shield as he pointed his weapon into the weeds.
“Come out!” he barked. “Come out now!”
Bourne stood up slowly, his gun aimed across the short space of grass and concrete between them, his finger on the trigger. They confronted each other, neither one with an advantage. Jason inched down the grassy slope until his feet were on the pavement. Not even ten feet separated them.
“Cain,” the man murmured.
“That’s a name from my past,” Jason replied.
“I’m told you don’t have a past.”
The killer’s glasses glinted in the sunlight, and his lips curled into a smile. Blood poured from his ear. He crushed his arm around Abbey’s neck, and her legs kicked wildly as he lifted her off the ground. With her air cut off, panic filled her eyes.
“Let her go,” Bourne said.
“Put down your gun, and I will.”
“Give me the girl, and I’ll let you leave.”
“Then we’re at an impasse,” the man replied.
Abbey’s legs flailed. Her body shunted back and forth, slamming against the killer, but he remained rooted to the ground like the trunk of a tree. He lifted her higher. A purple color flushed her cheeks.
“Stop!” Bourne shouted.
“Drop your gun. She goes free.”
“If she dies, so do you.”
“Well, she is going to die,” the killer replied.
Jason’s eyes met Abbey’s. Something changed in her expression. Her mouth opened, as if she were trying to form a word, but she couldn’t. Then Bourne understood. Abbey’s hands were still tied behind her, but he could see her fingers curled like claws, the nails long and sharp. Her body jerked against the assassin, and this time, she snapped her fingers around the man’s testicles and crushed them between her nails.
He howled in agony. As he thrashed to dislodge her, she clung to him without letting go. Still holding Abbey by the neck, the assassin cracked the barrel down against the top of her head. As soon as Jason saw the man’s gun shift away, he leaped across the space between them. The assassin tried to bring his gun back around, but Bourne locked his fingers around the man’s wrist and piled his weight against him, bringing all of them to the ground.
Unconscious, Abbey spilled to the concrete beside them.
Jason was on top, pinning the killer down. He slammed the man’s wrist against the pavement until his hand released the gun. The assassin had his own hand locked around Jason’s gun, and their arms seesawed for control. Bourne snapped his forehead against the man’s nose, breaking it in a mass of blood, but the killer didn’t relent. The Renault was right next to them, and Jason rolled, throwing the man sideways and slamming his head into the steel frame of the sedan.
The blow dizzied the man. His grip on Jason’s gun hand loosened. Bourne shoved the barrel into the killer’s temple and squeezed the trigger. The shot was like a cannon in his ears. Bone, blood, and brain flew. Deadweight, the assassin collapsed on top of him, and Jason shoved away the body and tried to get air into his chest again.
Then his head turned sideways.
Abbey Laurent had disappeared.
Go after her! You can’t let her go!
Bourne staggered to his feet. Just beyond the Renault, Abbey limped away, zigzagging, too dizzy to make a straight path. Her hands were still tied behind her. He marched toward her, and when she looked back, she tried to run. But she couldn’t. She swayed and fell, and her eyes leached tears as he loomed over her. She struggled to fight him, but her kicks were weak. Jason picked her up under the shoulders and carried her to the Renault, and then he opened the back door and laid her across the seat.
She stared at him with wide-open brown eyes that struggled to focus.
“Are you going to run?” he asked. “If I were you, I’d try to run.”
She didn’t answer.
“I’m going to tie your legs, just to be sure,” he said. “I’m sorry, but I can’t let you go right now. We need to talk, and we can’t talk here. I’m going to get us out of town.”
He slid off his belt and wrapped it around her ankles. She didn’t resist as he tied them together.
“Did he hurt you in any other way?” Jason asked. “Do you need medical help?”
Abbey simply watched him with a blank expression. Her face was oddly calm.
“I’m not going to kill you,” he added.
Still she said nothing. Her skin was pale. Her red bangs hung in messy strands across her forehead. Her eyes followed everything