From this close, I could see the sweat beading his forehead and I knew he never thought he would have to use that gun. No one ever thinks they’re going to have to use one.
He hesitated to pull the trigger.
Garlic Breath did not.
His bullet was true to its mark and within seconds embedded itself right in the center of the man’s head. Blood splattered across the counter and sprayed the wall.
Charlotte screamed.
The shotgun fell from the man’s grip as he crumpled to the floor.
I shoved Charlotte again, reminding her to move, and yanked the shotgun out of the dead man’s hands. He wasn’t going to need it anymore.
I fired off a shot as I worked my way into the back, unable to aim as we scrambled back but able to hold off our pursuers to buy us a much needed few seconds.
The sound of falling boxes caused me to turn in time to see Charlotte trip over a stack of mail and fall onto the floor.
“Get up,” I ordered. “Find the backdoor!”
I heard her scramble up as the man who killed the mail guy came bursting around the corner after us.
I aimed and fired.
The bullet tore into his shoulder, ripping muscle from bone as blood scattered across his cheek. The impact of the shot threw him backward and he fell. The gun he was toting skidding across the floor and underneath a cabinet.
He gave a shout of pain and then like an injured animal, he began to struggle to get back to his feet.
A couple more men came around the corner, their attention diverted to their bleeding friend, and I took aim again.
“Tucker! Let’s go!” Charlotte yelled, and I felt the stirring of cold air at my back. She must have found the door. The sound of guns being cocked told me that more than one man had us in his sights.
I kept the shotgun aimed and steady as I backed toward the cold air. When I got close enough, I felt Charlotte’s hand on my shoulder as she yanked me through the exit and slammed the door.
I let out the breath I’d been holding and glanced at her.
There was blood on her face.
I grabbed her chin, pulling her around so I could ascertain how injured she was. Flashbacks of Connors lying in the sand, bleeding out and moaning filled my mind.
I shook my head. I didn’t have time for that right now. Charlotte needed me.
“Where are you hurt?” I demanded, squeezing her chin.
“It’s not my blood,” she replied, her voice flat.
We were standing very close to the man who was gunned down right in front of us. I probably had some of his matter on my face as well.
A bang on the door behind us caused my body to tense, and I glanced up the alley, noting the traffic whizzing by at the end. “Let’s go.”
We took off running. The sound of our feet pounding against the pavement seemed far away compared to the thumping of blood in my ears.
The door to the UPS store banged against the brick when the men barreled through, giving a shout as they saw us running, and gave chase. A bullet hit the side of a building beside us and Charlotte screamed, reaching up to cover her head with her arms. I kept running, scooping her up as we went, and dragged her the rest of the way down the alley.
Another shot rang out and I practically threw Charlotte away from me and out onto a busy sidewalk.
I turned back and fired off another round, the shotgun casing making a hollow ping when it hit the ground. One of the men went down and I smiled.
But the smile was short lived.
Because Charlotte screamed.
Forgetting all about the men chasing us, I barreled out onto the sidewalk, looking wildly around. She wasn’t hard to find.
Because she was the only one on the street with a gun to her head.
I stepped forward, holding my hands up in surrender. I wasn’t quite ready to put down my gun because if I had an opportunity to shoot, I damn well would.
The man holding Charlotte was who she referred to as Garlic Breath. He was sweating profusely, pale, and bleeding openly from the hole I put in his shoulder.
Frankly, I was impressed he was still standing.
He pressed a black pistol right up against Charlotte’s temple, and she was trying to shy away, but his other hand was gripping the back of her neck, pinning her in place. Some people gathered around, watching the unfolding horror. Other people were scurrying away. I kept my eyes directly on Charlotte and that gun as someone behind me whispered into their cell phone to who I hoped was the police.
I tried not to be distracted by Charlotte’s terror-filled eyes. I tried not to be distracted by the way her skin was completely colorless. Her hands were wrapped around her middle and she clutched the drive and piece of paper against her.
“Let her go,” I said, once again showing him I would surrender.
“Drop the gun,” he ordered.
I hesitated. He yanked Charlotte’s hair, making her cry out.