CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
“Mmph.” Maria groaned as she came around. Her senses were dulled, her vision fuzzy. She smelled diesel fuel and felt a rumbling beneath her. She was sitting on a hard bench seat, in a dimly lit corridor.
She tried to move her arms and metal bit into her wrists. Her hands were cuffed tightly behind her back.
“Welcome back,” Sanders muttered from beside her. She was cuffed as well.
Maria winced at the pain in her cheek and jaw. She remembered walking away from the meeting with Cartwright. She remembered getting about two blocks away before the black Jeep screeched to a halt in front of them. The Division had found them. She had freed her Glock and fired off several shots while she and Sanders ran for it.
Then she had turned a corner, and the last thing she remembered
