Chapter 139: They Picked the Wrong Shopping Trip

"By the truck," Dove warned, pulling back the slingshot. The man with the knife turned at her voice, and she let the stone go before she could think herself out of it. It struck the truck beside his face with a crack that made him flinch.

Thorne moved into the space that gave him. His hand met the bent panel, drawing it outward across the narrow passage before the attacker could reach Dove. The man hit the metal shoulder-first and tried to climb around it. Thorne caught his knife arm and drove him back against the truck.

A shot came from the street. Dove ducked behind the concrete corner, stone pouch clenched so tightly the seam dug into her palm. Edrik dragged an old steel loading gate into the open gap and held it while his power strengthened the metal beneath his hand.

"Stay against the wall," he told her. His voice was clear, not loud. "Thorne has the one behind us."

Dove pressed back until concrete scraped her coat. She could hear the driver shouting for his crew to stay down on the other side of the office. The rifleman fired again, striking the strengthened gate. Edrik stayed behind it and waited until the escaped attacker moved away from the pickup to get a better angle.

He fired once. The man fell beside the curb, and Dove flinched despite knowing the shot was coming. She didn’t get up to check. That was how people turned one useful action into a very stupid last decision.

The rifleman pulled back behind the engine block. Edrik changed his angle without releasing the gate, making him choose between staying hidden and following his companion into the open. Thorne came back from the maintenance truck with the attacker’s knife in his hand and took the near corner.

"That one’s down," he said. Dove looked at his face instead of past him. "Can you move the bundle by your feet? I need the path clear."

She touched their clothing bag and stored it. The small load was manageable, and Thorne could now step through without tripping over it. Then she moved herself, keeping low behind the wall while Thorne stepped into the cleared space.

The rifleman tried to retreat toward the pickup’s open door. Edrik waited for a clear line past the engine block and fired again. The man collapsed against the pavement before he reached the seat.

Dove stayed down until both husbands said the street was clear. Two shots from Edrik’s handgun left two rounds loaded. He checked the weapon before putting it away, then came straight to her instead of leaving her to watch him walk among bodies.

"You hurt?" he asked.

She looked at her hands, then down at her legs. "No. I’m just extremely done with today."

Thorne crouched on her other side. Dove caught his shirt and pressed her face against his shoulder for a moment, breathing through the smell of him. Edrik kept a hand on her back. Neither said she had been fearless, which would have been an obvious lie and quite rude under the circumstances.

When the guards checked both ends of the alley, they confirmed all three attackers were dead. The man from the van wasn’t going to spend another week finding new friends to point guns at her. Dove was relieved, and the relief didn’t make the street any easier to look at.

The convoy driver approached after his guards checked the pickup. He had seen who aimed first. His crew moved the men’s weapons out of reach while Thorne folded the bent truck panel back against its side, clearing their route. Dove took water, sat on the dock step, and waited for her hands to settle before trying to store anything else.

"My shot missed," she told Edrik.

"It made him look away. Thorne reached him."

"I’m still counting it as a miss."

"We’ll practice tomorrow. Today you kept your head while somebody came at you with a knife. That took guts, Dove."

She gave him a tired look. "Being reasonable is very annoying when I’m trying to complain."

He smiled, small and familiar. She wanted to kiss him for it but settled for pulling him close enough that his forehead rested against hers. Thorne sat beside them, his knee warm against hers, while the driver finished speaking to his crew.

Nobody asked her to abandon the haul. Once the street was safe, they packed the department-store stock, then checked the attackers’ goods with the convoy men. No names or ownership marks identified the unmarked food and tools. Dove checked the pockets and lids too, remembering the bag still waiting in the freight-yard hold. Anything uncertain went with the driver’s local recovery record instead of becoming hers by accident.

They took sealed food, a sound tool kit, blankets, two flashlights, and the attackers’ weapons. Edrik sorted the ammunition by its markings and tested nothing in a random gun. Eight rounds matched his handgun; the rifle ammunition and other pistol rounds stayed separate. He topped his handgun from two loaded rounds to six, leaving four of those new matching rounds spare, plus the earlier matching supply in his own pack.

The pickup had a damaged tire and no key they could find. They left it for the local recovery crew, recording it with the driver. Dove wanted its useful gear, not a mystery vehicle that would strand them beside another road.

In a side compartment, Thorne found a camping case. Dove expected another stove and nearly waved it toward the cart without opening it. Then he lifted a folded privacy enclosure and a small portable shower pump with its hose.

She stared at it. "Tell me all the pieces are there. Don’t be handsome at me unless all the pieces are there."

Thorne checked the bag against the little instruction sheet, then held up the showerhead. "You asked for one when it was still snowing."

Dove took it carefully. They would need clean water, safe heat, and somewhere private to set it up. None of those sounded impossible anymore. She looked from the case to her husbands, letting herself want something good after the fear.

"Tonight," she said. "I want to use this tonight."