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“I’m okay. The wind’s knocked out of me. What the fuck just happened?”
“They tried to kill you.” Val pivoted to Phin, noting with relief that his body armor was level IV. The ceramic inserts had probably saved his life. He was breathing but not moving. “Phin’s down.”
“I’m not dead,” Phin muttered, sitting up with a groan.
Val let out a squeak of surprise. “Fucking hell, Phin. You scared me to death.”
“Pot... meet kettle,” Phin wheezed.
Kaj barked out a laugh, then groaned. “I think I have bruised ribs. You weigh a ton, Phin.” He sat up, wincing. “Where are you hit?”
“Not hit. Body armor.” He exhaled a shuddering breath. “But damn, it hurts.”
Sylvi. Val shot to her feet and pushed through the shop’s door just as a police cruiser screeched to a halt in front of them. “Are you all right?” she asked her sister.
Sylvi popped up from behind the counter, face pale, her cell phone in her hand. “I called 911. What happened?”
“That’s a damn good question. Oh shit.” Two uniformed officers had their guns drawn on Kaj and Phin. She pulled out her phone, unlocked it, and handed it to her sister. “Find Burke Broussard in my contacts list. Ask him to get here ASAP and to contact Captain Holmes.”
“Broussard and Holmes,” Sylvi repeated. “Got it. I’m glad you’re all right. I just got you back.”
Val managed a smile. “Me too, kid. Me too.”
Kenner, Louisiana
THURSDAY, OCTOBER 27, 4:50 P.M.
Yanking at the steering wheel, Corey pulled the car behind a convenience store, fury and pain burning him from the inside out. “Fuck.”
The bitch had hit him, and the bullet was still lodged in his forearm. His arm was on fucking fire.
“Let me see,” Bobby said. He’d been hit as well—twice—but those bullets had struck his vest. He had some bruised ribs, but he’d be okay. He grabbed a T-shirt from his duffel and wrapped it around Corey’s arm. “The bleeding has slowed, but we need to get this bullet out. And soon. Too bad we killed Zach. He could have fixed you up, being a paramedic and all.”
Corey’s laugh held a hysterical edge. “Fucking hell, Bobby. Shut up.”
Bobby grinned. “Couldn’t resist. What now?”
“I need to get this bullet out.”
Bobby scrunched up his face, in deep thought. “Is it Wednesday?”
Corey blinked at him. “Thursday. What the hell, B?”
“Thursday is way better than Wednesday for where we need to go. Okay, let’s switch places. I’ll drive. You’ll wreck us and then our day would start to suck.”
“Start to—” Corey huffed a laugh when Bobby winked at him. “You’re an idiot.”
“And for a second you weren’t thinking about your arm. Come on. Switch.”
They switched places and Corey leaned back to rest. His arm was bleeding again, so he grabbed a handful of napkins from the glove compartment and pressed them to the wound, applying pressure with his good hand.
I am going to kill that woman.
They’d followed Cardozo and the woman from the jail and had been ready to make their move an hour ago when they’d first arrived at the flower shop, but a damn semitruck had blocked their shots. By the time they’d moved for a better angle, the two had disappeared into the shop. He’d been so sure that they’d had it covered when Cardozo and the woman had reappeared.
They’d planned to kill the woman and take Cardozo alive. But the woman had not been as distracted as she’d first appeared to be. Corey might have admired her reflexes if he didn’t want to strangle her with his bare hands.
Bobby gingerly positioned himself behind the wheel, his ribs clearly sore. But he was in better shape, so it was better that he drove.
