hanging loose outside his chinos but his right hand was stealing underneath the hem, going for something that was concealed at his waistband. Something I couldn’t see, but could certainly guess at.
I broke into a run, using my arms to pump up instant speed like a sprinter leaving the blocks. At the last moment Trey became aware of my full-pelt charge and looked up, startled out of his surly guise. Oakley man was watching his expression. He started to twist, head turning.
And that’s when I hit him.
I ducked my shoulder and caught him with a full body slam without breaking stride. I hit him hard and low, and was lucky to stay on my feet in the process. I was luckier still I didn’t snap my damned collarbone. He wasn’t carrying muscle bulk but he was solid, all the same.
Oakley man went down in an ungainly sprawl, letting go the .40 calibre Smith & Wesson he’d been unholstering as he went. The pistol clattered onto the concrete and spun out of both our reach under the legs of the nearest group of fleeing passers-by. I didn’t stop to wait for him to retrieve it, just hurdled his legs and kept on going.
I grabbed hold of Trey’s shirt by the front and the collar and hauled him sideways off the wall, ignoring his wail of protest. But for once, he didn’t argue about doing what I suggested, or going where I wanted him to go.
Out of there. Fast.
I pushed the kid ahead of me, trying to keep my body between his back and our unexpected attacker. I knew I should have just kept my head down and kept running, but I couldn’t resist a quick glance behind us.
Oakley man was still on the floor. His hat was missing but the sunglasses were still in place, giving his face a terrifyingly blank stare. Worse, he had managed to recover his gun. He was clasping it firmly in both hands and swinging the muzzle in our direction, heedless of the crowd.
Finding the nearest exit suddenly wasn’t as important as finding cover. I jerked Trey sideways just as the first two shots rang out, so close together the second report sounded like an echo of the first. After that I didn’t need to urge him to greater speed.
Panic ripped through the immediate vicinity. I’d heard people screaming all day but this was different. This was the real thing. A scattering became a stampede as everyone strove to get out of the firing line. In doing so they inadvertently put themselves directly into it.
Oakley man wasn’t deterred by having human obstacles in his way. He fired another two-shot salvo towards us just as a terrified woman darted across our path. Both rounds caught her in the body. The second passed straight through in an explosion of blood. She was so close to us that we were both splattered with it as she tumbled.
I didn’t even stop to check if she was dead.
In a heartbeat, Trey had shifted from pain in the backside to principal. My sole concern was to get him away from the source of the danger and to keep him alive. Nothing else mattered.
I’d automatically taken in enough of the park layout during the morning to know where to find the exits. The security guards we encountered on the way were too busy heading for the trouble-spot to try and detain us, despite our freakish appearance.
We bolted out through the turnstiles and I was suddenly glad Trey had insisted we pay for preferred parking so he didn’t have to walk from the far parking area to the front gate. Nevertheless, by the time we reached the Mercury Sable I’d been allocated the sweat had glued my polo shirt to my back and drenched through where it was tucked in to the waistband of my shorts.
I fumbled with the key in the door, then bundled Trey straight across the front bench seat into the passenger side, jumping in after him. As I jammed the key into the ignition and cranked up the engine my eyes were frantically searching the nearest rows of cars for the first sign of those wraparound shades.
I yanked the column-mounted gearlever down into drive and released the parking brake, chirruping the tyres as we set off. I forced myself not to put my foot down too hard on the way out. If Oakley man didn’t know what car we were driving, there was no point in making it obvious. My eyes constantly scanned the rear-view mirror.
Trey sat huddled in the corner of the passenger seat furthest away from me, his eyes wide and blank with shock. I knew I should do something to reassure him, but for the life of me I couldn’t think what.
“Put your seatbelt on,” I said instead, calmly. He threw me a disbelieving glance, but buckled up without demur.
I followed the signs for the freeway doing my best not to exceed the posted speed limit. No cars seemed to be making an effort to get close to us. Still, I didn’t start to breathe again until we were on I-95 heading away from Fort Pierce, south towards Fort Lauderdale.
It was only then, as my heartbeat finally began to settle and my brain started to come out of survival mode, that the question returned of where I’d seen Oakley man before. It lurked brooding at the back of my mind, an itch I couldn’t scratch.
I pulled the mobile phone they’d given me out of my pocket, noticing for the first time the blood on my bare forearms, and I remembered again the woman who’d been shot in front of us. I glanced down and saw that her blood was all over the front of my pale fawn polo shirt as well, a livid splash of colour already turning dark as it dried. Trey had a few flecks, but I’d caught the brunt of it and looked like an extra from a Tarantino flick. No wonder he’d been unnaturally co-operative.
I hit the speed-dial for the house. Whitmarsh was in charge of house security and he was going to go ape- shit. But that was nothing to what my boss, Sean was going to do when he found out my low-risk babysitting job had ended in a full-scale assault. The fact that, technically, Whitmarsh had authority over Sean would make very little difference.
The Pelzners’ home number rang without reply, the endless long burr of the US phone system. I let it ring until it clicked off, then tried it again, checking carefully that I’d punched in the right number. I steered with one hand, flicking my eyes from the phone to the road. There was no mistake.
I tried Sean’s own personal mobile, but all I got was a recorded message telling me the number I was calling was switched off. I knew that the house was never empty and my boss never had his phone off without leaving it on divert or answering machine.
Right there, in a big car on a big stretch of open road in a big country, I suddenly began to feel very small, and very lonely.
And then, because I’d pushed it to some peripheral part of my brain, my mental retrieval system finally connected and spat out the information I’d been searching for. I remembered exactly where I’d seen Oakley man before and I wished to God that I hadn’t.
It was just about this time I realised how much trouble we were
ROAD KILL
Charlie Fox book five
by Zoe Sharp
Still bearing the emotional scars from her traumatic first bodyguarding job in the States, Charlie Fox returns to her former home to try and work out both her personal and professional future.
Instead of the peace for which she's been hoping, Charlie is immediately caught up in the aftermath of a fatal bike crash involving one of her closest friends. The more she probes, the more she suspects that the accident was far from accidental – and the more she finds herself relying on the support of her troubled boss, Sean Meyer, despite her misgivings over the wisdom of resuming their relationship.
And Charlie's got enough on her plate trying to work out who suddenly wants her dead. The only way to find out is to infiltrate a group of illegal road racers who appear hell-bent on living fast and dying young.
Taking risks is something that ex-Special Forces soldier Charlie knows all about, but doing it just for kicks seems like asking for trouble. By the time she finds out what's really at stake, she might be too late to stop them all
