Page 4 of Lethal Bliss

“Who?” I ask stupidly.

“Your friend.”

Richard.The man and I turn at the same time, and we look down the length of the building. Richard is at its end. Just as he rounds the corner, a gunshot roars through the night. He jerks immediately and falls to the ground.

Oh my God.

I have a scream halfway out of my mouth before I strangle it. Years of digging through dirt, grime, and death for the truth have built the reflex that snaps my mouth shut.

The man grabs me and shoves me behind him. He keeps me there as we back away from the window, in the other direction, towards the opposite end of the building. His gun is raised and at the ready as we beat that hasty retreat.

It takes all the restraint I can muster to keep from crying as we hurry backward. Instead, I keep watch behind us, hoping that there’s no one coming around the back from this side of the building to trap us. A six-feet-high chain link fence behind the motel has ensured that we won’t be making any alleyway escapes tonight. So this is our only way out of here.

At the end of the backyard, the man takes my hand to stop me from going around the corner yet. I wait by the wall, down on my haunches, murmuring a silent prayer. Now I’m no longer interested in his identity. All I want is to get out of here alive, and he’s clearly the only one interested in helping me do that.

“Get out your car key,” he whispers.

I dig into my right hip pocket with a shaky hand and pull out my key fob. The dental floss pack falls out with it, and I shove it back in.

The man fires then, right at the bathroom window we’d escaped from.

A scream and a crash reward his effort.

Someone had tried to climb out the window, but I hadn’t seen.

A salvo comes at us from the other end of the building.

I hear two cracks close by before I feel the man fall against my back with a grunt.

He’s been hit.

With that realization, the icy hands of fear clutch at my heart and squeeze hard.

He fires off a few rounds in retaliation before nudging me. “Move.”

I stretch my neck to take a peek around the wall first.

“There’s nobody there yet,” he says and pushes me this time.

I scramble around the corner, and he follows suit.

Thankfully, there’s no shooter waiting by this end of the building’s frontage.

Halfway down the path, the man slips ahead of me. Now he duckwalks fast, still with his gun at the ready.

Was he not just shot now?

There’s no time to think about it or rationalize the fact that he’s still on his feet. I follow behind him, making myself as little as I can while glancing behind me every second. Toward the end of the building, he stops and turns to me. “Ever driven while under fire?”

I shake my head no, baffled that he’d even think to ask me that.

“I’m going to open fire at them now,” he whispers. “While I do that, you run to your car, alright?”

“Right,” I say.

“When you start the car, scoot over to the passenger side,” he continues. “I’ll come join you.”

“Okay.”