Getaway (Short Story)

“Don’t say it.” Jay chances a look around the corner, immediately ducking back as two bullets hit the plaster where his face had been. 


“Say what?” Nat mocks, reloading. The alarms are silent, but their earpieces are tuned to specialised frequencies, and the constant shrill beeping is giving him a headache. Their cover is blown anyway, so he says nothing as Nat rips the offending gadget out of her ear, stashing it in a pocket on her vest, even though she looks like she’d rather crush it between her boot.

She pierces him with a stern look. “Oh, you mean, don’t say I told you so?”

Jay wastes a few precious seconds to rile her up with a wink, before aiming his gun carefully around the corner and laying down return fire. There’s a lifesized blue whale skeleton hanging from the roof, and if he aimed carefully enough he could probably tear into the chains holding it up.


A smoke bomb rolls to a stop in front of him.

Guess that’s that plan gone.

“We should have taken the roof.” Nat grabs Jay by his vest and spins them around, sweeping her leg low to kick the bomb down the hallway past them. Before they’ve stopped moving, she shoulders her pistol, pulls a grenade and launches it towards the ceiling.

There’s a dull thud as it lands on the whale’s third vertebrae. _Great minds._

“You said that already.” From his new position, Jay spots two more guards behind them and clears the last of his round into them before they can take another step. He reloads and checks his inventory, cursing when he realises he’s running low. If they can get to the other side of this room, they should be able to escape without a problem.

Unfortunately, tonight has been chock full of problems.

Nat waits for his nod, gives a sharp jerk in return. “Yeah, well, listen to me next time.”

The grenade explodes, ripping through the fragile bones and most of the ceiling, bringing the bulk of the animal down onto the four guards underneath. Jay would feel bad about destroying it, but he’s pretty sure it was paid for with blood money, and frankly, right now he’s got bigger fish to fry.

When he chuckles to himself for that excellent pun, Nat nudges her elbow into his ribs, because they’ve been partners for so long she knows exactly what he’s laughing at.

“Let’s go.”

There’s shouting, but no gunfire, so they rush through the room, pausing only to pick up some guns, and, in Nat’s case, leave a round between the eyes of the guy who had nearly shot Jay earlier.

When they clear the room, it’s a rush to get to the stairwell. Echoes of boots and voices come closer, but they’ve run out of time for stealth. Jay reaches the door they need, and stands guard, letting Nat tuck in tightly behind him to destroy the lock.

A flicker of light is all the warning he gets before pain flares across his bicep. He’s squeezing the trigger before it’s finished registering, and there’s a satisfying grunt and thump in the darkness, followed by increased footsteps. They have to move.

Thankfully, Nat’s got the door open, and the next fifteen minutes are a silent run to the basement, where their car is waiting. Jay’s on edge, they haven’t seen a single guard since they left the stairwell, and he can’t shake the feeling that they are being watched.

Nat slips behind the wheel and they take off, tires squealing through the garage, and it’s only when they reach the road that Jay takes a deep breath. Something is sitting strangely, a cold realisation that their escape was too easy, even for them, but he doesn’t have time to dissect it right now. They need to get to the safe house where they can clean up and decide their next move.

Speaking of. Jay’s aware of a dull throb in his arm, but he ignores it in exchange for taking stock of Nat beside him. Her wild red hair is dark with sweat and blood, matted and dried on her temple. No doubt there’s a few shallow cuts there from the explosion, but likely nothing serious. Her hands are similarly battered and bloodied, but otherwise she appears physically unharmed. In fact, to an outsider, she could pass as calm. But Jay knows her better than that. Sees the way her knuckles grip the wheel, the controlled way she’s breathing, an old trick from their bureau days.

Cramped and cold, the safe house is a studio apartment above a foreclosed corner shop. Access to the upstairs is only possible through a code, which Nat enters swiftly, before completing a perimeter check, her movements short and sharp until she’s established that they are alone and Jay finally sees the tension bleed out of her shoulders.

Dropping his tac vest and removing his weapons, he follows Nat’s silent order into the bathroom, where he perches on the edge of the tub, watching as she fishes out the first aid kit. Even bathed in blood and fury she is the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. He itches to smooth out the crease that’s formed between her brows but he knows better than to reach out when she’s mad at him.

She helps him out of his shirt, and he’s thankful that whoever shot him had terrible aim. It’s a flesh wound, and the bleeding has stopped, but it’ll likely add a new scar to his collection. No wonder Nat’s pissed.

“You’re an idiot,” she says, softly, as she starts cleaning the wound. Jay doesn’t miss the quirk of her lips when he hisses at the contact. “I don’t know why I put up with you.”

What a mess of a night. He feels like a bit of an idiot, but then, he can’t imagine having made a different choice. It had been a risk, albeit a miscalculated one, but it would have been worth it if it had worked out.

Back to the drawing board, then.

“Are you listening? Or did you leave your hearing back there with your wits?”

Gods dammit, he loves her.

She returns his smile, but takes no pity on him while she continues to stitch him up. “You didn’t have to go to all that trouble you know, you could have just asked me at dinner, like a normal person.”

“When have we ever done anything by the book?”

Leaning back, she eyes her handiwork, then him, her hands coming up to frame his face. “For the record, my answer is yes.”

The kiss is gentle, but sure, built on the backs of the thousands of kisses that had come before it, and the years of love that lived between them. Despite the craziness of their work, and the unpredictable nature of their futures, this—they—are rock solid.