The stick figure drawing in front of my nose gives me an idea. I pull on the yellow handle near the warning, and like the picture with the red X, liquids gush to the floor. Staying low, I scoot around to the next vat and do the same.
As I run to the third, an automatic weapon fires, women scream, men shout, and everything goes dark.
Chapter Seventeen
Suds
“Go, go, go.” The electrical box destroyed, I grab Dash’s arm, rush him out of the office, and as we hug the perimeter, I swivel toward a whirring noise behind me. Holy Fuck. In a scene worthy of Stephen King, the pile of decapitated heads comes alive.
As lids open and yellow backlit eyes track our movements, I push Montclair forward into the dark interior. Unnoticed, we reach the middle of the main room and drop to the wet floor as flashlight apps pop on. Like opening night on Broadway, beams scan the rafters and the walls. Waiting for the right moment, my finger rests on the trigger of the dead man’s automatic weapon but the panicked workers stay focused on the water pouring out of the vats.
With everyone occupied, I poke my client’s back and point to the door. Squatting beside me, he shakes his head no, and holds up his pistol. No time to argue, I climb an old wooden ladder to the ceiling and inch along a beam to the center of the room. Below, women grab rag mops and buckets while armed men call out to each other, searching.
Where are you, Sam?
Relief shoots through my nervous system when multiple vehicles crunch on the gravel and come to a halt in the parking lot. From my perch, I prepare to back up my pals but it’s not them who rush through the door. Pissed as homeless hornets, the strangers take in the scene. Funny how a dressing down sounds much the same in any language.
As I search for my wife, Hands speaks in my comm. “DEA is a minute out.”
I wish I could respond, but to do so would mean a bullet through my brain. Despite this, a moment later, I almost shout a warning when I spy Sam crouched between two machines. She’s tried to cover herself with fuzzy bodies, but it won’t be long before someone spots her.
Sullen, angry armed men circle the floor. I can only imagine how badly their fingers itch to let off steam. At a commotion near the loading dock, some rush out the back door but three stop and talk directly below me, in front of the line of washer-dryers.
Dammit Sam, don’t move.One sees her, raises his weapon, and I drop from the ceiling. As I land on top of him, a gun fires close to my ear and deafens me.
Chapter Eighteen
Sam
I made myself as small as possible and hid under Smart Sissy bodies, but the guard spotted me. Praying, I aimed between my knees, fired, and as I did, a body dropped from the ceiling.
Suds? Oh my God. Did I hit him?
Guns pointed at the floor, the other two Asians watch the scuffle taking place, no doubt waiting for a clear shot.
I can’t let that happen. “Drop your weapons.”
Both arms forward, I steady my right wrist, and as the men swivel, I shoot the closest. The next split second is more like a minute. My finger releases from the trigger, another gunshot sounds, and I turn to the other astonished guard, staggering backwards.
Running my palms over my chest, I check for a wound. Dry hands return to my face and no escalator descends from heaven. I’m either hell bound, or I’ve got unfinished business and my ghost will haunt this warehouse until someone frees me.
“Sam?” My hubby, face flushed, rushes to my side.
“You can see me?” A test, I hug him and when my arms don’t pass through his corporeal body, I wonder why.
“Babe? You with me?” Tilting up my chin, his concerned gaze searches mine.
“I’m not dead?”
“No, but we will be if we don’t take cover.” He grabs my arm, pushes me back down between the dryers, and squeezes in front of me, his butt crack showing.
“I can’t see.”
“Good. Keep your damn head down.” He discharges his weapon and as others return fire, bullets ping off the metal.
Shit. I lift my eyes ever so slightly and a bullet comes so close, it tears off some of my ponytail. Dammit, we need help now.
Remembering Patten always has our back, I press my comm unit. “Hands. We’re pinned down inside the warehouse, between the appliances.”
