Page 68 of Trigger

Halfan hour later, Thorsen and I stood in the shadow of a three-story building inthe shady part of town called The Cemetery. And yes, the name waswell-deserved.

“Doyou trust this Ralph guy?” Thorsen asked me, pulling out his gun.

“Hehas been my informant for two years. So far, his intel was useful.”

“Okay,then. The cavalry is on its way?”

“Yeah.Bruce said they would be here in ten minutes.”

“Arewe waiting for them?”

Whenhe looked at me, we both answered his question simultaneously. “Nah.”

Thorsengrinned and opened the front door while I followed him inside, holding my gunat low ready. I couldn’t hear anything, but the walls were thick, which meantthe building was well soundproofed. Its location was excellent, too, with agood view of the neighborhood. If I had to pick a hiding place, I would pickthis one.

Afterwe had checked the ground floor, we climbed the dusty stairway that led to thefirst floor. The faint voices coming from one of the rooms told us we had foundour target. We silently approached the door that was ajar, so I peeked inside.

“Baldieand two more guys,” I whispered. “They’re all armed.”

“‘Kay,”Thorsen murmured. “On three?”

“Yes.But Baldie is mine.”

Henodded. “One… two…”

Onthree I busted through the door, pointing my gun at the bald, bearded mansitting on the dirty sofa. He didn’t have time to stand up or pull out hisweapon. He merely stared at me with beady, yellowish eyes.

“Iwouldn’t do that if I were you,” Thorsen said to the other two guys in theroom. They froze on the spot despite the shotguns in their hands, but I couldrelate. They were, after all, faced with Mount Everest.

Baldiesneered. “Kill them.”

“Honestly,I would tell them the same thing,” I said, walking up to him, “if we didn’thave any backup.”

Baldie’sgrin left his face.

“You’regoing to jail, Davidoff,” I said as Thorsen motioned for the other guys tolower their weapons to the floor. Judging by their widened stares, they didn’tthink of disobeying.

“Andyou know what else, Davidoff?” I continued, glancing at the table in front ofhim, covered with bags of white powder. “I’ll make sure you get the maximumsentence, end up in the worst prison, and get the most homicidal maniac for aroommate. Do you know why?”

Hegulped, glancing toward the Winchester rifle in the corner of the room.

“Youwon’t suffer because you’re a scum, a drug dealer, and a criminal, Davidoff. Orbecause of the people that you put six feet under. Not even because you triedto murder two police officers. No, you will suffer because you made me spendthree days trapped in a bunker with that guy there.”

Thorsengrinned, pushing away the weapons on the floor with his foot.

“Now,that is something I'm not willing to forgive,” I said, peeking into the woodenbox under the table. “More guns, Davidoff? Are you into arms trafficking now?”

“I’mnot going to jail,” he said through his teeth, flinching at the sound of policesirens in the distance.

Iglanced at the window, knowing it was the moment Davidoff would attack. Andsince I itched to punch someone, I let him do it. He slammed into me, and weboth hit the wall. I noticed one of Davidoff’s goons reaching for the weaponson the floor, but Thorsen was faster and slammed his head into a closet.Davidoff punched me in the face, just as the second guy pulled a knife onThorsen. A cold sweat washed over me, and I raised my gun to shoot him whenDavidoff pushed me into a window. I heard the glass breaking before I shovedhim away and slammed him into a wall. Davidoff tripped me up, and I fell to thefloor, with him landing on top of me. He raised his fist to hit my face when Isaw a gun pressing against his temple.

“Touchthat face and you’re dead,” Thorsen sneered. His eyes were so pale it seemed asif all the color left the blue irises and only the frost remained. Davidoffprobably didn’t know it, but that look was more dangerous than the gun pointedat his head.

Tenseconds later, Davidoff and his goons were cuffed to the table while I wasblinking the dust out of my eyes. Or maybe it was the heroin.

“Youokay?” Thorsen asked me, walking up to me.

Hecupped my face, ignoring my protest, as his worried gaze settled on theBand-Aid on my forehead.

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