“Armed!” Quinn said, just loud enough for Orlando to hear.
But it was the wrong thing to say. Jenny heard it, too, and looked back toward the escalator.
“Keep moving,” Quinn said.
There was the spit of a suppressor behind him.
Jenny fell to the ground.
There were only a few people in the first-floor courtyard of the shopping center. All their eyes were on Quinn and Jenny, and had not seen the gun in Blondie’s hand go off. The only thing they’d seen was Jenny fall down.
One couple started toward her to see if they could help, but Quinn raced over ahead and got there first.
There was another spit, then a bullet flew past Quinn’s hip, slamming into the tile floor. The woman who had been approaching suddenly screamed. Quinn pulled out his gun, swiveled, and pointed it in Blondie’s direction.
He started to squeeze his trigger, but stopped. The man had crouched down behind the metal railing of the escalator. There were several innocents nearby, suddenly aware of the danger and trying to get away. A shot would be too risky.
Quinn spotted Orlando crouched near where the escalator let off, less than ten feet from Guerrero’s man. She waved for him to keep moving. But he leaned down, put his gun on the floor, and slid it across to her.
As she reached out to grab it, Blondie stood up, his gun coming around to aim past Quinn at Jenny.
Quinn dove toward her, not so much to shield her body as to get her moving.
“Up, up,” he said as he lifted her to her feet.
Quinn braced himself, expecting to be hit, but he was untouched.
He got Jenny on her feet and pulled her forward, his arm around her waist. He didn’t look back until they reached the exit.
Orlando was running toward him. Behind her, lying at the base of the escalator, was Blondie. His face was twisted in pain as he cradled a bloody hand against his chest. But they weren’t out of trouble yet. Two of his friends had just rushed onto the escalator from the second floor.
“Are you all right?” Quinn asked Orlando.
“Fine,” she said.
Outside at the curb, Nate was standing next to a taxi. The back door was flung wide open.
Quinn pushed Jenny in first, then climbed in after her, with Orlando getting in last. Nate took the passenger seat up front.
“Drive!” Nate said to the taxi driver.
“I don’t want trouble,” the driver said, apparently sensing something was up.
Orlando pointed her gun at him. “Then get the hell out.”
The driver obviously thought this was a good idea, as he threw open his door and jumped out of the car.
Nate was already climbing into the driver’s vacated seat, knowing it was his job now to get them out of there.
He dropped the car into drive and pressed the pedal all the way to the floor. He didn’t even bother shutting the driver side door. It did it on its own as they sped away.
Finally feeling momentarily safe, Quinn leaned over to take a better look at Jenny.
“Are you hit?” he asked. He hadn’t spotted any blood, but she’d gone down right after Blondie had shot at them.
“I...I don’t think so,” she said. “I heard something next to my head, then I fell.”
Quinn patted her legs, then her side. She winced when he reached her left shoulder.
“I think...I think I dislocated it,” she said.
He pushed on it a little harder, and she yelled out.
“Phone’s in my pocket,” Quinn said to Orlando. “Call Ne Win. We need a doctor.”
CHAPTER
QUINN AND ORLANDO GOT JENNY INTO THE APART
ment, while Nate drove away in the taxi, with orders to abandon it as
far from their location as possible. They took her into the master bedroom and sat her on the bed. “How is it?” Quinn asked Jenny. “It hurts,” she said. “But I’ll be fine. You should have let me go. You
should have let me talk to him.” “Just relax. Let’s not worry about that right now.” From down the hall they could hear the front door open. “Quinn?” It was Ne Win. “Back here,” Quinn yelled. The old man appeared at the bedroom door, trailed a second later
by a younger man holding what looked like a medical bag. Ne Win was
