Chapter Eleven
Suds
Shit.As glass rains down from the shattered windows, I tackle my wife to the floor and roll on top.
“Move, move, move,” Wheels shouts.
The lights in the hallway go out, and more gunfire ensues. With Sam under me, I reach for my gun in the safe and thank God I slept with the Bluetooth device in my ear. The door handle rattles and I take aim.
“It’s me. Don’t fucking shoot.” Wheels, on hands and knees, grants us access to the hall and leads us into the kitchen.
He stops at another door with steps going down into the basement. “The police will arrive in five minutes.”
“By then we’ll be dead.” As I speak, bullets smash the coffee pot, the toaster, and the overhead light.
“Go.” I push my wife forward, stand, and rush with her into a musty underground room, lit by one dim bulb.
Eyes wide, Sam circles in the windowless, cinderblock room. “We’re sitting ducks down here.”
“You better be gone, brother.” Wheel’s voice is barely audible over the thundering noise of gunfire.
I kick off my sneakers. “Take everything off, now.”
“What? Why?” She just stands there, shell-shocked.
Dammit. Sometimes I forget she’s not Special Forces. I shake her until her eyes focus. “Babe. You with me?”
With my jeans at my ankles, I unhitch her holster, and lay her weapon on the floor. Next, I tug her t-shirt over her head. Back on planet earth, she removes the rest of her clothes.
“I don’t understand.”
“GPS. Someone must’ve planted bugs on us.” Butt naked, I check her hair and she checks mine.
Convinced we’re clean, I push a wheeled tool box out of the way, and open a trap door. “You ready?”
“Like this?” Her jaw drops.
“Yeah. Go.” I can’t risk us being followed and have no idea if Patten Securities has been compromised.
With my heart hammering, I throw my earpiece onto the pile of clothes and drop into the tunnel lit by a string of white Christmas lights. In front of my face, a pretty ass wiggles and my cock takes notice.
Stand down boy.We’re in a heap of trouble.
About a hundred feet in, the firefight’s volume decreases and my wife’s blond head swivels back. “There’s a door up ahead.”
“Open it real slow-like and stay low.” If I remember correctly, we should be in a garage next to the safe house. Thank God, as we climb out, no one is waiting.
“The key is in the ignition.” Sam’s hand goes for the Ford’s handle but I hold her back.
“Can’t take the risk.” I press a button, the garage door folds, and I stop. A few houses down, a black sedan sits in a driveway.
“There.” I grab her hand and run for it, half expecting to be shot in the back.
Breathing hard, we race to hide behind it as men yell from the safe house. “They’re not here.”
If we don’t leave soon, we may not leave at all. My wife tries all the handles on the vehicle and shakes her head. “Locked.”
Down the road, I weigh our choices. “You any good at stealing a car?”