Afraid to Die (Alvarez & Pescoli)
Page 66
He fired.
Glass shattered!
Hundreds of dull-edged shards of tempered glass sprayed.
The back window of the Outback was blown apart.
Alvarez ducked behind the front of the car. She felt no searing pain. No blood dripped from her body. How in God’s name had she not been hit?
He doesn’t want to hit you.
He’s toying with you.
The sick creep is enjoying this.
Yanking her weapon from its holster, she clicked off the safety, ready to fire. Protected by the tire, she leaned down to look under the car and gauge Green’s position just as someone rolled quickly beneath the lowering garage door.
The door jerked to a stop!
O’Keefe!
Oh, God, no!
His body still spinning, O’Keefe knocked Green’s legs out from under him.
“What the fuck?” the big man roared, toppling to the cement floor.
Thud! He hit hard. Cracked his skull. He cried out. “Shit! You goddamned cocksucker!”
Blam! Blam! Blam!
Gunshots echoed through the small space! Bullets ricocheted wildly, pinging against the car, splintering the wood walls, skittering against the cement.
Oh, God, no! Dylan!
Frantic, fear galvanizing her, Alvarez crouched and swiftly rounded the front end of the car as the shots went wild, a bullet zinging over her head and splinteri
ng the exposed studs of the front wall of the garage.
Blam!
Another bullet scraped across the side of the Outback before flying off in another direction as the men wrestled, fighting for the gun.
“Stop! Police!” she yelled automatically.
“Fuck off!” Green threw back at her. “Oh, ooo www! You bastard!”
Grunting and swearing, straining, the two men struggled, wrestling across the dirty concrete between the back of the car and the nearly shut garage door.
“Give it up, Green!” she ordered again, her heart in her throat, her pulse pounding in her ears as she inched past the back panel.
Bam!
“Goddamn it!” Green swore, breathing hard.
Thud! Their sweating bodies hit the side wall of the garage. A rake that had been propped in the corner fell down, clattering loudly.
“That’s enough! Green, drop your weapon!” With her pistol in her hand, Alvarez came around the rear end of her Outback. Green, red-faced, cords standing out in his fleshy neck, was still holding fast to his gun, but O’Keefe, smaller but tougher, moved quickly, wrangling the ex-football player down to the ground.