“Owain,” I said.
“It’s them.”
“It’s definitely them and they’re coming for me.”
“Stay calm. Don’t move. Do what they ask.”
“Owain—” I sucked in a breath as I recognized the man on the left. It was Clifton with a big smile on his face as he approached my window, his gun held loosely in his hand. The other guy had a pig-like nose and a bushy mustache, and lingered on the passenger side, trying to see into the back of the van, but it must’ve been too dark.
“Window,” Clifton shouted. “Window down.”
I rolled it down and stared as he pressed the gun against my face.
“Bags.”
I nodded. “I’ll do it slow.”
“Get the fucking bags, girl.” He stared at me, eyes narrowing. “You shouldn’t have done this alone. What the hell was Owain thinking, sending you?”
I reached over and grabbed one of the duffel bags. It was heavy as hell and I hefted it up, trying not to show how much I had to strain. Clifton frowned as I flung it at him, using all my core strength to throw it out the window. He was caught completely off guard and the rocks smashed into his chest, knocking him back a few feet. He let out a surprised and painted grunt as I took off my seatbelt and dove over the seat. When I landed face-first, the back door swung open, and Piggy stared in at me.
Owain unloaded on him. He staggered back, shock in his eyes as red bloomed in his chest. My hands shook like crazy as Owain moved forward, looking haggard and tired, but kicked Piggy to the ground as he leapt out of the back and landed in the street. He turned toward where Clifton was—but a second car came screeching up behind us. Owain fell back, turning around to the other side of the van, and opened fire on the Jackals that spilled out from the car. I counted three of them and threw myself back over the front seat, ladning on the passenger side floor. Bullets whizzed around, slamming into the car, pinging off the street, and smashing into houses all around us.
I reached up and released the glove compartment. My little gun fell out and I managed to grab it and pick it up. I heard Owain shout something as he returned fire, but we were outnumbered by a lot and he was pinned down. I had to do something before the Jackals overwhelmed us completely.
I crawled across the front seat and pushed open the driver side door. I managed to get out, face-first, catching myself on the pavement. I stayed down as the deafening gunfire continued, then looked up—and saw Clifton standing a few feet away, his back to me. He peered around the side of the van, clearly looking for Owain, and hadn’t heard me get out over all the gunshots. I got up and walked toward him at a crouch, trying to stay calm.
He turned at the last second, but by then it was too late. I pressed my gun against his head and his eyes went wide. His barrel pointed down at my stomach, and for one agoninzing second, I thought he might take the shot even though it would mean his life. I might survive, or I might not, but he’d go down either way. He must’ve done that math and held his fire.
“Drop the gun,” I said, shouting so he could hear me.
He released his weapon. It clattered to the ground. I kicked it under the van and grabbed his arm, pressing my gun tighter against his head.
“Walk toward your guys.”
He cursed but I shoved him. He moved, taking small steps like he wanted to delay as long as possible. One of his men spotted us, and the look on his face was incredible—pure shock mixed with rage and disgust. He held up his hands and shouted something, and the gunfire came to an abrupt halt as Clifton’s guys stared at me with my gun pressed against their leader’s head.
“Drop them,” I said, probably yelling, but I couldn’t hear anything over the ringing in my ears.
One by one, they put down their weapons.
Owain appeared around the van, his eyes wide with surprise and delight. He waked up to Clifton, punched him in the face, then yanked him away from me and kept his own gun trained on Clifton’s neck. He looekd back and grinned, gave me a wink, and nodded his head at the van.
I understood what he meant. I got inside and waited for Owain and crawl into the back with Clifton in tow. Once they were inside and the doors slammed shut, I drove the van up onto the sidewalk, got around the truck blocking our way, then sped off as fast as I could.
“Holy shit,” I said. “Holy shit holy shit.”
Owain laughed, loud and deep and hard. I met his eye in the rearview mirror as he continued to hold his gun pressed against Clifton. I couldn’t help but grin as I drove, my hands shaking, my gun on the passenger side seat next to me. I got as far away as I could without making the van an obvious target for cops waiting around the neighborhood. I wanted to scream or throw up or both, and Owain’s laughter only made my already frayed nerves dance around wildly.
“Plug up your ears, little diamond. I’m going to kill this mother fucker and be done with it.”
“Wait,” I said.
Owain grunted in surprise as I pulled the van over and turned to face him. Clifton cowered away and kept his arms over his head like that would stop a bullet.
“Why would I wait? I can end him here and toss his body out in the street. We’ll be home in twenty minutes.
“He’s too useful to kill.”
Owain shook his head, eyes wide and mystified. “Useful? This bastard’s been fucking with us for all this time and now you want to save him?”
“Listen to her, Owain, I can—”
Owain smashed his gun
