yahoos with the Desert Eagles might kill Jack.
Of course, she might already be dead.
He can continue to play hide-and-seek, try to pursue his pursuers. But Phin has no training, no military experience. He can fight, and he can shoot, but that’s the extent of his commando skills.
Or he can break into the house, grab Jack and whoever else is inside, and try to herd them all to safety.
That seems best. Phin fishes out a pocket flashlight, attached to his key chain, and peers in the garage window. He sees stacked cardboard boxes. Phin strips off his T-shirt, wads it up against the glass, and smacks the cloth with his gun. There’s noise as the glass shatters, but not too much. He clears away the big pieces of glass, spreads his shirt over the pane, and climbs inside, wiggling between the wall and the boxes.
Phin holds his breath, listens. Hears nothing.
The boxes are all various sizes and weights. He tucks the revolver into the back of his jeans and wastes a few minutes finding his way through the cardboard maze, picking up, climbing over, and shifting all of Jack’s crap. When he finally makes it to the middle of the garage, a space opens up, and he sighs in relief.
That’s when someone hits him in the head with a shovel.
Phin stumbles forward, then falls to the right, feeling the wind of another swing sail past his face. He waves his mini-flashlight, sees the shovel coming at him again, and rolls out of the way.
Phin gets on all fours, reaches around his belt for his gun.
It isn’t there.
He scuttles backward until he has some room to get to his feet. His head hurts, but it’s bearable. He does a quick sweep of the floor with the light, looking for his dropped gun but not finding it, then raises the beam to view his attacker.
Now it made sense why Jack called. Alex forced her to. Once upon a time, Alex almost killed Phin. Apparently, she wants another chance.
“Hello, Alex. You’re looking well.”
Alex smiles, but the scarred side of her face doesn’t move. She holds up a hand to shield her eyes from the flashlight beam.
“I like the bullet holes,” she says, pointing the shovel blade at the healed pockmarks on his torso. “Sexy.”
Phin and Alex begin to circle each other.
“Those your friends outside, standing guard?” he asks.
She shakes her head. “No. Jack is Miss Popularity to night. Apparently she collects enemies. She’s got something about her that really pisses people off.”
Alex moves in closer. Phin steps back, out of range.
“They’re coming,” Phin says. “Two of them.”
“They’ve been shooting at the house for almost three hours. They can’t hit shit.”
“They’re not using rifles anymore. They’ve got handguns. If they get in the house, we’re all going to die.”
Alex stops moving. Phin can see her working it out in her head, can see she doesn’t like the odds any better than he does.
“What’s the situation inside?” Phin asks.
“No ammo. No guns. Where’s yours?”
“If I had one, you wouldn’t be standing there right now. How many people are in the house?”
“Jack. Her mom. Her boyfriend. Her partner. And Harry.”
Phin tries to sound casual, tries to keep the hope out of his voice. “Is Jack okay?”
Alex smiles again.
“Got a little crush on her, Phin? Isn’t she a bit old for you?”
“Is she okay?” Phin asks, harder.
“I kicked her ass, but she’s alive. Everyone in there is pretty beaten up. In fact, I shot Latham. Maybe he won’t make it, and you’ll have a shot at your secret crush.”
Phin realizes he took too much time navigating the boxes. The men are going to bust in here any minute. He can’t afford to waste time sparring with Alex.
“You’ve got to make a choice, Alex.”
“Really? What choice is that, Phin?”
“Those guys are going to come in and kill anything that moves. They’ve got Desert Eagles. You ever see one?”
“I had one. Beautiful weapon. It can shoot a hole through a brick wall.”
“They’re coming, and they’re coming now. You and I can go a few rounds while they’re sneaking up on us. Or we can figure out how to defend ourselves.”
Alex snorts. “Are you serious? You want me to help you?”
“Either help, or leave. I don’t have time to deal with you right now.”
“The enemy of my enemy. Is that what you’re saying, Phin?”
“Make your choice.”
Alex stares at Phin for a moment. Then she starts to laugh. It’s a genuine laugh, and she shakes her head in obvious disbelief.
“Life certainly throws a few curves, doesn’t it?” she says.
Then she drops the shovel.
11:31 P.M.
KORK
I DON’T TRUST PHIN any more than he trusts me. And I’m sure that if he gets his hands on one of those Desert Eagles, the first thing he’s going to do is blow my head off.
Which, of course, is the first thing I’m going to do. I just have to make sure I get one before he does.
I turn up my palms and say, “Okay, we’re on the same side. Now what?”
Phin shrugs. “You were in the marines. I was hoping you’d tell me.”
“Any good marine knows when to fight and when to retreat. We should retreat.”
“You go ahead. Run east. I don’t think I saw them there.”
Which probably means he saw them in the east. Or maybe not.
This is going to be an interesting alliance.
“Okay,” I say. “Tell me what you saw.”
“Two men. They’re wearing vests, and each has a Desert Eagle. They took them out of the back of a Ford Bronco parked down the street.”
“Any more weapons in the Bronco?”
“I couldn’t see.”
“Keys?” I ask.
“I don’t know.”
“Did they put their rifles in the Bronco?”
“I heard rifle fire, but didn’t see any guns.”
Which means the rifles might be abandoned on Jack’s property somewhere. Why did the shooters ditch their rifles? Out of ammo? Or do they figure they’ll finish the job with the handguns, then pick them up later?
I can remember where the shots came from. If I did a perimeter check, I might be able to find a rifle. And unlike those knucklehead snipers, I hit what I aim at.
I stare at Phin. Of course, he may be lying. Maybe he knows where the rifles are, and plans on getting one for himself.
Detente is a bitch.