Gone Missing by Camy Tang

continued toward them.
    Clay turned away from him, feigning disinterest. But he kept him in the corner of his eye.
    It enabled to him to react a split second before the man grabbed his arm.
    Clay sent an elbow back into the man’s nose. He jerked backward and toppled to the ground, more out of surprise than from the blow.
    â€œOh, sorry about that,” Clay said loudly. “I didn’t see you.” He quickly went to his knees and snatched the man’s gun from the shoulder holster under his jacket before he could react.
    As he paused to stow the gun in his waistband, the man recovered enough to grab Clay by the collar and slam his forehead into Clay’s face.
    Clay saw darkness and light. And pain. He could almost see his own pain in front of his eyes like stars. He dimly registered a blow to his torso, followed by distressed cries from someone nearby.
    His vision cleared and he saw people backing away from him and the man. He was on his side, curled up as the man was quickly getting to his feet, probably to aim a kick at Clay’s head.
    Clay lashed out with his legs in a move that brought his opponent crashing down to the ground again. Before the man could regain his bearings, Clay leaped for him and caught him in a guillotine choke hold.
    â€œClay!” Joslyn shouted. But it wasn’t a cry of worry. It was to get his attention.
    He looked up at her and she pointed. There were two trains approaching, one on this side, and one on the platform on the other side of the track.
    He understood her silent plea. “Go!” he told her.
    She ran, heading for the stairs to the other platform.
    The man twisted, fighting the choke hold, but Clay didn’t let up. After another few seconds, the man passed out. Clay leaped to his feet and followed Joslyn. Every footstep jarred his bruised stomach, but he sprinted for all he was worth.
    He’d only gotten to the stairs when he skidded to a halt. Joslyn was struggling with a second man who had both her wrists in his hands. She kept him so occupied that he didn’t even see Clay come up behind him and knock him down with a blow to the back of his neck.
    They raced to the other platform. The train had already arrived and people were filing inside. They found seats next to each other, and Clay twisted to look out the window, surveying the area. He hoped the train wasn’t one of those that would wait too long before leaving the station.
    Or even worse, he hoped someone hadn’t called security and they’d be here to drag Clay off the train. Clay scanned the crowd, and most people were ignoring them, some reading books or looking at their smartphones. One or two people saw him looking at them and glanced away quickly. Were they embarrassed to be caught staring or was it nervousness because they’d seen Clay fight with those two men?
    Then the doors
whooshed
shut, and Clay found he was able to breathe again. Beside him, Joslyn gave a sigh of relief, too. When the train started, he slumped in his seat.
    â€œI didn’t consider them sending a different team to follow us,” Clay said. “They must have sent them from San Francisco or Los Angeles once they were able to track the rental car.”
    â€œHow many resources do these people have?” Joslyn said.
    â€œI wasn’t thinking.” Clay pounded his fist into his knee, and the injured tendons twanged. “I underestimated them.”
    â€œYou couldn’t have known,” Joslyn said. She’d jumped a little when he hit his knee, but her voice was calm.
    â€œI’ve worked with men like them enough to have guessed what they were capable of.” Then he discreetly reached unto his waistband and passed her the man’s gun. “Took this off the guy with the jacket.”
    She quickly hid it in her purse. “Let me call Liam.” Joslyn pulled out a cell phone.
    Last night, as they were driving out of Phoenix, Joslyn had called the O’Neill