Darkest Sins - Page 102

“Clown B, pull up the hood and descend the stairs.” Kai taps the tip of his gun on the man’s back. “Slowly.”

My heart rate triples as I keep my eyes fixed on my decoy while he descends the stairs. He’s halfway to the tarmac when a gunshot explodes into the night. The man jerks back, then topples to the ground.

Kai takes a step out and starts shooting somewhere to the left. Incoming fire ricochets off every nearby surface. The other guard tries to get behind the car for cover but falls to the pavement, too.

“Cub, you need to get into the car. Stay low.”

I hunch and rush down the stairs. Kai keeps raining bullets while he descends the steps—one at a time—behind me.

“Get in the back!” he shouts over the gunfire. “On the floor!”

I dive inside the car and slam the door closed. Kai walks around the hood, still blasting his gun. The instant he’s behind the wheel, he hits the gas.

“Under the back seat,” he says over the screeching tires as he cranks the wheel for a U-turn.

I grab the edge of the rear seat and lift, folding it up to open the hidden storage. Three handguns. A shotgun. Some kind of short rifle. Two other machine guns I don’t recognize. Knives. Grenades. An Uzi.

“AK-47,” he says. “Toss it onto the passenger seat.”

I gape at the array of weapons, having no idea what an AK-47 is. “Which one is it?”

“Small, brown handle. Big curved magazine.”

The short rifle. I grab the weapon and turn around to drop it on the passenger seat. When I look through the windshield, I notice a dark sedan driving a few dozen feet in front of us. And we’re gaining on it. Fast.

“Why are we chasing the people who’ve just been shooting at us?”

“So we can kill them, baby. Get down.”

I yelp and curl myself on the car floor, hands covering my head. The next moment, there’s a violent wrench and a thundering sound as the two vehicles collide and come to a sudden stop. Getting myself as low as I can behind the driver’s seat, I take deep breaths as automatic gunfire explodes overhead.

Should I help?

I am a lousy shot.

Doesn’t matter.

Lifting the back seat again, I grab the first gun I can get my hands on. It’s a lot heavier than I expected. I check the magazine—full—and pull the door handle. Using the open door as cover, I straighten and lift the weapon with both hands.

The dark sedan has stopped sideways, its left side heavily dented. A man is sprawled facedown on the ground by the driver’s door, unmoving. Kai is in the process of dragging the second shooter out through the front passenger door. There’s no one else in the back of the car; appears like my support isn’t needed.

I lower the gun and approach the driver. He seems pretty dead, considering the missing chunk at the back of his skull. Reddish goo is splattered all over his neck and back. It looks like blood and brain matter. Swallowing bile and trying hard not to puke, I flip him over to get a look at his face.

It’s one of the security guys from the Bay View casino. I’m fairly certain I’ve seen this bastard every week for the last six months, at least.

An anguished wail shatters the stillness. I jump to my feet and rush around the car. Kai has his quarry pinned to the ground and is in the process of breaking the man’s arm. The shooter’s other arm is listless and lying at an odd angle.

Crack.

I flinch as the man screams. With his face turned away from me, I can’t see what he looks like.

“Cub. Can you open my trunk and see if there’s enough space?” Kai asks conversationally as he turns to grab the man’s leg.

“Enough space for what?”

Crack.

“To pack our friend,” he says over the man’s wailing cries and grabs the other leg.