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She doesn’t let anything flip from her grip, the micromanaging bitch.
I rip out the tracker with a solid yank and shove it under the wheel so we’ll smash it on the way out. Then I rise quickly, fish out the room key, and rush inside.
Immediately, I go to the mattress and tug my pistol out from underneath it. I jam it back in the waistband of my pants.
“Finley. Time to get up.”
She blinks groggily at me and scrunches up her face. “What time is it?”
“Time to go. Get dressed.”
She must catch the urgency in my tone because she sits up in bed. “Is everything alright?”
“Good news. Raphael is alive.”
Some shine returns to her eyes. “He is?”
“Bad news. We have to leave. Now.”
No sooner do the words leave my mouth than the window shatters.
Quickly, I throw myself over Finley. She screams, and there are small shards of glass scattered across the bed like diamonds. I pull her off the bed and to the floor, covering her with my body.
There’s pain, like a dog’s jaws clamped on my shoulder, and I ignore it.
“Are you alright?” I ask Finley.
She’s crouched down, and she looks at me, her eyes saucer wide. “Yes.” Then her eyes fix on my shoulder. “You aren’t…”
I can see it now, the blood seeping through my shirt.
Grit your teeth. There will be time to hurt later.
I grip my gun and crawl on my forearms to the edge of the bed. Shards of glass cover the floor and dig into my knees. There’s a slot of space between the mattress and the headboard. I can peek through and make out the outline of Jacobi holding a shotgun, ready to fire again.
I aim and squeeze the trigger. I just barely miss him, and I hear him swear as he quickly swerves to take cover behind the wall.
“Your aim is crap these days, Archer,” Jacobi barks at me.
“Says the man who can’t hit a sleeping target,” I snap back.
The only thing stranger than getting in a gunfight in a motel?
Getting in a gunfight…with your best friend.
“We can still put an end to this, you know,” Jacobi continues. “Just hand over the girl.”
Finley looks at me, wide-eyed, bits of glass sticking to her hair. I put my palm downward and lower it, gesturing her to stay low to the ground.
“That’s not going to happen,” I respond.
Jacobi heaves a sigh. “You’ve always got to take the hard way, don’t you?”
“Couldn’t make it too easy for you. Where’s the fun in that?”
I measure the distance. It’s a short crawl from our coverage behind the bed to the wall. If I get flat against the wall, I’ve got a shot at taking Jacobi down. But for ten fateful seconds, I’m going to be uncovered. And he’s too good a marksman to give him any sort of opportunity.
I hold the pistol out to Finley. “I need you to cover me,” I murmur to her. “Can you do that?”
