Brain Storm by Cat Gilbert (detective books to read .TXT) 📖

get out of here,” I said, scrambling to my feet and dragging Connors up with me. “We don’t have much time.”

“Shut up, Taylor. You’ll leave when I say and not before. Now sit down.” Keith glared at me and motioned with his gun to sit back down.

I had my hands full with Connors, but my legs were free, and Keith was standing much too close to me for his own good. I took him in the man parts with a shot that made his eyes roll up in his head and the gun drop from his limp hand. The feeling of satisfaction that went through me as he hit the floor almost made me feel ashamed of myself. But not quite.

“The man you shot worked for Hughes, Keith. They’re here to get me. Tonight someone is expecting a delivery. They may or may not know who they’re buying, but you can bet they know where we are and when Hughes doesn’t come out with me, they’ll be coming in. I don’t intend to be here when they do.”

I turned to leave, only to be stopped by the feel of a gun barrel, pressed tight against the back of my skull.

“You’ll leave when he says you leave. Now sit down.” Lars shoved me back down, causing me to lose my grip on Connors, ending us in a tangled pile on the floor, while Lars helped Keith to his feet. “She’s right. They’ll come for her when Hughes doesn’t show up.”

Keith was up, but barely. He was standing with his hands braced on his knees, dragging in deep breaths of air.

“You do that again, Taylor, and I’ll kill you myself,” he hissed out when he finally managed to straighten up. “I don’t care how valuable they think you are.”

He gave me a look, and I knew he meant every word of his threat. If I took him down again, it would have to be for good. The fact that I even thought such a thing, made my head spin. The realization that I would do it, if push came to shove, made it that much worse.

“I’m glad you understand me,” Keith snapped, misinterpreting the look on my face. He pulled the radio from his pocket and thumbed it on. “Get the cars ready. We’re leaving.”

He clipped the radio back on his belt and turned to leave. “Bring them along, Lars. If she causes any trouble, shoot her.” He turned back to give me a parting sneer before he disappeared behind the crates.

We stepped out of the warehouse, and Lars pointed us to the car we had arrived in. Keith was already inside, with the engine running. A second car pulled up next to us as Lars opened the rear door and motioned us inside with the gun. Connors went in first, sliding over to the far door, giving me time for a quick look around before I got in.

Vivian was nowhere to be seen, and I had to assume she had gone ahead. There was one guard manning the gate, and one at the wheel of the other car, so she either took the other guards with her, or they had been killed in the fight. Either way, Vivian had left us short handed. I settled into my seat, wondering if Keith realized what Vivian had done and why.

I leaned over and helped Connors with his seatbelt, before snapping my own into place. I glanced out the window to see the gate opening, the last guard running for the waiting car and wondered how far we would get before the attack came.

We sped quietly through the industrial area, flying past darkened warehouses and empty parking lots. Lars ran through the intersections, ignoring the stop signs without hesitation. Connors hadn’t moved in quite a while. He was either asleep or unconscious, and I was betting on the latter. He’d expended too much energy, and we needed to get him some help. At the moment, that didn’t seem to be much of an option.

I looked behind us to see the other car tailing us, several car lengths back. Close enough to keep an eye on us, far enough back to be able to react. They were running without lights, making themselves a decoy. Anyone attacking, would assume the package was in the rear car, that the lead car was the security team. A plan that would either work for us or against us.

We cleared the industrial area and came into the business district and the first stop lights. Lars would have to slow down now and obey the traffic laws. We were a car load of bloody, battered people. We couldn’t afford to be stopped by the police for running a light.

I expected to see the reflections of headlights behind me as we rolled up to a stoplight and glanced back when they failed to appear. The chase car was gone. I’d given them too much credit. They weren’t a decoy. They were hiding and had taken off the first chance they got. I looked at Lars and saw him glance in the rearview, saw his jaw clench and his hands tighten on the wheel. We were on our own.

It was late, and the streets pretty much deserted, with the exception of a couple of blocks where the bars were located. We were almost out of town, heading for the highway into Denver when it happened. I heard them long before I saw them. The noise pounded through my head, shaking the car windows. The light ahead turned yellow, and I felt the brakes grab as we slowed to a stop and then watched out my window as the car slid up next to us.

It bore little resemblance to the family car it was intended to be. Honda was the gangster car of choice, and this one had been customized to the max. The music blasting out the open windows was loud enough to make my bones vibrate, sending waves of pain through my battered face and head. There was one huge black guy in front, beating out a rhythm on the dash and rocking the whole car in time to the music. I sat watching him, willing the light to change, when suddenly he turned and looked right at me, eyes narrowing in anger.

“What you looking at!” he yelled at me. He was out of his car in seconds, coming around the front of our car, banging his fists on the hood. He was all anger and indignation, pointing and yelling, pounding on the car. I sat paralyzed in my seat, not knowing what to do. Lars was out of the car and moving toward him, drawing his gun. My mind couldn’t seem to get a grasp on what was happening, couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

Lars shot him, taking him down right there in front of the car. He holstered his gun and dragged the body out from in front of the car. Within seconds, he was back behind the wheel, and we were speeding away from the scene, the music fading in the distance. I looked back, the Honda’s headlights barely visible, and prayed that what I had just seen, hadn’t really happened. Because if it had, I had just watched Lars kill Jonas and I hadn’t done a thing to stop it.