Page 73 of S.O.S. Mizzay

“Here we go,” she hooted.

Cobble closed his eyes and pictured it, hoping that if he made shit happen successfully in his head—just as she’d described it—it would assure that the stratagem worked.

“Suweeet!” she chortled a minute later, and if Cobble weren’t so scared, he’d be totally turned on by her badassery.

The seconds after her cry of glee seemed to draw out forever until—

“Shit! Shit, shit, shit,” Andy screeched.

“Dammit,” Cobble yelled. “Are you okay?” He couldn’t keep a lid on his angst any longer.

“Yeah. I’m fine, and clear. But the dumb-ass just plowed straight into a tree,” Andy told him. “I’m heading back.”

“Have your gun ready,” Cobble cried out.

Andy actually snorted after a short silence. “Really? Allthreeof you are going to tell me my business like a freakin’ chorus?”

Cobble would thank the pair of SOS operatives later.

“My Glock is in my hand,” she assured them all.

That made Cobble feel a little better.

“Cobble. Listen. I’m not trying to ditch you, but I’m at the site of the crash, and I’m ten seconds from getting out of my car. That means I’m probably going to lose you since you’re on Bluetooth, so…”

“Don’t hang up,” Cobble yelped hurriedly. “I’ll be able to hear at least something if you leave the line open.”

If it were a gunshot, though, he might just die of fright.

“Okay. But please don’t panic.” Yeah. She knew how he rolled. “I’ll be fine.”

Fingers crossed.

Cobble heard the click of her seatbelt, then…

He pictured her door opening, her weapon in hand, raised. He imagined her going over to the wrecked car, and…that’s all he had.

Eventually, after what seemed like an eternity, he heard her voice. Then he heardmalevoices. Was it her SOS teammates? Was it the traitor or traitors in the car?

At least there hadn’t been a shoot-out. That had to count for something.

****

Missy approached the smashed up, smoking vehicle cautiously, gun poised.

There was no movement within that she could see, but with a lot of the black-out glass smashed and spidered, it was difficult to tell if anyone inside was stirring.

Behind her she heard a couple cars skid to a stop. She knew it was Billboard and Wiley, but she wasn’t going to wait for back-up. After so many years of murder and frustration, she needed to see who was inside. Right the hell now.

Keeping her firearm raised, she reached for the passenger side back door handle closest to her. The one at the front would have been her first choice, but it was quite obviously too crumpled to be operational.

“On three,” she mumbled to herself. “One… Two…” She yanked the door open, ducked inside, and …

“Man down,” she yelled to Wiley and Billboard who were closing in fast.

Andy stashed her weapon in her underarm holster and scrambled forward on her knees. There wasn’t much room to wiggle. The whole left side of the vehicle had accordioned to thepoint where the back seat was smushed up against the rear of the driver’s position. She was just able to position herself mid-chassis. She glanced over the seat.

The driver was slumped over the wheel, his chest clearly compressed from the crash.

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