She nodded in agreement.
Quinn motioned for her to take cover behind the central prep table, then he tucked himself in next to a storage cabinet. From beyond the door, he could hear breathing. Not labored, but deep nonetheless.
Quinn gripped his gun in both hands, then concentrated all his attention on the people beyond the door.
A footstep, so light it was almost nothing. Then two steps, simultaneous. Two people.
The door inched open, its old hinges emitting a low creak.
Quinn waited, hidden from view by the cabinet. He could hear two people quietly enter the kitchen. The door began to close behind them.
Quinn took a deep breath.
“Drop them,” he said as he pushed himself out, gun leveled at the new arrivals. Men, dressed much like their friend had been.
The man nearest the entrance moved the hand holding a gun quickly toward Quinn, while his partner ran to his left. Quinn fired first, catching the man square in the chest. He then turned his SIG toward the partner. But the man had crouched out of sight behind the far end of the prep table.
“Don’t be stupid,” Quinn said. “Put down the gun and step out.”
Quinn caught a glimpse of the barrel of a gun turning toward him. He dove to the floor just as the man’s weapon went off.
“Throw it down. Now!” the man said.
He stood up, his gun pointed at Quinn. That was unfortunate for him. He was paying so much attention to Quinn, he didn’t see the heavy skillet in Orlando’s hand rushing toward his head.
The pan connected solidly against his temple, staggering him.
As Quinn jumped up, the man tried to raise his gun. This time when the skillet connected with his skull, he dropped to the floor.
“You could have just shot him,” Quinn whispered to her.
“You said to be judicious.”
Quinn smirked. “Check him.”
While she bent over the man, Quinn moved to the dining area door. The two men in the kitchen and the one on the floor near the front entrance, that was three. If there was a fourth person on the team, he would most likely be in back, watching the alley. But best not to take any chances.
Quinn eased into the dining room, keeping low. He did a quick sweep, but with the exception of unconscious man number one, the room was still empty. It wouldn’t be for long, though. Quinn could hear the wailing of at least two approaching police cars. They were still several blocks away, but they would be here soon.
He ran back into the kitchen.
“We’re going out the back,” he said as he moved quickly through the room to the rear door.
Orlando was already there, standing next to Nate.
“What if there’s someone else out there?” Nate said.
Quinn moved a finger to his mouth, quieting his apprentice. The sirens from the police cars were very near now. Any moment they would be entering the parking lot out front.
“Cover me,” he said to Orlando.
She nodded. Quinn counted to five, then pulled the door open.
Nothing happened.
Holding his gun in front of him, he walked quickly into the alley and did a 360 sweep. Again, nothing. If there had been another one of the team waiting to stop their escape, the sirens must have scared him off.
“Let’s go,” Quinn said.
At the Marriott, Quinn and Orlando kept watch while Nate went up to the room and quickly gathered their things. After that, they went to Aunt Jay’s house. By then, it was almost 11 p.m.
“There’re two bedrooms upstairs, you guys can take those,” Orlando said as they entered the living room.
“What about you?” Nate asked.
“I’ve been using the guest bedroom down here.”
That was all Nate needed. He grabbed his bag and headed up the stairs.
“Do you have any of that lemonade left?” Quinn asked.
“I can do better than that,” she said.
She led him into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. There was a six-pack of Kirin beer sitting on the top shelf.
“Picked it up after everyone left this afternoon,” she said. “Bottle opener’s in the drawer over there.”
Quinn retrieved it while she pulled out two bottles.
“Come on,” she said.
