Thrower took a quick look at them, then started walking backwards, making sure there were no more surprises coming after them. Jacobs would have to be their eyes moving forward.
It seemed like it took forever, but they finally reached the front gate. It was closed, but it wasn’t locked. It could be opened either remotely or manually. Thrower got in front of the others and pulled the gate open, allowing all of them to go through. Thrower stayed near the gate for a minute, as Jacobs helped Joe get to the car, to give them time as well as keeping his eyes open for Mallette’s men. It didn’t appear anyone was coming.
Joe pointed to a car on the side of the road. “Just get me to that car right there.”
“That yours?” Jacobs asked.
“Well, one of Mallette’s men. I’m assuming it belongs to one of the ones no longer with us.”
“You got a key?”
“Don’t need one. I can make do.”
“What about your leg?”
“I’ll get it taken care of. Thanks.”
As Jacobs leaned Joe up against the car, Thrower came running over to them. He still didn’t see anyone else out there.
“Thanks for the assist,” Thrower said, tapping Joe on the back of the shoulder as he reached him.
Joe grinned. “Thanks for helping me out here. I assume whatever happened before with Ames and all, that’s behind us?”
“I’d say tonight squares everything.”
Jacobs nodded. He only cared about the men following Mallette and Ames, as much as they were after him. If they all recused themselves from the fight, Jacobs felt no need to go after them.
“Yeah, I’d say tonight makes us even.”
“Good luck to you both,” Joe said. “And like I said… get that SOB and take him down.”
“Will do,” Jacobs replied.
“C’mon,” Thrower said, tapping Jacobs on the shoulder as he started running back to their own car. Though they didn’t see anyone else out there at the moment, he didn’t want to take chances by standing there chatting away. He was ready for this night to be over.
Jacobs turned and joined his friend as they ran towards their car. Thrower already had the car running by the time Jacobs jumped in. As soon as the door closed, Thrower put it in gear, racing out of the area.
Jacobs sighed and closed his eyes as they drove off. “That was close.”
“Too close.”
“I should’ve brought Gunner.”
“I’m not sure it would’ve made much of a difference,” Thrower said. “In fact, if you did bring him, he might not be here with us right now. He would’ve been the first one that Mallette shot, before he even got to us.”
“Yeah, you might be right about that.”
“So it’s probably a good thing you left him behind.”
“I guess so.” Jacobs rubbed his head, feeling the cuts he now had on it. “That felt like the closest we’ve come to Mallette ending it.”
“Yeah, if it wasn’t for Joe, we wouldn’t have walked out of that room. Chalk it up to a miracle or something.”
Jacobs pulled his visor down and started looking in the mirror. Cuts, bruises, blood, his face looked like he’d been in a twelve-round boxing match. The losing end of it.
Thrower looked at him and laughed. “Yep. You’re gonna have a lot of explaining to do.”
12
Once they arrived back at the house, Jacobs and Thrower sat in the car for a few minutes.
“You sure it’s a good idea to not prepare them for… well… you.”
“I told them we were on the way back,” Jacobs said. “That way they wouldn’t worry.”
Thrower pointed at his partner’s face. “Yeah, but… you didn’t tell them about that.”
“What, do I look like I need plastic surgery on my face or something?”
“No, you just… didn’t leave the house that way. Probably should warn them that you got a few injuries.”
Jacobs shrugged. “I’m fine. A few nights of rest, and I’ll be as good as new.”
Thrower raised an eyebrow. “A few nights? You might wanna try a month.”
“OK, so I got hit a few times. Not the first time. Hopefully it’s the last. Let’s not make it bigger than it is.”
“I’m not the one who’s gonna make a big deal out of it.”
“Let’s just get inside.”
“I agree,” Thrower said. “Let’s go in and take your lumps… again.”
“Find that amusing?”
Thrower laughed. “Just a little. Gotta take some humor out of tonight, don’t we?”
“I guess.”
They got out of the car and walked to the front door. Jacobs was a little behind Thrower as they got to the house. As soon as they reached the door, it opened with Franks being the one waiting for them. Thrower walked in first, with Jacobs ducking his head, almost as though he was trying to hide his appearance behind Thrower.
“Well, it’s about time you got…” Franks stopped himself when he noticed Jacobs’ face.
Tiffany came rushing in from the kitchen, excited that they were finally back. “Hey, how did everything…” Her mouth fell open, then she put her hands over it, as Jacobs picked his head up, allowing them to see his face. “Oh my god… what happened?”
“It’s nothing,” Jacobs answered.
“Nothing?” Franks said with a laugh. “You look like Rocky when he got into the ring with the Russian. Only Rocky looked better than you do. And he won. You look like you got the wrong end of it, man.”
“Well, I didn’t.”
“You sure about that?”
“Yes, I’m fine.”
“Sure don’t look fine.”
“Well, I am.”
“Well, you don’t—”
“I’m fine!” Jacobs said.
Franks put his hands up. “If you say so.”
Tiffany slowly walked over to Jacobs. She stood in front of him, not touching him yet. His face looked like it hurt, but she couldn’t resist any longer. She slowly, cautiously, put the tips of her fingers on his face, hoping she wasn’t causing him any more pain than it looked like he was in.
“What happened?” she asked.
“We just
