Page 123 of Luck of the Devil
“Skeeter,” Carter said, sounding tense when he answered. “Give me an update.”
“It’s Harper,” I said, keeping my voice down as I scanned the hill again. The sniper up there was making my skin crawl.
“Where’s Skeeter?” Carter asked, barely disguising his panic.
“We were run off the road, and he’s got a concussion. He’s talking, but his head is killing him.”
“We have more pressing concerns,” James grunted, one hand pressed against his temple like he was trying to keep his skull from splitting open.
“There’s a gunman at the top of the hill,” I said, “and he’s already killed the buddy he sent down to pick us off. I’m worried he’s called for backup. Supposedly, the SUV that jumped in front of us took off, but they couldn’t have gotten far enough away that it would take long for them to come back.”
“Where are you?”
I shot James a questioning look.
He grimaced. “County Road 82.”
“But we’re down a hill,” I said, “so I doubt anyone driving on the road would be able to see us.” I heard the sound of a car engine in the distance, coming closer.
“I’ve put out word you need help,” Carter said, “and while it’ll be faster than I originally thought, they’re still at least a half hour away.”
I highly doubted we had a half hour. Especially when I saw headlights sweep the incline above. The car engine, which was now near us, shut off. I pressed myself flatter against the car, hoping the shadows would hide us. We were sitting ducks.
“Well, tell them to hurry,” I said, my heart beginning to race. “Because backup just arrived, and I don’t think they’re on our side.”
Chapter 32
“Okay,” I told James, as I lowered the phone. “We have two choices—make a stand or make a run for it. This morning you said you had multiple guns in the car. Where are they?”
He grimaced. “In the trunk.”
“Shit.” I’d be shot if I tried to open the trunk.
“There’s a nice high-powered rifle back there.” He opened his eyes a slit. “I’m sure you’ve got some experience with one.”
“I do.”
He grinned. “That’s my girl.”
His words made my chest tighten. I told myself I didn’t have time to dissect what he’d just said or the way he’d sounded proud when he’d said it. He’d just suffered a head injury, and for all I knew, he was hallucinating.
“Can you access the trunk through the back seat?” I asked, peering up the hill again. I didn’t see any movement, but the calm felt like the eye of a storm. They were probably coordinating their approach, deciding whether to come down shooting or flush us out. What if they brought enough firepower to turn our cover into scrap metal? I took small comfort from knowing they wanted at least one of us alive, which meant I needed to hide James somewhere and draw them away from him.
“Center console folds down,” he murmured, his voice strained. “Should be a release latch on the back of it.”
“Okay.” I opened the back door again and climbed into the backseat, making sure to stay as low as possible. The console opened easily, and a long, padded case sat right next to the console opening. I maneuvered the case around, pulled it out, and exited the car. Setting the case between us, I knelt in front of it.
The zipper had a combination lock, which meant he probably didn’t use it on the regular and had it for backup in situations like this. “What’s the code?”
He squeezed his eyes tight, then opened them, looking up at me. “Um… four, nine, two, six, zero.”
I pressed in the numbers, thankful my fingers were steady, and the lock opened with a satisfying pop. As I got to work unzipping, I glanced up at him. “How much ammunition do you have in here?”
He struggled to focus on my face. “I’m not sure. I haven’t checked in a while.”
I took that as a promising sign that it had been a while since he hadn’t used it. After I got the case open, I pulled the rifle out and looked it over. A loaded magazine had already been inserted. I spotted two more strapped inside the case, each holding ten rounds.
Thirty shots total.
