Smoke and Shadows by Victoria Paige

searing wave of heat blew her right over the hood of the oncoming vehicle. Next thing she knew, her hands scraped across concrete, sending shards of pain up her arms. Her shoulders buckled and a riptide of darkness threatened to pull her under.

    There was screaming and shouting. Marissa had not lost consciousness, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t freaking disoriented with the incessant ringing in her ears.
    What just happened?
    People were staring down at her asking her stupid questions.
    Are you okay?
    Should we take you to a hospital?
    Why did your car blow up?
    She wasn’t sure if she answered them aloud or in order: No, she wasn’t fine. Her car just exploded. And no hospital, damn it, because someone wanted her dead.
    She gripped the tire of a parked car and struggled to get up. Hands rushed to assist her, but she batted them away.
    “I’m fine,” Marissa said tersely.
    She’s in shock. One person tried to explain her ungrateful behavior.  
    “Ms. Cole!” Olsen’s familiar voice broke through the crazy chatter around her. She saw the   Guardian push through the gathering crowd. At this point, Marissa was on her feet, but she was hunched over because her entire back was in pain. Relief washed over Olsen’s face when she saw Marissa. The Guardian was on the phone. Marissa was pretty sure who was on the other end.
    “She seems to be okay,” Olsen wheezed into the phone. “Uh . . . yes, Sir, hold on.” She held out the phone to Marissa. “Mr. Baran wants to talk to you.”
    “Viktor.” Marissa tried to keep her voice steady.  
    “Are you okay?” His voice was calm, but the undercurrent of tension was enough to lodge a piece of shrapnel in her throat. She wanted to break down and cry, and have Viktor deal with this mess. So she kept quiet.
    “Iz? Answer me, damn it.”
    “I’m fine.” She seemed to be repeating herself a lot these days. Marissa limped around the car that probably took the brunt of the explosion, and stared at the fiery remains of her BMW. Sirens echoed in the distance.  
    “I’ll have Olsen bring you back here. I don’t want you out of my sight again.”
    “I have a meeting with Yeager.” She scanned the crowd. Some perpetrators were too egotistical not to enjoy their handiwork.  
    “Fuck Yeager,” Viktor whispered fiercely. “You haul your ass back here, right now.”
    “Son of a bitch—”  
    “Marissa! God fucking—”
    “It’s Ali.” A surge of adrenalin fired up her limbs as her eyes landed on the face of Yusuf Ali among the sea of spectators ogling the burning wreckage. He was staring at her in disbelief, and he was backing away from the crowd. She’d be damned before she let him slink away. “I’m going after him.”  
    She tossed the phone back to Olsen, ignoring the cursing that erupted over the line. “Feed Baran the information.”
    “Where are you—”
    Taking several tentative steps and ignoring the pain shooting through her body, Marissa heaved a deep breath and shot off after Ali.

    *****
    “You should have knocked her over the head, or better yet, tranq’d her,” Viktor yelled at Olsen. Handing Tim the phone, he ordered, “Talk to Olsen. Get their exact location and set up the grid. I want visuals on Ms. Cole ASAP.”
    “But where—” Tim called out after him.
    “I’m going in the field,” Viktor threw over his shoulder. “Send the feed to my phone and my car’s computer.”
    He jogged up the dimly lit tunnels of AGS HQ, all the while seething between panic and anger. Damn Marissa for making him feel this way. Bottom line, he didn’t trust her enough to take care of herself. He hadn’t trained her the way he did Maia. If he had known the woman was going to twist him up in knots, he wouldn’t have started a relationship with her.  
    Relationship?  
    Shit. I’m fucked.
    *****
    If there was something Marissa was good at, it was running, and fortunately, she had put on boots this morning. Although, stilettos wouldn’t have