by Celia Aaron
I stared down into her wide eyes. “Do exactly as I say.”
She winced as another bullet slammed into the drywall.
“Who the fuck is that?” Nate crawled to the back door and palmed his gun.
“Ramone.”
He glanced back at me, the color draining from his face. “You shitting me?”
“Wish I was.” I rolled, pulling Charlie on top of me and away from the clear shot through the front window. Her breasts pressed against me, her breath coming in shallow gasps. “Breathe, Charlie. You’re safe as long as you’re with me.” My anger at the scissor stunt died down when I saw her fear.
She clutched my jacket, her eyes frantic. If she didn’t calm down, she was going to hyperventilate.
“Charlie, listen. Breathe. In slow, out slow.” I smoothed my palm down her back. “Follow me.” I inhaled slow and deep.
After a moment, she followed along, easing her breathing and relaxing her body into mine. She felt good, too good. We didn’t have time, not with Ramone stalking her.
“Who’s that prostate tickler after?” Nate asked as another bullet lodged in the wall “Me? You?”
I gave him a hard glare, trying to will him into silence, but silence had never been Nate’s strong suit.
He turned his eyes to Charlie. “Her, huh? Why her?”
I didn’t want to scare Charlie any more than necessary, but she needed to know how serious the situation was. “The boss is keeping Berty close.” I eased Charlie off me and sat up, though I kept my body between her and the bullets flying through the front of the shop.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Nate bounced his head against the wall.
“He told me to clean up Berty’s mess. Said that he put out a contract with Ramone in case I couldn’t get the job done.”
Charlie froze, her breathing growing shallow again. “You’re supposed to kill me?”
“Whoa.” I rubbed my hands along her upper arms. “That’s not going to happen. All right?”
Her chin trembled as she stared up at me. The fear in her eyes ripped at my heart. I kept rubbing up and down her arms, as if my touch could convince her I’d never hurt her.
Nate checked his magazine, then slammed it home with a schick and a click. “Why the hell does the boss want that fucking snake Berty around?”
“Wouldn’t say, but he wants Berty free and clear to be his right hand.”
Cold realization colored Charlie’s face in a sallow shade. “He doesn’t want me to go to the police. Is that it?” She gripped my suit jacket. “Tell him I won’t say a word. I won’t tell anyone. He’ll leave me alone then, right? I swear I won’t say anything.”
I shook my head and grasped her warm hands. “It doesn’t work that way.”
“I won’t tell. I promise.” Her insistence didn’t change the fact that the moment Ramone had a clear shot, she’d be dead.
“It’s too late for that.” I squeezed her hands. “Ramone’s out back.”
“Out back?” Nate shook his head and pointed toward the shattered window. “I’m pretty sure the bullets are flying from that way.”
“That’s not Ramone. Looks like he’s got a lackey out front. That gunfire is meant to get us into the alley where Ramone will be waiting.”
“How do you know?” Nate pressed his back against the wall and gave a wary look at the door.
“Because I know.” Because it’s what I would do. I turned to Charlie and gripped her chin. “Is there another way out of this place?”
Panic made her voice high and reedy. “N-no. Only if we jumped from the second floor.”
“Roof access?” Nate glanced to the ceiling.
Charlie’s eyes brightened just a tinge. “There’s a ladder, yes.” Her hope faded just as quickly. “But the door is locked, and the key is in the counter up front.”
It didn’t matter. “Both our cars are out back. Even if we got to the roof, we wouldn’t make it very far before Ramone popped us.” I did the quick math of what we needed to get out of the shop alive. None of my possible plans ended with all three of us breathing. “We can’t all make it, and Charlie needs to get away from here, fast.” I gripped my gun and stared at the back door. “I’ve got a plan.”
“What are you doing?” Charlie balled my lapels in her small fists.
“I’m going to put down some covering fire. Nate will take you and go. Get as far from here as possible and lay low.”
“That’s a suicide mission.” Nate shook his head.
“It’s our only option.”
“He’ll kill you, man. That’s what he does.”
“Not if I kill him first.” I stood.
“Don’t go.” Charlie grabbed my forearm, her eyes glistening.
Why would an angel cry for a sinner like me?
Nate gawked at her. “Damn, Charlie. You’re worried about him when you were going to go Edward Scissorhands on my ass?”
“You’ll be safe with Nate.” I didn’t have to check my magazine. It held fifteen rounds, plus one in the chamber. The 9 mm was an extension of my arm; I could feel the weight of each bullet. It was ready to go, and so was I. “Where’s the roof access?”
She glanced to a narrow door at the side of the room, but pressed her lips together.
“Hey.” I softened my voice and leaned down to peer into her sparkling eyes. “I need you to tell me. Otherwise, I’ll just go in blind.”
Her breath hitched, and the words spilled out. “Stairs are through there. Once you get to the top, you’ll see a small door to your left. It’s locked, and inside there’s a ladder to the roof.” A tear escaped from the corner of her eye. I wiped it away with my thumb, and burned her face into my memory. If Ramone turned my lights out, I wanted Charlie to be the last thing I remembered.
“Stay here until you hear me shooting, then go. Keep low.” I pulled out my keys and tossed them to Nate. “The Audi’s positioned for a quick getaway. On the off chance he hasn’t knifed the tires, take it. He probably has, so you’ll need to run.” I closed my eyes, imagining the alley’s layout. “If the tires are shot, run right. He’ll be set up to the left on the fire escape of that four-story brick building at the end of the alley. I’ll take him out or pin him down. After that, find a car and get the hell out of Dodge.”
“I can’t leave you, man.” Nate shook his head. “Ramone and his guys, they aren’t fucking around. You go out alone, you’re dead.” The concern in his eyes should have warmed me. Instead, I worried that we’d wasted too much time. Ramone was smart. Every additional second we gave him was another way for him to plot Charlie’s death.
“Ramone works alone. The guy out front is a one-off. It’s just me and him. If I can get the drop on him from the roof, you’ll have a chance.”
“I don’t like it.”
“You don’t have to.” I glanced at Charlie, her frightened eyes glossy. “Keep her safe, you got me? She’s all that matters to me.” Laying my heart out was easier than I’d imagined. Maybe the grim reaper breathing down my neck put things into focus.
Her soft voice shook. “Come with us.”
“I’ll catch up.” I kissed her forehead, though I had no right to do it.
“You can’t catch up from a body bag, man.” Nate’s warning rolled off me like water from a roof. This was the only way.
I gripped his arm and squeezed. “You’ve never doubted me before. Don’t start now.”
“Shit.” Nate squared his shoulders and nodded. “You can do this, okay? You can make it out of here. You’re better than him.”
He was right, but not right enough for me to bet Charlie’s life on it. I stood and hurried to the door. Dark stairs angled upwards. I wanted to look at her once more, to capture the image of her sweet face and take it with me to hell. But I didn’t deserve that last bit of comfort.
I took the steps two at a time and prepared to help them escape, even if it destroyed me.
13
Charlie
Conrad disappeared into t
he dim stairway, his footsteps receding and then going silent.
“Fuck.” Nate pinched the bridge of his nose. “This is bullshit.”
A thud and the whine of wood splintering pierced the air—Conrad making his way to the roof. I stared at the doorway, as if willing Conrad to reappear and come up with some other plan. “What are we going to do?”
Another bullet hit the wall, sending up a small plume of white dust.
“We’re going to do what he said.”
“But he’ll die.” My mind spun with the pain that thought caused. I didn’t know him. Not really. Just that he was a killer. But that wasn’t completely true. He’d also saved me from Berty when he could have left me there.
“Don’t write him off so quick.” He gripped the back door handle. “He’s pretty squirrelly.”
A quiet pop and a cry sounded from the street. Nate whipped his head around, and we both stared at the doorway to the front of the shop. After a few moments of tense silence, I realized the shooting had stopped.
“He got the guy out front.” Nate turned back to the door. “Good. When I open this, you turn into my shadow. Stay on me. Come here.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me close. “Like this.”
“All right.”
“If I go down, grab the keys out of my hand and squeal tires out of here. Don’t stop until you hear banjos or the ocean. Got it?”
I nodded, my body going cold and my mind rushing too quickly for me to catch any thoughts.
“If the tires are out, run like hell.” He waited, his entire body radiating tension.
Different popping sounds punctuated the silence.
“That’s our cue.” He yanked open the door and darted into the alley. I followed him as closely as I could.
“Fuck! Tires are gone.” He turned right and pulled me along behind him.
More shots rang out, some from a louder gun that were interspersed with the quieter pops.
I skidded on a patch of ice, but Nate kept an iron grip on my hand as we ran, our steps echoing between the buildings. A few cars dotted the alley along with dumpsters and trash cans. A car window to my right exploded, and Nate hurried me behind the nearest dumpster.
He scanned the alley ahead of us before ducking back with me. “Who owns these cars?” He waved his pistol at the black SUV across the alley.
My heart thudded in my chest, and the freezing air burned my lungs. “Whoever owns these businesses. That black one is Mrs. Chan’s.”
“Where’s their back door?”
“Two doors down.”
“Locked?”
“I don’t know.” I jumped as a clunk sounded from behind me. Someone had shot the dumpster. “Probably.”
“We have to move.” He raised his gun above the rusted blue metal and fired three shots, then hustled me toward the dry-cleaning shop’s back door.
Nate tried the handle, but it didn’t turn. “Shit.” He pushed me down behind a gray garbage can and reared back to kick the door. It was made of thick metal. Knowing Mr. Chan, it was probably bolted three different ways on the inside.
I reached up and pressed the glowing doorbell next to the voice box on the wall.
Mrs. Chan’s frightened voice crackled through the speaker. “Go away. We don’t want trouble.”
“Tan! It’s me, Charlie. Let us in, please.”
“Charlie?”
“Yes!” More shots pelted down from the far end of the alley.
Nate returned fire, his shots wild as he kept kicking the unmoving door. He roared and jerked before grabbing his upper arm and taking cover next to me.
“What, did you get shot?” I pulled his hand away from his arm and found red seeping through his shirt. “Oh, no.” I pressed my palm against the wound.
“It’s fine. Just clipped me.” He fired a few more shots over the trash can until the gun clicked. “Empty. There’s another mag in my pocket.” He tried to reach for it, but his injured arm wouldn’t cooperate.
I dug in his coat pocket until my fingers hit metal. “Got it.”
“Can you load it?”
I nodded and took the pistol from him. Pressing the button on the side, I dropped the empty magazine into my palm, pocketed it then rammed the fresh one home.
His eyebrows shot up. “Who are you?”
“A florist.” I loaded a round into the chamber and handed the .45 back to him.
The back door swung open, and a terrified Mr. Chan leaned out just far enough to spot us against the wall. Nate grabbed me and yanked me inside. Mr. Chan slammed the door behind us and launched into a litany of Chinese I couldn’t follow.
“Car keys.” Nate advanced on a cowering Mrs. Chan. It occurred to me that he was a frightening figure when compared to the diminutive old couple.
“Wait.” I pushed in between them and put a hand lightly on her frail shoulder. “Mrs. Chan, we need to borrow your car. Please. And then we’ll go.”
She squinted up at me. “Charlie, your face.”
I’d forgotten about the bandage across my nose. “I’m fine, really.”
Her dark eyes flicked from me to Nate, and she pressed her lips into a thin line.
I placed my hands on her shoulders and forced her attention back to me. “He didn’t do it. He’s trying to help me. I promise. But we need your car keys. We have to get out of here to keep you safe.”
“But are you safe?” She grabbed my hand and pulled me away from Nate. “Stay here with us.”
“I can’t. They’re after me.” I squeezed her hand.
Realization seemed to take the wind out of her. She gave Nate one more hard look, before returning her gaze to me. “Take the car.” She scurried to a small desk against the back wall stacked high with receipts and other papers, and pulled a black purse from the bottom drawer.
A buzzer rang, and Nate swung his gun toward the sound.
Mr. Chan put his hands up. “No, laundry ready. Just laundry.” He pointed to the enormous front load washing machine along the right hand wall. “See?”
Nate stared at it, then glanced back at Mr. Chan. “Can you two fit in there?”
Mr. Chan adjusted his plastic-framed glasses. “What?”
“Look, there’s a seriously bad guy after us. If you get in the way, he may pop you just for shits and giggles. You need to hide.”
Mr. Chan turned to his wife and they spoke in Chinese.
“Way to scare the crap out of them.” I snagged a cloth belt with a springy floral print from one of the drying racks nearby. “Stand still.”
Nate did as I instructed as Mr. Chan brought his conversation with Mrs. Chan to a close. Neither of them seemed too pleased with whatever they’d worked out between them. Nate watched as I worked on his arm.
I tied the wound, hoping the pressure would stop the bleed. “This doesn’t look good.”
“Just a scratch.” He turned to Chans. “So, about that washing machine?”
Mr. Chan glowered behind his glasses.
“I think the washing machine plan is out.” I walked to Mrs. Chan. “Is there anywhere else for you two to hide in here?”
She handed me her car keys. “We have a room. Closet off the bathroom. It has a lock, and we can both get inside.”
Nate winced and gripped his upper arm again. “Good. Hide in there. Don’t come out until it’s been quiet for a long time or if you hear the cops. You already called them?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Good. Go.”
Mr. Chan grabbed his wife and shuffled her toward the bathroom. “Charlie? Are you going to be okay?”
“I think so.” I held up the keys. “Thanks for these.”
Mr. Chan shook his head, worry making him seem even older, but he followed Mrs. Chan to their hiding spot.
“Let’s go.” Nate grabbed the door handle.
We were about to run the gauntlet all over again. I took a deep breath and gave him a curt nod. Ready.
He yanked the door open, and I sprang back as a man barreled ins
ide.
Conrad grabbed Nate’s wrist and jerked it toward the ceiling right as Nate fired his gun. “Fuck, Nate.”
A white ceiling tile clattered to the floor behind us, the casualty of Nate’s errant bullet.
“Jesus!” Nate shoved Conrad back. “Scared the shit out of me.”
Conrad ignored Nate and walked to me, then ran his hands down my arms. “Are you okay?” His gaze bored into me, and apprehension gave him crow’s feet that weren’t there before. “Did you get hit?”
“No, I’m fine.” I wanted to hug him, though that didn’t make sense.
“Good.” He put a sigh of relief into the word.
“How about you?” I searched him for any bloody patches, but his dark shirt and pants hid any possible damage.
“Don’t worry about me.” He pressed his cool palm to my cheek. I leaned into it.
“Hey, asshole. I got hit,” Nate grumbled.
Conrad ignored him. “I won’t leave you again.”
Warmth ballooned inside me, though I wondered if he’d just made a promise that would be impossible to keep.
“This is heartwarming and all, but where’s Ramone?” Nate resumed his grip on the door handle.
“I don’t know.” Conrad’s expression hardened. “He’d be dead if it weren’t for his vest. I put enough lead into it to slow him down, but we need to go.”
“I got the keys to the black SUV out there.” Nate dangled the fob.
“Good.” Conrad palmed his gun and took my hand. “Stay close. This is going to happen fast.”
I squeezed his fingers.
“Ready?” he asked Nate.
Nate twirled his gun around his finger and came up with it, holding it low at his hip like an Old West gunslinger. “Born ready, motherfucker.”
“You’re an idiot.” Con shook his head.
“She loved it.” Nate grinned at me. “You loved it, right?”
Conrad rumbled with irritation. “Shut the fuck up and open the door.”
“Cock block.” Nate yanked the door inward, and we rushed outside. Gunfire erupted almost immediately, but we didn’t stop running. Nate and Conrad fired toward my shop as I huddled close to Conrad’s back.
