Pop!The loud sound was audible over the gunshots. The left front tire deflated until black rubber was flat on the ground.
“Motherfucker!” Van yelled before rearing up. He aimed at RJ but didn’t seem very confident and cursed, ducking back down to hide again.
Everything seemed to be happening a hundred times faster than real life normally worked. I had zero control of anything. RJ already had his gun aimed and took a shot at the Porsche. A hole appeared on the hood that made me think he hoped it would go through and hit Van.
Nothing happened; he must’ve missed.
Van leaned around the front bumper and got off a shot at RJ.
RJ didn’t budge, but blood began to stream down his right calf, staining his suit pants. RJ fired again, and Van spun away, clutching his left ear as blood ran between his fingers in a scarlet river. He disappeared behind the Porsche again.
RJ started forward in a crouch. Blood dotted the ground behind him, and I panicked, frozen in place.
With a loud growl Van hopped out from the rear of the Porsche, and I almost fainted as he aimed his gun directly between my eyes. He squeezed the trigger and there was aclick. I clutched at my chest and watched blood dribble down his neck.
“Move away from him,” RJ said firmly. He had his gun pointed at Van. His hand shook, though, and his face was pale. He limped as he came back around the Porsche.
“Fuck,” Van snarled, shaking his revolver as if it was broken. He tossed the gun at RJ, who caught it. That split second distraction allowed Van to launch himself at RJ, and he went after his injured leg, kicking it. RJ went down with a grunt.
“Fuck this,” I snarled, jumping on Van’s back, but he twisted and knocked me to the ground beside RJ.
“What are you doing?” RJ yelled, and he dropped Van’s gun and dragged me close.
Van took the opportunity to run around and get in the Porsche.
“Fuck,” RJ forced us both to our feet as Van started the car, and he dragged me back into the house.
“Why did you bring us in here?” I shivered. “Shouldn’t we be out there?”
RJ kissed the side of my head. “Wouldn’t put it past the asshole to try and run you over.”
Despite the flat tire, Van put the Porsche in Reverse and backed down the driveway with the rim clunking as it went. RJ strode out as fast as he could and took another shot, which spidered the glass of the windshield. He cursed and shoved his gun back in the holster.
“What are you doing?” I screamed at RJ as he yanked open the driver-side door of the Roadster and hopped in.
“Killing him,” he bellowed before he slammed his door.
I darted over and opened the passenger door. “You’re injured! Stop!”
“So is he.” RJ shook his head at me and revved the engine.
“No, please no. Just stop. We’ll find him again when you’re not bleeding.” I cupped my hands under my chin, begging. My head throbbed and my gut ached. I wanted to go back in the house.
He shook his head, and I plopped in the seat, then closed the door. I grabbed the seat belt and buckled it.
“Get out!” He jammed his finger toward me.
“No!” I glared at him and crossed my arms. “If you’re going, I’m going.”
He shrugged and backed out of his parking spot. “Fuck it, fine. Get the mags out of the glove compartment for me.”
I did as he told me, fumbling to get the little door open. A ring of keys jingled, and I slid them aside, sorting through some papers until I found a small box with a couple of magazines inside hidden underneath everything else. Taking a deep breath, I pulled the ammo out.
“Van knows you. He was close to you.” I tried not to sound too accusing, but I couldn’t help it. He popped the magazine out of his gun while he was turning the car around and handed it to me, and I gave him a new one that he slammed into the gun, popping the weapon down against his thigh to do it and never taking his eyes off the lane.
“Vance did this,” RJ said, pointing at the wicked-looking scar on his neck.
“You had to have known last night when you saw him! Why didn’t you say anything?”
