“We’re right behind you,” Rocky said.
They all sprinted down the steps and Laney noticed parishioners scamper back into the church, out of range. Some already had their cells to their ears. Good.
Jake slid his keys into Laney's pocket.
She glanced at him in alarm. “What are you doing?”
“You get the chance, you run.”
Laney, Jake and Patrick ran down the porch steps and towards the parking lot. Mike and Rocky brought up the rear.
“No!”
Laney whirled around at Rocky's scream. Mike was down, the companion sitting on his chest, waling away at his face. Before Rocky could get off a shot, Paul tackled her. Her head thudded sickeningly at the impact. Paul reached down and yanked her gun from her hand, emptying three bullets into Rocky’s chest before tossing it aside.
Patrick shook himself loose from Jake. He ran for Mike, launching himself at the man atop him.
The man dodged at the last moment. “Missed me,” he taunted.
“Wasn't going for you,” Patrick replied. He raised Mike’s gun, which had been thrown in the fight. He pulled the trigger four times, all four bullets finding their mark in the man’s chest. The man staggered back into the building, disappearing from sight.
Jake and Laney raced for Rocky. Jake faked a hook and then charged shoulder first into Paul, wrestling him to the ground.
Laney dropped to the ground next to Rocky. “No, no, no.”
Rocky’s eyes were closed, her breathing shallow. She had blood pouring from a wound in her arm, and one bullet seemed to have snaked in just under her vest, by her waist. “You wore your vest. Thank God.”
She pulled Rocky's uninjured arm over her shoulder and dragged her towards the parking lot.
She glanced back in time to see Paul's friend reappear and leap into the fray. Mike took aim, but missed and the man was on him. He punched him in the face. Laney was jarred by how far his head snapped back. Mike's gun fell and the man reached down for it. He fired - two in the chest. Mike’s body shuddered.
Laney’s heart felt like it stopped. From the impact, she could tell Mike wasn’t wearing his vest.
Jake flipped Paul over his shoulder, sending him flying, and then with a running jump, tackled his companion to the ground. Patrick crawled up next to Mike. He pulled off his jacket and used it to try and stop the bleeding.
She locked eyes with Paul as she reached Jake’s car. Her heart hammered at the hate she saw there. She dropped Rocky to the ground and struggled to open the truck door.
“Going somewhere?”
Paul appeared as if out of thin air. He shoved her away from the truck. She fell over Rocky, who was still sprawled on the ground. She scrambled to her feet. Paul reached out and pulled her close.
“You know, you really have been a nuisance. You were supposed to be a simple kill. A little professor. A female, no less. And now all this.” He pointed to his wounds. “I was going to make this easy on you. But now, I think you need to feel a little pain.”
His hand whipped out and backhanded her across the cheek. The blow dropped her to the ground. Picking her up, he slammed his fist into her stomach. Doubled over, pain like she’d never felt raced through her. His next kick flipped her onto her back.
Straddling her chest, his hands wrapped around her neck. “Let’s see how many times you can die, shall we?”
Laney punched at him, but she might as well have been hitting him with cotton balls. He didn't even flinch.
Spots began to dance across her vision. A movement underneath the car next to her pulled her attention. Her eyes flicked over and met Rocky’s. Somehow, she had crawled under the car and was now lying right next to her. Rocky pushed a gun towards Laney’s outstretched hand, a sheen of sweat on her face, her movements slow.
Laney reached for it, trying to figure out where Rocky had gotten it. Her finger tips stretched almost to the breaking point. She felt like weeping when they finally wrapped around the hilt of the small .22. She recognized it. Rocky’s backup.
Her finger firmly planted on the trigger, she pulled the gun between her and Paul. She pulled the trigger. Paul fell back. Blood dripped from the wound in the left side of his chest, but he remained straddling her chest.
Laney gulped in air, almost lightheaded from the infusion of oxygen. “Get. Off. Me.”
He sneered at the gun in her hand. “Haven’t you learned yet? That won't stop me.”
“Might not kill you, but it’ll hurt you. I just need hit the right spot.” Latching on onto his shirt, she pulled herself forward, the gun flush to his chest, right over his heart. She pulled the trigger. Paul fell back, but Laney held on. The gun never wavered from its position. She kept firing until the clip was empty.