But as I drove through the quiet Philly streets, I didn’t see any motorcycles or hear their engines. Nobody followed, nobody got in my way. I was terrified they wouldn’t attack, which would mean we went through all this trouble for absolutely nothing, and I’d have to come up with some other idea to save face. On top of that, we got the Leones to agree to help out, which meant Owain cashed in a favor. I hated to imagine that his favor would come to nothing and we’d end up with only a couple bags of rocks to show for it.
I turned onto Shunk Street deep in the south and rolled past a strip mall parking lot. Houses appeared on either side with lots of green and pretty comfortable-looking brick front porches. It was one of the nicer parts of the city I’d seen, and I took a second to slow down and gape at the park that appeared up ahead. It was a gorgeous well-manicure green space with concrete walkways and bright street lamps and a historic-looking house set out in the middle of the park. I wondered what the hell that house was doing out there—
When a truck pulled out in front of me.
I had to slam on the brakes. I was about to lay on the horn when the doors opened on either side of the cab and two guys stepped out wearing jean jackets and denim pants.
“Owain,” I said.
“It’s them.”
“It’s definitely them and they’re coming for me.”
“Stay calm. Don’t move. Do what they ask.”
“Owain—” I sucked in a breath as I recognized the man on the left. It was Clifton with a big smile on his face as he approached my window, his gun held loosely in his hand. The other guy had a pig-like nose and a bushy mustache, and lingered on the passenger side, trying to see into the back of the van, but it must’ve been too dark.
“Window,” Clifton shouted. “Window down.”
I rolled it down and stared as he pressed the gun against my face.
“Bags.”
I nodded. “I’ll do it slow.”
“Get the fucking bags, girl.” He stared at me, eyes narrowing. “You shouldn’t have done this alone. What the hell was Owain thinking, sending you?”
I reached over and grabbed one of the duffel bags. It was heavy as hell and I hefted it up, trying not to show how much I had to strain. Clifton frowned as I flung it at him, using all my core strength to throw it out the window. He was caught completely off guard and the rocks smashed into his chest, knocking him back a few feet. He let out a surprised and painted grunt as I took off my seatbelt and dove over the seat. When I landed face-first, the back door swung open, and Piggy stared in at me.
Owain unloaded on him. He staggered back, shock in his eyes as red bloomed in his chest. My hands shook like crazy as Owain moved forward, looking haggard and tired, but kicked Piggy to the ground as he leapt out of the back and landed in the street. He turned toward where Clifton was—but a second car came screeching up behind us. Owain fell back, turning around to the other side of the van, and opened fire on the Jackals that spilled out from the car. I counted three of them and threw myself back over the front seat, ladning on the passenger side floor. Bullets whizzed around, slamming into the car, pinging off the street, and smashing into houses all around us.
I reached up and released the glove compartment. My little gun fell out and I managed to grab it and pick it up. I heard Owain shout something as he returned fire, but we were outnumbered by a lot and he was pinned down. I had to do something before the Jackals overwhelmed us completely.
I crawled across the front seat and pushed open the driver side door. I managed to get out, face-first, catching myself on the pavement. I stayed down as the deafening gunfire continued, then looked up—and saw Clifton standing a few feet away, his back to me. He peered around the side of the van, clearly looking for Owain, and hadn’t heard me get out over all the gunshots. I got up and walked toward him at a crouch, trying to stay calm.
He turned at the last second, but by then it was too late. I pressed my gun against his head and his eyes went wide. His barrel pointed down at my stomach, and for one agoninzing second, I thought he might take the shot even though it would mean his life. I might survive, or I might not, but he’d go down either way. He must’ve done that math and held his fire.