There was a lantern hanging from the front of the parlor, and it was right next to Mr. Ricci’s head. The bullet would break it, maybe hit him with some shards, and definitely scare him into dropping down right away.
Perfect.
Mickey fired.
The lantern shattered, and Mr. Ricci’s head jerked away. There was a noise, some sort of pop, and Mr. Ricci convulsed again. Blood poured down the side of his face.
The glass from the lantern must have…
Wait, no, that was too much blood.
Mickey watched in horror as Mr. Ricci collapsed dead on the sidewalk. It wasn’t possible. He’d only fired one shot, and that had hit the lantern.
That popping sound…
Another sniper!
Mickey heard the first bullet hit the brick by his head, and he tried to roll out of the way. The next one struck his forearm, and he cursed loudly as he ducked beneath the window to take cover.
More bullets flew overhead, pinning him down, and he scowled angrily.
Well, this job had officially gone to shit.
Chapter 8
On his back, Mickey scrambled to disassemble his rifle and put it back in the case. His position had been compromised, and the target he was supposed to not kill was now very dead.
Fantastic.
A mix of anger and panic made his muscles springy and wild, and he ran out of the office building as fast as he could.
Duncan was waiting for him in his car, engine running.
Mickey jumped in. “Drive.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“I’m fine.” Grunting with effort, he threw the gun case into the back seat. “Drive.”
“You’re bleeding, Mickey!”
“Drive!” Mickey roared.
“Okay, okay! Jesus fuck!” Duncan nearly spun tires from hitting the gas so fast, but he slowed down as he pulled out onto the street.
Mickey fumbled around in the glovebox to find some drive-thru napkins, trying to staunch the bleeding. He didn’t know how bad it was, and the blood wasn’t stopping.
“What the fuck happened?” Duncan demanded frantically. “How the fuck did you get shot? Christ, that’s a lot of blood! Mickey!”
“I took the shot. Missed like I was supposed to. Someone else shot Ricci and then shot at me.”
“What the fuck!”
“Keep driving!”
“Fucking where?”
“I don’t know! Just hang on!” Mickey tried to think through the pain. “The safe house! You got it all set up, right?”
