Phin hit the brakes. I tried to find the words, tried to tell him that maybe I was wrong about us after all, maybe we should be together, but I wimped out and instead said, “Your last shots were too high. Aim lower. And compensate a little for bullet drop. It’s a much longer distance than you’ve tried before. Remember you’ve only got four shots. Wait for my signal.”
“What’s the signal?”
I considered it. “When I say Latham, let her have it.”
Phin nodded. His face looked pained.
“Be careful,” he said.
“You too.”
We stared at each other for a few more seconds. I shivered. Not from the cold. From fear.
Phin clipped the walkie-talking to his front pocket and reached for the door handle, ready to climb out of the truck.
Dammit, Jack. Say something.
“You know,” I managed to sputter, “a little while ago, I was going to try to talk you into still staying friends.”
Phin turned, looked at me.
“Is that how you feel now?”
“No. Now the only thing I want in the whole damn world is for you to kiss me like you mean it.”
He leaned over, his lips finding mine, his tongue finding mine.
I was sure he meant every second of it.
“Don’t die on me, Jack.”
I smiled at him, my eyes glassy. “Just try not to shoot me.”
He grabbed his rifle and climbed out of the truck, blending into the weeds. I crawled over to the driver’s seat, shifted gears, punched the gas, and headed for what ever hell Alex had in store.
I parked a dozen yards away. McGlade was in the parking lot outside the Crimebago, next to the side door, taped to his computer chair. Alex crouched behind him. She had a gun in one hand, holding it to Harry’s temple. The other held some sort of detonator, the wire trailing from it and into the open side door of the RV.
I made sure the radio was on, the talk button depressed, and hung it under my armpit, clipping it to my sports bra. The sweatshirt was loose enough that you couldn’t tell it was there. I hoped. Then I grabbed my gun and climbed out of the truck.
“Hold it! Drop the gun! Hands over your head!”
I let the gun clatter to the pavement.
“Raise your hands, turn in a full circle!”
I complied, searching for Phin when I faced his way. I didn’t see him. And then I had a really bad thought-did he grab the right rifle? If he took mine by mistake, the sights would be way off because they’d been configured for me. And with his bad elbow…
“Walk toward me slowly, Jack, keeping your hands raised.”
Her gun had switched from pointing at Harry to pointing at me. Right at my heart. Alex liked the chest shot. I felt a cold, dead spot where the bullet would hit if she pulled the trigger. It made me want to run into a corner, curl up fetal, and suck my thumb. I managed to get my legs moving, even though they felt like wet noodles.
“Stop there.”
She made me halt ten feet in front of her. Alex was an excellent marksperson, and at this distance she might as well have been holding the gun directly up my nose. She wouldn’t miss. Even if Phin fired on her. My only chance was if his first shot was a kill shot.
I didn’t hold out much hope for that. This plan was looking worse and worse. It would have been smarter to just drive up really fast and run her over.
“Let Harry go,” I said, with a lot more strength than I felt.
“I’m going to.”
“You’re going to?” Harry said. “My ass.”
Alex patted him on the head. “Don’t worry. I’ll come back for you eventually. But Jack and I are going to go away for a while. I’ll send you some pictures. Maybe you’ll even be able to recognize her, under all of the blood.”
I shook my head slowly, my eyes fixed on her gun. “I’m not going with you, Alex.”
“Yes you are. You’ll do what ever I tell you to do. You’ve given up, Jack. You’re a shell of your former self. I knew that when I saw you at Latham’s funeral.”
I tensed, waiting for the shot. It didn’t come. Was I in Phin’s line of fire? Or did he know that was Alex talking, not me?
Was the walkie-talkie even working?
Jesus, this plan sucked.
“Even if you kill both of us, I’m not going anywhere with you, Alex.”
“You can walk over here, Lieutenant. Or I can shoot out both your knees and drag you over here.”
“No you won’t,” I said. And the fear washed away, being replaced by cold, hard anger. “This is for Latham.”
The shot came from my left, plugging into the Crimebago only inches above Alex’s head. She reacted instantly, ducking down and diving inside through the door.
Phin fired again, his shot aimed at where she disappeared.
Save your last two, I thought, willing him to hear. Then, in a crouch, I ran toward Harry.
Phin fired again, apparently not hearing my telepathic message, his shot pinging into the side of the RV.
“Stop firing, you knucklehead!” Harry screamed. “The whole thing is one big bomb!”
I grabbed Harry’s chair-which thankfully was on coasters-and began to pull him back toward the Bronco. My thanks were short-lived. The parking lot surface was rough, uneven, covered in gravel. It would have been easier tugging him through mud.
“Dammit, sis, pull!”
“I’m pulling, McGlade! There are rocks stuck in the wheels.”
We’d only gotten halfway to the truck when gunfire erupted, coming from the RV. Bits of asphalt flew up from the ground, peppering my legs, making me fall. It felt like being hit with a birdshot. I clawed my way back to my feet, calves bleeding, and dragged McGlade another few steps.
“Try pushing me!” Harry ordered.
I thought about telling him to shut up, but every ounce of energy I had was being expended trying to get him away from the bomb. One of the coasters snapped off, forcing him off balance and making him tip onto his side. I let go, pitching forward, my legs screaming at me. I crawled back to Harry, meeting his eyes.
“Come on, Jackie. You can do it. We have to get farther away.” He grinned at me. “I ain’t heavy. I’m your brother.”
I thought-absurdly, considering the situation-that Harry had kind of a nice smile.
Then the Crimebago exploded, tossing us through the air like rag dolls.
CHAPTER 56
I OPENED MY EYES, stared up at empty sky.
A moment later, the sky wasn’t empty. There was a plane flying over me. A jumbo jet, so close I could almost touch it.
But I couldn’t hear it. All I heard was a dull, droning hum.
Then the pain hit.
My head felt like it had cracked open and was leaking. My arm was behind my back, twisted at a funny angle. My legs were on fire.
I blinked. Checked my head. No major leaks, but a helluva lump, and my stitches had opened up. My arm hurt, but didn’t seem to be broken. And my legs weren’t actually burning, just cut up.
I looked left. I was lying next to the Bronco, when I’d been several yards away from it before.
I looked right. The Crimebago was mostly gone, leaving a smoking crater where it had been parked.
The lot had become a debris field. Harry’s scorched sofa. Part of the Murphy bed, red velour sheets still clinging to it. Half a computer monitor. The top part of a bucket seat. A severed human leg.
I squinted at the leg. It wore jeans, and a red boot with a stiletto heel.
The boots Alex had been wearing.
“Told you I wasn’t going with you,” I said to the leg.
I sat up, the world spinning, making my stomach unhappy. After swaying a little, I found my balance and began looking across the landscape of detritus for Harry.
He was ten yards to my left, taped to the broken remains of the chair.
I crawled to him, wincing at a dozen kinds of pain, navigating bits of engine and a burning spare tire that stung my eyes and nose.
“McGlade…”