Page 70 of Fire for Effect

“Could be better.” I wasn’t really up for debating this, but God, I loved it when he was riled up in a crisis. “But come on, when does the plan ever last past the first shot?”

“Well, usually if you’re the one firing the first shot, you get a bit more fucking command and control of the situation!”

“Oh, you’re so boring,” I laughed. “Is that what you learned being a g-man?”

“How are you still alive?” He changed magazines, and I wondered how many he had. Probably a couple more in his pockets? Such a deadly little boy scout.

“Cover me while I move!” I yelled, before Griff could open his mouth and fight me.

I knew him. He wanted to make a quick exit and come back later with more strength. But that didn’t sound like fun.

“No!” he responded. “I don’t got you covered! Taz… you fucking crazy Psycho!”

I moved, running to a nearby bit of cover, ducking my head, running with a pistol in my right hand. I felt the air displace as Trout’s bullets whizzed around me. Pop! Pop! Pop! Griff got off three shots before I was down again, hiding behind a rusted pull trailer.

“I knew you had me covered,” I laughed, as I resumed the prone position with my pistol up.

Slightly closer to the blue, broke-down mobile home, I got a glimpse of the black leather cut of the Prodigal Sons on the back of the former Navy SEAL who had probably seen better gym days.

“Next time, I’m just going to let you get shot!” he threatened, but there was no bite to it. “I’m not catching another bullet for your reckless ass.”

“But you like my ass!”

He growled as he responded, “Cover me while I move.”

“Got you covered!” I lay down suppressive fire as he moved up his position, and the former SEAL kept on lobbing us with his poor shot.

“Are you drunk?” Griff asked the SEAL as he took cover behind some kind of potted plant. Not my first choice of cover, but it was better than nothing.

“Fuck ya’ll!” said Trout.

“Here, Fishy-Fishy!” I called out, smiling at an irate Kai Griffith.

He scowled back at me, which just made me happier.

With angry gesticulations, he let me know that he was going to go around, and that I was to stand there and lay down suppressive fire or pose as a decoy. I gave him a huge thumbs up. His eyes darkened even more, as his agitation for me grew.

“You missed me,” I told him, flashing him my sweetest possible smile.

The big ol’ grump rolled his eyes, sliding over to start low crawling around the house.

To keep Trout’s attention, I yelled, “Just come on in with us, polite and peaceful! We’ll treat you nice, I promise!”

“Fuck you!” Pop! Pop! Pop!

The guy had a limited vocabulary. Then again, he was a Navy SEAL. They weren’t recruited for their oratory skills.

“I promise I’ll treat you sweet,” I said, with a chuckle. “If you come in quietly, I’ll make sure there’s ice cream and cake.” I combat rolled to another position, just as he started opening fire to where I was. He had missed my movement, because he jumped when I called out, “I’ve got a nice, padded cell in Guantanamo with your name on it, baby. They have cable now and everything. All the reality TV you want.”

“Over my dead body,” I heard him say, just as his front door opened, and Griff’s voice came out loud and clear, and kinda sexy…

“That can be arranged.”

Bingo.

“Check it out, Griff,” I said, coming to my feet and dusting off my dirt-riddled thighs. “You caught a big fish!”

He didn’t think it was funny.

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