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“It’s Jena, Mom,” she said quietly so the guys couldn’t hear her on the other side of the door.
She talked with her mom for a few minutes and found out everything was good there. Kimmie was still asleep, so she didn’t get to speak with her. Ending the conversation with the promise of coming to get them next week, Jena clicked off the phone.
She was so anxious to get back to Kimmie and her mom. The separation was killing her. She needed to help Matt and Sean bring down the Russian mobster and Lunceford as soon as possible. They were smart. They might be able to help her with the Carl situation. If they could, she would be back where she belonged for good—with her daughter.
Could she trust them with everything? She wasn’t sure.
She put the cell back in her purse. Opening the door, she looked at Matt and Sean. “Any word from Floyd about my car? It would be nice if I could see it.”
“No answer,” Sean said. “Just keep getting his voicemail at the garage.”
“It’s a nice morning. Why don’t we walk,” Matt suggested. “When Floyd drove us here, it only took five minutes. By foot, it couldn’t be more than fifteen minutes to the garage.”
“Works for me,” she said, ready to get back on the road.
The morning air was crisp as Jena walked between Matt and Sean.
Matt had been correct. The walk was short and pleasant. As they approached the garage, she saw her car sitting outside, freshly washed. It certainly seemed to her the work was done. Was it the fuel pump or the relay? She still was betting the latter.
They heard a gunshot inside the garage.
“Get down,” Sean shouted.
She flattened herself to the pavement and pulled out her gun. Matt and Sean moved in front of her, acting as cover to whatever was going on inside. Like her, both men had drawn their weapons. They shuffled behind White Ghost. Another shot.
“Did they find us?” Her heart was racing like mad. “What about Floyd?”
Matt held his index finger to his lips. Motioning to Sean that he was going inside to check things out, he crouched down and moved to the left of her car.
“Go with him,” she whispered, concerned for Matt’s safety. “I’ll be fine. I’ll cover you.”
Sean shook his head. “I’m staying. Matt knows what he’s doing.”
* * * *
Matt entered the garage from the back silently. The voices were coming from the front of the place. One he recognized as Floyd’s. The others with the Russian accents he didn’t, but he had no doubt they worked for Mitrofanov and had come looking for Jena. They must’ve seen her car from the road.
“I told you,” Floyd said. “I don’t know where they are or when they are coming back.”
Matt’s respect for the man was growing. Carefully, he moved forward and saw the whole scene. Four thugs stood over the old man and one of them had a gun to his head. The Russians had obviously gotten the drop on Floyd, but he’d wounded one of them. The handgun Matt had seen yesterday was being held by one of the bastards whose hand was bleeding. Good for you, Floyd.
The fire he could see in the old man’s eyes told him he wasn’t surrendering without a fight.
“You tell us where the bitch is who owns that car or you’re dead,” the guy with tats running up the side of his face said.
That’s all I need to hear.
He grabbed a can of oil and tossed it to the other side of the garage.
It hit the floor with a bang.
The four killers turned and pointed their guns in the direction of the can. Their backs were to him now, just as he wanted.
“Hands up, motherfuckers. You’re surrounded.”
They didn’t comply but whirled around.
In a flash, he took out three of them, their bodies crashing to the floor.
