Page 111 of Intent to Kill
He squinted as he shot the glass out of the window.
With a towel, Mercedes smashed the remaining glass, leaving them passage to escape.
Another bang, one door to go.
Mercedes was through the window first, taking the long jump down to the pavement, and he followed closely behind. Once they were both out, they ran down the back of the motel block for the street.
He heard the last bang in the distance, but didn’t look back. He just kept running, his eyes fixed straight ahead.
Out of the motel perimeter, they found a quiet suburban street. They kept their pace, running along the sidewalk to gain as much distance as they could. But they weren’t getting far enough fast enough.
Adam rested his hands on his knees to take a breath. “We can’t keep going on foot.”
Looking over his shoulder, he spotted a red convertible parked in the driveway of the decrepit house they were standing in front of. Shitty house, nice car. If that didn’t say something about Ridge City, nothing did.
Adam handed his backpack off to Mercedes as he stalked to the front door of the house. He shot the lock with his silenced gun and kicked the door wide open. It was a 50/50 shot that the keys would be sitting on a hanger by the front door. But it was sure easier to kick down a door than it was to hotwire a car.
An alarm sounded and a man appeared within the house, pointing a shotgun at Adam. He did not have fucking time for this today. Agile as a cat, he punched the man, taking the shotgun for good measure and grabbing the keys in a triumphant fist.
He threw the keys to Mercedes as he made a slow walk to the convertible, so as not to draw attention. Bracing his arms on the window, he jumped over the door straight into the passenger seat, not bothering to secure his seatbelt.
“They’re coming, I can hear them,” Adam said.
Mercedes had the car on the street in a matter of seconds, just as Blake’s men converged in several black sedans that approached from behind, right on their tail, and ready to chase them down to the death.
* * *
MAY 1991
Mercedes changed in her car before she entered the mansion, swapping her gray t-shirt for a blush pink camisole. Over her dark ripped jeans, it wasn’t exactly First Lady material, but it was better than nothing. Aiding the illusion further, she pulled an assortment of shopping bags from the backseat before heading up the stone steps in the driveway.
When she pushed open the grandiose front door, she heard screaming from the back terrace. The guttural cries of pain from a deep male voice sent shivers over her arms.
Without dropping her bags, she headed for the yard. She moved past the grand marbled entrance, into the back ballroom, past the pool, and onto the lookout.
She spotted Dorian and T.B. on the lower level, standing over a man tied to a chair. The man’s face was bruised and bloody, almost completely broken, but she breathed in relief when she realized it wasn’t anyone she knew.
“Honey!” she called. “What the hell are you doing?”
Dorian jumped, like he was actually surprised to see her there, before he turned his back on her even quicker. “Didn’t expect you home so soon.”
“There wasn’t much on sale today,” she said.
“You know you can just buy full price,” he called back.
“Sure, okay.” She left the bags and strolled down the two levels to where Dorian stood on the back terrace. Once she’d approached, she kissed him gently and looked over the bruised man. “Who the hell is this?”
Dorian yanked her shoulder away, pulling her into a quiet huddle.
“This guy knows who Vandemilio’s fifth is,” he said.
Her fists clenched.Does he now?
She looked back over to the guy, then to Dorian again. In his eyes, she didn’t see the wicked smirk of lying that usually gave him away, and she wondered if all this was true and she’d finally been caught.
“The fifth guy of what?” she said, playing dumb.
“On Adam Vandemilio’s crew. I told you I always knew there was a fifth one.” His teeth gritted as he spat the words, but all Mercedes’s focus was on the blood spatter coating his white suit.
