Tara stomped the brakes of the SUV. Nolan’s seatbelt snapped tight as the antilock brakes whined. He braced himself on the dashboard with one hand and grabbed the stock of his Beretta with the other.

The gun never left his belt, but Nolan twisted in his seat to gape at Tara.

Tara peered through the windshield into the night. “Nolan, I can't do this.”

“Tara,” Nolan said carefully, “what are you talking about?”

“Look. I’ve not been totally honest with you.”

“Really? About which part?” Nolan was getting upset and knew he should keep his mouth shut, but his blood was up. And he needed time to think. “About being an FBI agent? Or having crazy gunshot repair technology. Or maybe about being able to hip throw a two hundred and thirty pound man from a prone position? Tara, what have you been honest about?”

“You’re smart, Nolan. Smarter than I gave you credit for at first. But there are forces at play here—things you don’t understand. Things that could destroy you. Nikki’s death wasn’t random, and it wasn’t some cult killing. But if you keep chasing answers, you will meet the same fate. I can’t protect you from everything.”

Nolan wanted to pop off. He didn’t need protection. Hadn’t for a long time. Pieces started clicking together in his mind and his hot anger puffed away. “You are a part of it.” Calm washed over him and ice filled his veins. “Whatever the Genesis Strain is. You are in on it. Or you were.”

Tara didn’t answer, but Nolan noted her hand move from the steering wheel to her thigh. Very close to her seatbelt latch. Seatbelt. It was another tell. He’d never known a G-man to wear a seatbelt. That slowed egress from your vehicle.

“Now you are what? On the lam from whoever is behind this?” Nolan held her gaze. Even as her hand slipped toward her seatbelt, his slipped behind his back.

Tara softened her stare and said, “Do you know why Nikki kept her research a secret from you? She was protecting you. And if you care about her memory, you’ll let this go. Some truths aren’t worth knowing.”

“But are worth getting killed for?” Nolan shook his head slowly.

“Nolan, I don’t know what happened to Nikki, but I want to find out as badly as you.” Tara turned toward Nolan in her seat. “These people she was mixed up with are monsters.”

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“And what are you?” Nolan waited for a reply, but Tara gave none. “You had my file long before Nikki was killed. Were you hoping to activate me, like some sleeper cell? Wind me up and turn me loose on the bad guys? Was that your plan?”

Nolan saw the subtle shift in Tara’s demeanor and sprung into action.

With the hand behind his back, he flicked open the door handle and pushed himself out of the vehicle. He drew his Beretta and trained it steadily on Tara.

She froze. Her hand hovering above the seatbelt latch and her body coiled to lunge at him.

“You should be careful what you wish for.” Nolan took a step back and assumed a two-handed shooters pose. “I don’t know who you are or what you are after, Tara. And I can’t work with someone I can’t trust.

Fire erupted from the Beretta as Nolan put a 9mm in each passenger tire.

He heard Tara cursing and yelling his name as he cleared a barbed wire fence and sprinted across an open field.

----------------------------------------

Nolan splashed through the shallow creek and crouched as he climbed the small embankment behind the two-story garage where he worked and lived. He knew this would be the first place someone would look for him, and he counted on them thinking he wasn’t stupid enough to come back here. It was stupid to do so, but he was desperate and running out of resources.

When he was sure the coast was clear, Nolan punched in the code on the keypad on his side door and stepped inside his back office. He closed his eyes to let them adjust to the darkness. Flipping on lights, or even activating a flashlight, would draw a crowd for sure.

After a few seconds, he slipped out of his office and into the double-bay repair garage in the front. Nolan frowned. The place was in disarray. A stack of oil filters lay spilled across the floor. Various tools and supplies were all over the floor.

Nolan sighed, but continued to the ladder leading down under the oil change bay to his left. At the back of the bay, he grabbed an 11/16ths socket from a toolbox. In the back of the bay, there was an empty metal shelf. Someone had raked Chilton’s manuals and air filter boxes from the shelf. Nolan no longer felt bad about breaking Sheriff Campbell’s handcuffs.

A plate on one shelf on the back wall slid open with effort, and Nolan put the socket on a thick metal nut in the wall. He worked the socket a few times until he heard a click. Then he spun the wall ninety degrees to reveal a secret room.

This room was intended for oil storage years ago. Back then, you would fill a 55-gallon drum and then dump it in the middle of a field somewhere. Nolan found a better use for the space.

Nolan spun the lock on his Zanotti Armor wall safe with practiced ease. He pulled the lock and the thick metal door opened with a muted click. Glancing over the contents, he pulled three pre-paid Visa cards from an envelope in one of the pockets just inside the safe. Something wasn’t right about his safe, but his mind hadn’t finished processing the quick inventory he had done. He moved on to a pistol in a soft ankle holster. The Beretta 84fs made an excellent backup weapon. There were two clips of .380 ACP behind the weapon. He slid those into his back jeans pocket.

Two 9mm clips for his 92fs joined the others as Nolan’s eyes scanned the safe. A thin go-bag was squeezed into one of the rifle slots. As he bent to pick it up, his mind finally solved the riddle of his uneasy feeling. The unmistakable clink of the bolt release on a Beretta 1301 tactical shotgun told him what was missing from his safe.