Every Last Breath
By: Juno Rushdan
Publication Date:
4/30/2019
48 hours
2 covert operatives
1 chance to get it
right
Maddox Kinkade is an
expert at managing the impossible. Tasked with neutralizing a lethal bioweapon,
she turns to the one person capable of helping her stop the threat of pandemic
in time: the love of her life, back from the dead and mad as hell at her supposed
betrayal. Recruiting Cole to save millions of lives may be harder than
resisting the attraction still burning between them, but Maddox will do
whatever it takes...even if it destroys her.
When Maddox crashes
back into Cole Matthews' life, he wants to fight back. He wants to hate her.
But the crisis is too strong to ignore, and soon the two former lovers find
themselves working side-by-side in a breakneck race to stop a world-class
killer with a secret that could end everything.
The clock is ticking.
Every Last Breath
Nothing to Fear
(coming August 2019)
Until the End (coming
early 2020)
Purchase Links:
Amazon: https://amzn.to/2SCe9qr
Indiebound: http://bit.ly/2GvApvO
Author
Website: https://junorushdan.com/
F STREET, WASHINGTON, DC
12:21 P.M. EDT
No thought of how far he’d have to run, how
long he had to push, Cole held a singular focus: catch the Ghost.
To keep Maddox safe, he had to reach the devil
first.
Extending his stride in a flat--out sprint,
Cole gave it everything. His shoulder hurt like hell.
He was gaining on him. Less than thirty feet,
chipping away at the distance with every hot lungful.
Just ahead was the Gallery Place Metro—-one of
the busiest stations in DC. A throng of passengers streamed in and out of the
cavernous entrance. The Ghost wove between people, darting to the left then
right, flowing like a stream of water around stones.
Don’t lose
him. Stay close. Almost there.
Cole knocked a man out of the way and slipped
through a narrow opening in the pedestrian herd. The entrance cleared ahead,
and there was Novak.
The Ghost zipped past the station agent,
Metrorail vending machines, and vaulted over the turnstile in one fluid motion.
Steamrolling forward into the musty air and
under the fluorescent lights of the station, Cole hopped the turnstile.
Maddox’s pounding footsteps weren’t far
behind.
Cole cut to the east side of the Metro
station, keeping sight of the Ghost. Escalators to the trains on the lower
level were around a corner. Hopefully, passengers lining the moving staircase
would slow Novak down.
What if he deployed the weapon in the station
or on the Metrorail? The virus would spread fast with no way to contain it.
Novak hesitated at the escalators and snapped
a glimpse over his shoulder, not looking the least bit winded. Their eyes met,
and that freakish smile hitched up Novak’s mouth. In a flash, he whirled,
facing the escalator.
Then he jumped onto the wide metal panel
running between the escalators and slid down.
Shit!
Breathless, Cole reached the escalator and
peered over the side. Down a long, steep descent running several stories below
ground. Really fucking long and very steep.
Sonofabitch. Novak had no limits and kept pushing the
line. Cole hated heights, but that lunatic was getting away, and Maddox was
closing in. No time. No time to think.
He vaulted onto the steel divider flanked by
the two escalators.
“Dude, you’re crazy,” quipped a teenage kid
getting off.
It felt a hell of a lot crazier than it
looked. With the constraints of the narrow panel, Cole was forced to roll onto
his side as
Novak had done. Maddox’s pounding footsteps
drew closer. Not giving himself a chance to chicken out, he let go and gravity
took him.
In a lightning rush, he zipped down cool,
smooth steel feetfirst.
“Cole!” Maddox’s voice echoed overhead.
His jackhammering heart blasted into his
throat, followed by his stomach. He slid down the tight divider like a slick
stone.
The faces of gawking onlookers were a blur. He
braced, leaning back against the steep, eighty--foot decline. He almost
swallowed his tongue.
To control his breathless descent, he thrust
his forearms out to the sides.
Bad idea.
His sleeves dragged against the rubber
handrails, the friction turning his quicksilver slide into a jerky ride. He
feared flipping over the side onto the steel teeth of an escalator.
Weightless, helpless, he drew his arms in
close to his body.
Not every Metro in DC had bumpers. The
puck--sized discs didn’t stop a fall, only turned a person into tenderized meat
by the time they reached the bottom. He was grateful not to face any here.
The ground below was a desperate hope rushing
toward him, coming at him fast. But it was the longest eight seconds of his
life.
Wild exhilaration wrestled with fear.
Fear was better.
It’d keep him sharp and hungry. Keep him
alive.
Novak reached the bottom and glanced up at
Cole before disappearing in the direction of the Red line.
Swooshing off the metal panel, Cole’s feet
stumbled finding the floor. The electric surge rising in him was akin to being
born again. He fell to one knee and sprang forward, following the trail of
twisting heads and necks craned over shoulders.
The corridor spilled onto the westbound
platform. People stood shoulder to shoulder. Jam--packed with kids, from teens
to middle-schoolers, in a patchwork of yellow, green, light--blue, and red
T--shirts.
Damn it. Summer camp field trips.
Across the tracks, the eastbound side was
worse. He glanced at the inbound train sign overhead—-three minutes ETA.
Three minutes before the Ghost could be lost
in the wind.
Dim lighting in the concave tunnel turned
needle--in--a--haystack into finding a needle in a pine forest, at night. Red
LED lights lined the bumpy tiles along the edge of the platform but did nothing
to brighten the landscape. Chest heaving, he slowed his breathing while
scanning for a dark ball cap, black backpack. Anyone in long sleeves.
He shouldered past people, weaving around a
huddle of kids and chaperones in light blue T--shirts that read Ride the Summer Wave. Every ten steps,
he checked his rear, ensuring he hadn’t missed the Ghost, somehow overlooked
him in the sea of passengers.
Maddox made it down, rushing onto the
eastbound side across the tracks. She scoured the platform.
Cole pressed forward. Most bodies stayed
stationary or paced one to two feet within a localized space. He caught
glimpses of one person with a blue ball cap and backpack. Drifting slowly.
Snaking around shifting figures. Cole bulldozed his way to the thin male.
Metallic bitterness coated his tongue. He
clasped a hand on the man’s shoulder and wrenched him around.
A wide--eyed young man with olive--toned skin
stared back. “Hey, buddy, what’s your problem?”
“Sorry.” Cole raised his palms and backed off.
Red LED lights across the tracks on Maddox’s
side flashed. A train was coming.
Two minutes until his westbound train arrived.
He stepped up his pace through the milling flock of people, wiping his sweaty
palms on his jeans. His sixth sense, the electric worm, carved a wriggling path
from his skull down his spine, fizzing and spitting sparks across his nerve
endings.
The rumble of the eastbound train resounded.
Cole glanced back to see lights and Maddox peering down the tunnel at the
inbound train. Dread churned his gut.
He faced forward and caught the Ghost’s steely
gaze at the other end of the same platform. No baseball cap. The maniacal grin
on full display. A moment. Less. A millisecond. Cole pushed toward him,
storming through the gaggle of day campers.
Novak made his move. A bloodcurdling scream
rent the air as the Ghost leapt off the platform, arm locked around a woman,
hauling her over the side along with him. He let go of her and dashed across
the westbound tracks, avoiding the electrified third rail.
Bounding over a strip of lighting in the
middle, Novak rushed across the eastbound tracks. He jumped, pressing his hands
onto the platform, and lifted his body with the fluidity of a gymnast. The
flat--faced train whizzed into the station on the opposite side, concealing
Maddox and the Ghost from sight.
Red lights flashed on Cole’s platform. He ran
to help the fallen woman. Elbowing anyone in his way, he rushed to the far end.
The eastbound train on the other side stopped
and the doors opened.
Cole swept paralyzed gawkers to the side and
reached down to the plump woman in the light yellow T--shirt, Pirates and Princesses Summer Camp
written across the front. Out of his peripheral vision, cowering children
shrieked and whimpered.
“Come on.” He beckoned to the stunned woman
clambering to her feet. “Take my hand.”
Chimes dinged from the train across the way,
and his skin prickled. Doors were about to close.
“Let’s go, lady,” he snapped at her, trying to
get her moving.
Lights of the approaching westbound train on
his side did the trick.
A horn blared, kicking the woman into action,
hustling to the platform. She grabbed both his hands and he held tight to her
forearms and heaved. Thankfully, she was lighter than she looked, but his back
still protested. A black kid in his late teens, with headphones on, helped him
tug her the rest of the way up onto the platform.
“You okay?” Cole asked.
She nodded, and tears streaked down her
cheeks. Covering her face with her hands, she broke into sobs. Yellow T—shirts
gathered around her, and Cole shot to his feet.
The train on the other side pulled out. The
steel cars vanished down the dark tunnel. He swept a frantic gaze over the
platform.
Empty.
Cole’s blood drained from his head as a hot
ball of panic burned a hole in his gut.
Maddox
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