"Run," Harry snapped, not hesitating a moment before throwing her off him and pulling his gun out.
"Harry, what are you…"
"Go, Ruth!" he shouted.
Ruth could not help but follow his command. Something in her still reacted to him as her boss, never mind him as a man she trusted more than any other. She stumbled slightly over her shoes—bloody clumsy as ever—and took off through the woods.
She got far enough away that she began to tire, though the adrenaline coursing through her in that time of terror was more than enough to keep her going. Her heart pounded dangerously and her breath came in short, quick pants. She hid behind a tree to keep out of danger but could not allow herself to be too far from Harry. She couldn't do it, couldn't leave him again. She had only just gotten him back. She needed to be in his arms and be with him as much as she needed air to breathe. It would have been smarter, of course, for her to do as he said and to run as far away as she could. But she just couldn't do it.
Harry was watching as the two men who he'd seen in the black Peugeot made their way though the dense forest. They were shouting at one another and both had guns. And he heard them call out for Renata. As though she'd be so stupid as to answer them. Though Harry knew very well the kind of intimidation such a thing could cause to a layperson; call their name, let them know how close how close you are, strike terror into their hearts and cause them to make missteps and get caught. But Ruth, though, Ruth knew better.
The shouting got closer and closer, as did the gunshots—done for the same intimidating purpose as the shouting. And when one of them, the one who had taken Ruth at the gate in the airport, got close enough, Harry revealed himself from his hiding place and shot the man.
He fell like a sack of bricks. Hadn't even known what had happened before he was down. And Harry knew from experience and instinct that the man was dead.
His companion, however, was now alerted to Harry's presence. He shot in the general direction. Harry took off running. He'd catch up to Ruth, if he could. They could both get to safety and call for backup and escape the danger before this assassin caught up to them.
There were more shots in Harry's direction. Getting very close, actually. And his knee was screaming in protest to all this bloody running. He fired blindly behind himself as he ran, though he knew he wasn't even getting anywhere close. He also had to preserve his ammunition if at all possible.
A bullet whizzed by his head so close that he could feel the disturbance of air next to his ear. Another came right after.
"Harry!"
Ruth's voice made him falter slightly. And out of nowhere, he was shoved to the ground. She'd jumped out from somewhere and pushed him out of the line of fire. He fell and rolled away a few feet.
From where he'd fallen, Harry turned to see Ruth lying on the forest floor, gasping and clutching her stomach. She looked at him with wide, terrified eyes.
They were not out of danger. Harry grabbed his gun and fired three shots with deadly accuracy. Right into the chest of the pursuer. He fell to the ground like his companion had. And then there was silence. Deathly silence.
Harry scrambled over dirt and leaves and rocks toward Ruth. She had not moved from where she'd fallen after pushing him. And then Harry saw why.
Sticky red blood covered her hand where she clutched her stomach.