Shane zipped up the duffel bags of cash and picked two of them up. Judging by the size of them, there was about $1.5 million per duffel bag. A lot of money, but just like Shane had said… Chump change compared to the jewel. "Jack, grab the other two bags. Let's get out of here."
"Don't get any funny ideas about keeping that money," I warned.
"I just want my sister back.”
Technically, we should have counted the money, called it in, and logged it as evidence. But playing by the rules wasn't going to get Riley back.
JD picked up two bags.
I kept an eye on the hallway.
Rodney returned with two friends as we stepped out of the storage unit. They hovered at the end of the hallway with weapons aimed at us.
I shouted, "Rodney, whatever you're thinking, it's a bad idea."
"Walk away, pig! Leave the girl and the money, and nobody gets hurt."
"It’s not gonna work like that. Put your weapons down. Get on the ground, face down.”
Rodney blasted a few shots in our direction.
I ducked for cover in the storage unit as the bullets whizzed down the hallway, pelting the door at the far end. The deafening echo of gunfire bounced off the concrete walls.
"That was a stupid decision, Rodney!” I shouted.
"He's not the sharpest tool in the shed," Brandi said.
"I see that.”
More gunfire erupted, rocketing down the hallway.
"Rodney, you’re just digging the hole deeper for yourself.”
Footsteps echoed, and I had no doubt Rodney had sent his minions around to flank us.
It wasn't long before one appeared at the opposite end of the hallway. He fired a slew of bullets in our direction.
Molten copper rounds smacked the concrete jamb, sending chips of debris in all directions. Some of the bullets made their way into the storage unit and pierced the corrugated metal walls that separated the spaces.
Jack angled his pistol around the corner to the right and fired down the hall, while I fired at Rodney to the left.
The thug to the right wasn't that far away—four units down, tops.
This was not a good place to be.
36
Bullets crisscrossed the hallway.
The deafening cacophony of sound rattled my skull. The thick, reinforced concrete walls and steel made it impossible to get cell service in this building.
There was no calling for backup.
The thug on our right fired another few shots, peppering the corner of our storage unit.
More chips of concrete spewed.
He hit the mag-release button, and the magazine fell to the concrete and danced away.
