She wished she’d asked her dad for help.
She wished she’d texted him and Shayla back at Manzanar—OK, yeah, let’s meet right now, but hey, heads up, I haven’t showered in days, and both Dingo and I smell a little ripe.
Her father wouldn’t have cared.
She wished Lisa had married him, although she knew why her mother hadn’t. He’d loved her too much, and that had scared her. He’d been too honest and honorable.
Too much like Dingo, who dove—“No!”—to put himself between Maddie and Stank’s gun.
The sound of the gunshot was deafening, so much so that she didn’t hear the force of the roof being kicked in as a man—holy shit, that was herfather!—came fast-roping down into the garage like some kind of Marvel superhero.
“Everyone, freeze!” he shouted as he dropped the last few feet onto the concrete floor, and rolled back behind a stack of crates.
Dingo had pushed Stank’s gun aside, and the sheer violence of his attack had knocked both of them over and they were tangled together on the floor.
Dead-Eyes and Eddie had both leapt for cover behind Dead-Eyes’s truck as Stank scrambled out from beneath Dingo, who was motionless on the floor.
“Dingo!” Maddie tried to say. “Ding!” But he didn’t move, and no, no, no, blood was starting to pool beneath him.
“Don’t do it! Don’t move! Don’t make me shoot you!” her dad warned from behind the crates as Stank looked wildly around, from those crates, to the truck that Dead-Eyes and Eddie were crouched behind, to his gun, presumably still beneath Dingo on the floor, to Maddie.
He dove toward Maddie, which meant, of course, her father didn’t shoot as Stank put himself behind her as much as he could. He was sweating as he pressed himself against her, and his breath was foul in her face.
“I’m going to kill you,” she told him, but of course he didn’t understand because her mouth was still covered with that tape.
“Who the fuck areyou?” Dead-Eyes shouted as someone pounded on the door at the front of the garage.
“FBI!” a voice shouted. “Open this door! We have the place surrounded! Come out with your hands up!”
Jesus, that was Shayla at the door!
With the thug named Stank using Maddie as a human shield, and with Dingo possibly bleeding out, Pete knew that shouting “Get back in the truck!” was not going to help the situation. So instead of gnashing his teeth in frustration and fear for Shay’s safety, he used the reckless, foolish, selfless gift she’d just handed to him.
“FBI!” he shouted, too. “Weapons on the floor! Back away from the girl! Now!”
Peter was alive!
Shay had heard that terrifying gunshot, but he was in there, still able to shout, so if he’d been hit at least he wasn’t dead.
Yet.
Her heart pounded as she stood outside the door to the garage.
Up against the frame, in case they start shooting and try to blast you straight through the thing.Harry’s voice in her head was matter-of-fact. Calm.It’s metal, but who knows if it’s reinforced.
The metal door she was banging on was way off to the right side of the bay doors, in the front of the building, and it had a little window that she’d peeked into when she’d approached, first with a quick bob of her head, and then a longer look. It opened into a small, dark waiting area that was cluttered with boxes and awkwardly stacked furniture, with a cracked-open door that seemed to lead into the main garage.
Peter continued to shout. “You have exactly two minutes before the rest of our team kicks in the door!”
Except there was no team. There was only her. She’d called Lindsey, who’d called the police and the real FBI, and God only knew who-all else, but with Shay’s luck, they’d show up, see her holding that gun, and shoother. She should’ve insisted Peter take his gun, instead of leaving it with her.
Focus on right now. Double-handed grip on that weapon, that’s right, be ready for the recoil in case you need to pull the trigger. Just a gentle squeeze. Eyes open, brain on, don’t accidentally shoot Peter or Maddie or Dingo. You got this.
No, she didn’t.
Stick to your skill set,Peter had said. Rushing in, gun blazing?Definitelynot her skill set. She had to get this gun to him—somehow.
“I’m the FBI negotiator!” she shouted as she tucked the thing back into her handbag. New plan: Talk her way inside and then throw Peter her bag. “I’m unarmed! Let me in so we can talk!”
