C.J. Miller - Taken by the Con

She and Cash returned to her vehicle. They got in and she turned the key. The eerie sensation of being watched wouldn’t subside.

The car didn’t start. She paused a moment and heard the sound of the battery whining. “Get out of the car! Run!” she yelled.

Lucia opened the driver’s-side door and rolled, covering her face and head. Car horns blared at her and she narrowly avoided being struck by oncoming traffic. Cash had heeded her warning and was standing on the street looking at her strangely. Maybe the car was old and needed a new ignition. Maybe the engine needed a tune-up. Maybe that first faulty turn was driver error.

Then Cash was next to her, lifting her to her feet. “Lucia, what is—”

The car exploded, the boom echoing against the tall buildings around her, a blast of heat hitting them and knocking them to the ground. Heat burned up Lucia’s side. Cash covered her, shielding her. Something hit her leg hard enough to send pain radiating up her body.

Lucia had been in the line of fire before, but she hadn’t experienced the impersonal coldness of an assassination attempt. Her follow-up thought was just as terrifying. It hadn’t blown the first or second time she had started the car that day. Either someone had put the bomb in the car while she had been on the sidewalk talking to Cash or someone had been watching her and waiting to detonate the bomb. Either way, a killer was close.

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