up. Forcing his hands to stay steady, he attempted to line up his target. But Trinity was in the way—a human shield—and he couldn’t find a clear shot. And if he cried out to her, he’d give his position away.

Could he send to her? While he couldn’t direct her thoughts thanks to his current lack of spark, he could probably muster up a helpful suggestion or two and pray she thought it was a good idea.

He squared his shoulders. It was a weak plan, at best. But he had no other options. And he was running out of time. Squeezing his eyes shut, he lobbed a command as hard as he could in her general direction, praying she’d hear and obey.

Duck! Now!

He opened his eyes and focused back on her. Her gaze darted around the room, as if trying to locate something. Someone. Had she heard him? Would she understand what he needed her to do? Would she obey his order even if she did?

Trust me , he tried. It’s the only way to save you now.

She heard him that time—he saw it in her eyes—giving him an almost imperceptible nod before purposely shifting her weight, slumping to the ground, and catching her captor off guard. As the man struggled to retain his grip, Connor made his shot. The laser from his pistol sang true and a moment later the man’s head exploded in a burst of green plasma. The egg fell from Trinity’s grasp and started rolling across the room.

Good girl , he sent with a grin. It was the first thing that had gone right all day.

Diving for the egg, Connor locked it into his arms before turning to Trinity, who was staring at the now-headless man, mouth gaping. “Come on,” he commanded, shifting the egg and offering his free hand to help her to her feet. “We have to go. Now!”

She hesitated at first, then reached up, her fingers brushing his, connecting the two of them for the first time and sending a shock straight to his core.

For a moment, time stopped—simply stopped—and all he could feel was her. Pure, unbridled emotion. White hot fury warring with icy cold fear. It was all he could do not to jerk his hand away.

“It really is you,” he whispered, fascination mixing with horror.

She was as powerful as the legends had said. Maybe even more so. All that raw energy, that spark burning inside of her. To bind that to a dragon…Connor shuddered.

Thank fleck he’d gotten to her first.

Outside the museum, Trinity turned to her rescuer, adrenaline pumping wildly through her veins. “Thank you,” she whispered, her fingers fluttering involuntarily to her neck, where she could still feel the burning of her captor’s rough hand. She had been so sure she was dead—that he’d pull the trigger and it would all be over in a flash of light. Until this stranger had charged in and saved the day—like a caped crusader with a Star Trek gun. “I’m sorry I Maced you,” she added guiltily. “I just thought—”

“Come on,” Connor interrupted, glancing at the door they’d exited from. Under the glow of the streetlights, she caught a ghost of fear flicker across his otherwise impassive face. “We need to keep moving.”

She hesitated, her feet feeling glued to the pavement. Should she follow him? He’d saved her life. But could she trust him? Or was he just another one of the thieves after the egg? Of course, he already had the egg. If that was all he was after, he would have already left her to fend for herself.

“Come on!” he repeated, his voice rasping with urgency. “I can’t fight them all at once!”

And she couldn’t let him just take off with her grandpa’s egg. “Okay,” she declared, making up her mind. “Let’s get out of here.”

Connor turned and ran, the egg cradled under his arm like a football, gun holstered to his side. As she followed, sprinting down the street alongside the museum, she could hear the emergency door bang open again, men’s voices cutting into the night air.

“Don’t let her get away!”

Dashing down the street, dodging trashcans and debris, Connor was quick and nimble as he spun a quick left, then right, passing the local Arby’s before turning into an empty parking lot. Trin did her best to follow, trying to ignore the shouting and banging behind her—the sounds of their pursuers gaining ground. Her heart sped up, spiking her adrenaline as her feet pounded the pavement—one by one by one. As she turned the corner, she nearly plowed into her rescuer, who had, for some reason, stopped short. She opened her mouth to beg him to keep going, then realized he couldn’t.

The parking lot dead-ended at a tall, barbed-wire fence.

Trin looked up at the chain links, nerves tensing. Long ropes of barbed wire gleamed back with sharp-toothed smiles. She glanced around the parking lot, desperate for an alternate escape route, but came up blank. There was no alternative.

Gesturing to Connor, she dove toward the fence, ripping off her jacket on approach.

“What are you doing?” he demanded.

She gave him a grim look. “Up and over. It’s the only way.” She shoved a toe into the chain link and prepared to throw her jacket over the top while trying to ignore her rising fear. She hated heights. But she hated the idea of being shot in the back even more.

“Wait.”

Frustrated, she turned back around. “We don’t have time to—” she started, but trailed off as she caught Connor pulling a small silver disc from his bag and placing it on the ground. Once it was secure, he looked up at her.

“Use the Bouncer,” he instructed.

She stared down at the device, perplexed. “Wait, what—?”

“Just step on it!”

“Um, okay…” Confused, she tentatively pressed a foot against the disc—the Bouncer—whatever it was—no idea what it was supposed to do. No sooner did her foot connect than she literally bounced—impossibly high into the air—clearing the top of the fence by at least a foot. It was like something out of Fields of Fantasy —impossible in real life.

For a split second, she seemed to hang, motionless in thin air. Then gravity wrestled back control, sending her crashing down onto the ground, unfortunately still on the wrong side of the fence. She stared down at the Bouncer, then up at Connor. The voices in the alley grew louder. They were running out of time.

Connor yanked her to her feet. “When you’re in the air, jump forward,” he instructed. “So you’ll land on the other side.”

She nodded, forcing her gazillion questions back while clenching her jaw and stepping hard on the disc. Once again her body shot upward, this time giving her at least a two-foot clearance.