Page 317 of 7+Us Makes Nine

Well, I tried.

I edged towards the back of the car, guessing the guy’s aim was trained at the front, where I’d been moments earlier. The guy looked like he could barely stand, let alone shoot straight. I chose my moment. Popping up, I held a gun in a two-handed grip.

The guy was aiming his gun at the front of the car, as I’d guessed. I shot him coolly in the head and chest, the sound of two bullets cracking loudly off of the buildings in front of me.

I jumped over the trunk and was spotted as a large figure stepped from the door, gun aimed at me. I recognized Sharky instantly.

He was edging towards me, sharp eyes looking over the top of the gun.

He had me beat.

Shit. Jumped too early.

I landed on my feet, and as I looked up he was grinning at me.

“Jack. Raise that gun and you’re dead. I know you got a jacket on, right? Well, I’m aiming for your head.” He was smiling in triumph, eyes cold.

“You’ve caused a massive headache for us, me and Conall. He wants a word with you. Got an offer for you.” He glanced at my gun.

“Oh, and drop the gun any others you got if you wanna see Eden again.” His small, black eyes fixed on mine.

“OK. You got me. I’m gonna put my gun on the ground. Nice and slow, then I’m gonna kick it away. It’s the only one I got.” I lied and stretched slowly, placing my gun on the floor. I kicked it towards him and metal scraped across the concrete surface of the parking lot.

“You better not be lying, pig,” he said in a flat voice, edging closer to me.

“I ain’t lying. You can search me if you want.” I shrugged, casually.

“Police budget, you know! It was the jacket or the spare gun!” I laughed loudly, and his eyebrows raised. His gun lowered a fraction as he approached, taken aback by my casual demeanor.

I spotted my chance. The image in front of me seemed to freeze in my mind. I lowered my hands to just above my hips, palms facing outwards. His gaze followed my hands, eyes narrowing.

We stood there, facing off against each other. My legs were spread wide, knees bent slightly.

Now.

My hand flashed like lightning into my pocket, pulling the gun from the inside left of my trench coat. I clicked the safety off as my hand drew it out in a well-rehearsed move.

My gun was aimed at him before he had time to react. I unloaded the full clip at his chest in a matter of seconds, walking forward as I shot fifteen bullets into his torso. He flinched with every shot, falling back as he died. He managed to get two shots off at me as he fell. One went harmlessly wide. The other grazed my chest. I grunted as I felt a rib crack.

I slipped the clip out and slammed a new one into the gun as he hit the concrete. Blood poured from fifteen wounds in his chest. He was dead before he hit the floor.

Conall was in the doorway in front of me, his eyes wide with amazement at the scene he’d just witnessed. I aimed my gun at him, eyes glaring.

“Conall! Drop the gun. It’s over. All your men are dead or arrested. Come on, now.” I edged forward.

“Jack. It ain't over until I say it's over! You hear! I got an offer for you. Let's talk, me and you. Make a deal.”

I laughed at him and his pitiful, pleading expression. I looked into his eyes. I saw nothing but an evil man, cornered and begging.

“I’ve got an offer for you, Conall. Drop the gun. Get on the floor. Or, I’ll shoot you. See what I did to your friend here? That could be you too, if you want. Your choice. Ain’t no third option.” I stopped edging forward, clearing my mind as I waited for his response.

“There’s always a third option, Jack! You ain’t taking me down! You don’t get away with screwing with the O’Rourkes!” His arm raised slowly, and I waited with baited breath for him to move.

Then something bizarre happened. A full beer can came flying from the corner of the room, hitting him in the side of the head with a loud, tinny thud. He looked to his right.

“You fu…”

I took my moment and shot him in the right shoulder twice, and the left shoulder once. He staggered back, gun dropping to the floor.

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