“No,” Dagan called. Then he added, “Stay where you are!” when the man stopped his diagonal intercept course and turned directly toward them.
“Don’t think I will,” Raincoat replied. Quicker than Chelsea would have thought possible for a man of his size, Raincoat dropped to one knee, pistol raised.
She barely had time to blink, but in that split second Dagan tossed her onto the sand, flattened himself over the top of her, and got off a shot before the other man could. Theboomof the little revolver so close to her ear was deafening. It was immediately followed by a second head-rattling explosion.
Oh my Lord!she thought a little hysterically, two shots equaled two bullets. Theirlasttwo bullets.
Spitting sand from her mouth, she lifted her chin to see a bright-red patch of blood flowering in the center of Raincoat’s chest where the halves of his London Fog flapped open. Even from a distance of fifty feet, she could make out the whites of his eyes as they rolled back in his head. He toppled sideways, his face half buried in the sand.
“Let’s go!” Dagan grabbed her arm directly over her wound and yanked her to a stand. Pain lanced through her, but he didn’t give her time to drag in a breath before he pulled her into a sprint. “We have more company!”
She glanced around and saw two men, one to the north and one to the south. They were both the length of a football field away, but they moved with a speed that left no doubt they were intent on closing the distance and doing it fast. If she wasn’t mistaken, the moonlight glinted off a nickel-plated pistol in the hand of the one to the north.
“Gun!” she rasped, willing her legs to churn faster.When did the beach turn to quicksand?Her thigh muscles screamed with the effort, but every step seemed to get her nowhere.
“I know! Hurry!”
She was trying, damnit!
Without missing a step, Dagan reached down and snagged Raincoat’s weapon as they charged by him. Five seconds later, her boots hit the parking lot’s concrete surface and they ran toward the Renault. Dagan used the butt of Raincoat’s weapon to smash the driver’s side glass. His first blow only created a spiderweb crack in the surface. The second blow was the charm. The tempered glass shattered. He reached in and quickly unlocked the door.
“Get in!” he yelled.
She had to crawl over the gearshift. The wet hem of her jeans got stuck on something, but she managed to unhook it and slide into the passenger seat. When she turned, Dagan was already in the driver’s seat ripping the plastic covering from the steering column.
Her heart was going nuts behind her breastbone. When she lifted a hand to adjust her glasses, she saw how badly it was shaking.
In contrast, Dagan was as calm as a yoga instructor. His fingers flew beneath the column, searching through the various wires. When he found the ones he was looking for, he went to work on the insulation around the wires.
She wondered why he hadn’t chosen the van. Not that it appeared extra speedy or anything, but at least it looked like it had been serviced in the past few years. The Renault on the other hand? Yeah, no. Then again, the little subcompact was too ancient to come equipped with an alarm or antitheft device, so perhaps itwasthe better choice. She’d determine that if and when the crusty thing started.
“Status report,” he said, not looking up from the column. He put the pistol he had taken from Raincoat on the dash, and she noted that the gun black was worn from the trigger. It was obviously a well-loved and well-used weapon. That gave her the willies. “Chels!” he barked. “Status report, damnit!”
“Huh?” She blinked.
“How close are they?”
“Oh, uh…” She peeked out the window. “The one to the south is still fifty yards away. The one to the north…maybe thirty.”
“Okay. Duck down onto the floorboard. This is going to be a close one.”
Oh, Lord! Oh, God! Oh, Jesus!She wasn’t sure if she was really praying as she slipped out of her backpack and folded herself as tightly as she could into the space between the passenger seat and the glove box.
The car smelled like stale cigarette smoke and old oil. Her face itched from the sand clinging to it. And the taste of fear was sour on her tongue. It was odd the things she noticed when she was seconds away from being gunned down and—
Dagan sparked two wires together, and the Renault coughed to life.
Hallelujah!
He wasted no time putting the car in reverse and pulling from the parking spot. He’d shifted into first gear by the time the first bullet blew through the Renault’s metal frame and lodged into the middle of the passenger seat. The passenger seat where she would have been sitting if—
He gunned the little car, working the clutch and shifting through gears. By the time he reached fourth, another bullet slammed into the vehicle. This time, she couldn’t see where it hit. The back quarter panel maybe? Which was good, right? It meant they were leaving the shooters behind.
She peeked up at Dagan. She could see the muscles in his jaw working even through the pelt of his beard. His eyes were as hard as stone.
“Okay to come out?” she asked, her throat unbelievably dry. She swallowed, but she didn’t have enough spit left to do herself much good.
“Give it a few more minutes. I want to make sure we’re not being followed.”
