Give No Chance (Lawson & Abernathy 1)

“She's dead,” One of them hissed.

“Oh, not again,” Brenda groaned as she recognized the voice.

Vincent kicked Brenda's apartment door open and sprayed a second barrage of bullets. Paulie stepped up beside Vincent and watched as red hot, razor sharp bullets tore Brenda's small living room to shreds.

“You can't hide!” Vincent screamed after he emptied a clip.

Brenda answered Vincent by twisting her body around the kitchen entrance just enough to get a clear view of the living room and firing off four vicious rounds. Vincent spotted Brenda and dove backward. But in doing so, he exposed Paulie behind him. Two searing hot bullets ripped into his chest, and—it was like someone flipped a light switch—he was dead before his body hit the floor.

Brenda didn't leave her secured position. She kept her Glock aimed at the front door and waited for Vincent to reappear.

“One clear shot, you scumbag. One clear shot is all I need.”

“Paulie!” Vincent crawled to his dead body, saw blood dripping from the man's chest and mouth. “You're dead!”

Vincent fished out a spare clip with a shaky hand as he got to his feet and slammed it into his rifle. He stepped into the doorway of Brenda's apartment and began blindly firing towards the kitchen.

Brenda kept low, hearing one deadly bullet after another fly over her head. When the bullets stopped she fired at Vincent, but missed her target. Vincent dove back into the hallway, grabbed Paulie's AR-15 and decided to crawl into Brenda's apartment and try to gain a closer shooting range.

Laying low on his stomach Vincent crawled through the front door, using the living room couch to hide his body from Brenda's view. Once Vincent reached the living room couch, he eased around the back, propped his body up onto one knee, aimed the AR-15 he was holding at the kitchen door and began firing. Brenda ducked down and dove under the kitchen table as bullets shredded the kitchen in half.

“This guy has to die,” she growled under her breath, hearing sharp bullets fly over her head.

Vincent didn't waste all of his bullets. Feeling confident that he had managed to make Brenda back down and take cover, he popped to his legs with deadly intent and ran for the kitchen, entering the kitchen just in time to see Brenda crawling out from under a bullet-torn kitchen table.

“You're dead!” he yelled, aiming Paulie's AR-15 directly at Brenda, completely oblivious to the outside world and that every person in Brenda's building was either hiding or calling the cops.

Brenda spotted Vincent preparing to shoot her. No time...have to kill this scum bag!

With only seconds to spare at the most, Brenda quickly shoved the kitchen table that was looming over her head as hard as she could with her legs. The kitchen table went flying forward. As the table flew forward, Brenda rolled backwards just as Vincent began firing. A line of bullets chased Brenda's body all the way to the refrigerator. Brenda kicked the refrigerator door open just in time to deflect the bullets chasing her. Vincent exploded in rage, threw down the AR-15 and began going for a Glock 19 that was hidden in his jacket.

Brenda shot to her feet and fired off two shots just as Vincent's hands cleared his jacket. Vincent dropped low down and avoided being shot as the two bullets Brenda fired screamed over his head, missing his forehead by a mere inch.

“You're dead,” he hollered, rolling behind the kitchen table that was now spilled onto the floor. “Come on, cop. Shoot me! Come on!”

Brenda ducked low and slid to the side of the refrigerator, putting Vincent's firing position at an angle to her own defensive position. Vincent, who was mad with rage, high on cocaine, and unable to think clearly, began firing at the refrigerator, pinning Brenda down. Brenda remained low and waited until Vincent fired off an entire clip.

Drawing in a deep breath, Brenda knew what had to be done. Putting all fear aside, she rolled away from the refrigerator as Vincent began reaching for a new clip to stick into his Glock 19.

“Shoot me, tough guy!” she screamed.

Vincent slammed a clip full of bullets into his pistol and peeked over the table. Brenda laid in the middle of the kitchen floor, aiming her gun at the bottom of the kitchen table Vincent was stationed behind instead of aiming high. Vincent grinned, eased to his left a few inches in order to clear Brenda's aim, and began to storm to his legs in order to take a clear shot at his victim. Brenda was prepared. She raised her gun just as Vincent tried to line up his target and slipped off two clean shots.

The moment Vincent hit the floor, Brenda grabbed

her cell phone, unfazed by the fight. Killing a few street rats was a job perk.

“Mack, Curanto sent two hit men to knock me off. Yeah, I think they are both dead now. Send a few police that you can trust over to my place.”

Mack stepped out onto the sidewalk. The dirty snow laced with salt matched the gray of the concrete.

“I'll send a couple of guys that I know are okay. I'll get over to your place as soon as I can.”

“See you then.” Brenda let out a deep breath and crawled out of the kitchen.

“Dead,” she confirmed as she felt their pulses. “Looks like Curanto believed his two thugs could clear me out without needing backup. I'm a marked target now.”

Brenda checked the hallway one last time and then removed the black masks from the dead bodies.