overlooking the town from high up in the mountains. This time, without Katarzyna by his side, he could do something about the instincts that told him he was getting more attention than he wanted.
Jake stashed the grocery bags with the pharmacy bag on the front passenger seat of the 4Runner, relocked the doors and took off down the street at a normal pace. As he turned the corner, he glanced at the reflections in the expansive windows of the sporting goods shop and saw a figure that teased his memory. Crisp blue jeans, black vest over a red and green plaid shirt and dark baseball cap about twenty feet behind him. The light bulb lit up. It was the driver of the white Chevrolet Malibu that he’d allowed to go by before crossing the street to the grocery store.
Of course, this town mainly catered to tourists, and Baseball Cap could just be sightseeing or making a beer run. Jake’s gut, however, disputed that logic.
He lengthened his strides, jaywalked across the street, turned another corner and kept going until the number of potential witnesses thinned.
The next block ahead was dark and nearly pedestrian free. A streetlight was burnt out, shrouding most of the buildings and sidewalk in shadows that blended not quite seamlessly with the night. He scanned the darkened buildings without turning his head, looking for an opening and finding it. Past the third building sat a bar that wasn’t yet in full swing.
Jake came up alongside the bar and quickly turned into the narrow alley that was just wide enough to accommodate the width of two Dumpsters. With his eyes already adjusted to the lack of light, he noted that the only covers were a dark-colored, nondescript van parked several feet inside the alley and a Dumpster farther away. He quickly made his way to the van. It was parked with the front facing the street, so Jake hid himself behind the back, crouching down a little so the top of his head wouldn’t peek over the vehicle and using the tires to block the view of his feet. He would much rather have waited for his unwanted company on the roof of the vehicle, but the darkness wasn’t dense enough for him to risk it.
He stood there in the dark, breathing deeply and silently, heart pounding heavily, every muscle loose and ready as he waited motionlessly.
Long, timeless moments passed and Jake started thinking that maybe he was overly paranoid, but he still didn’t move.
He analyzed and dismissed the non-threatening sounds of people going about enjoying the evening. The slow, uneven click of heels on concrete. A woman’s husky laughter. The heavier tread of male footfalls. Then the rapid beat of hurried footsteps.
These footsteps were different from the rest. They were brisk, purposeful.
Adrenaline rushed through his veins and his senses heightened.
The footsteps rushed past the alley opening. He waited, knowing his tail would double back once he realized that Jake was no longer in front of him.
More seconds passed.
Then those same footsteps hurried back to the alley. Baseball Cap paused hesitantly, probably trying to peer into the shadows of the narrow alley. The footsteps resumed, cautious and measured as they approached the van.
Jake’s fingers curled and uncurled reflexively. Chances were good the man closing in on him was armed and he had to address that first.
Jake counted the footsteps. Close. Closer…just one more.
Then he saw the tip of the gun, matte black and pointed at an angle toward the ground. Jake moved, slower than he would’ve liked, but fast enough. He managed to hook his arm down over his opponent’s forearm and twist away, clamped it tightly against his side and squeezing even as his fingers captured the wrist and dug in between the tendons. While Baseball Cap’s fingers went numb, as he knew they would, Jake jerked his elbow up and back, smashing it into the face behind him.
A startled cry of pain, then the gun fell to
Jake stashed the grocery bags with the pharmacy bag on the front passenger seat of the 4Runner, relocked the doors and took off down the street at a normal pace. As he turned the corner, he glanced at the reflections in the expansive windows of the sporting goods shop and saw a figure that teased his memory. Crisp blue jeans, black vest over a red and green plaid shirt and dark baseball cap about twenty feet behind him. The light bulb lit up. It was the driver of the white Chevrolet Malibu that he’d allowed to go by before crossing the street to the grocery store.
Of course, this town mainly catered to tourists, and Baseball Cap could just be sightseeing or making a beer run. Jake’s gut, however, disputed that logic.
He lengthened his strides, jaywalked across the street, turned another corner and kept going until the number of potential witnesses thinned.
The next block ahead was dark and nearly pedestrian free. A streetlight was burnt out, shrouding most of the buildings and sidewalk in shadows that blended not quite seamlessly with the night. He scanned the darkened buildings without turning his head, looking for an opening and finding it. Past the third building sat a bar that wasn’t yet in full swing.
Jake came up alongside the bar and quickly turned into the narrow alley that was just wide enough to accommodate the width of two Dumpsters. With his eyes already adjusted to the lack of light, he noted that the only covers were a dark-colored, nondescript van parked several feet inside the alley and a Dumpster farther away. He quickly made his way to the van. It was parked with the front facing the street, so Jake hid himself behind the back, crouching down a little so the top of his head wouldn’t peek over the vehicle and using the tires to block the view of his feet. He would much rather have waited for his unwanted company on the roof of the vehicle, but the darkness wasn’t dense enough for him to risk it.
He stood there in the dark, breathing deeply and silently, heart pounding heavily, every muscle loose and ready as he waited motionlessly.
Long, timeless moments passed and Jake started thinking that maybe he was overly paranoid, but he still didn’t move.
He analyzed and dismissed the non-threatening sounds of people going about enjoying the evening. The slow, uneven click of heels on concrete. A woman’s husky laughter. The heavier tread of male footfalls. Then the rapid beat of hurried footsteps.
These footsteps were different from the rest. They were brisk, purposeful.
Adrenaline rushed through his veins and his senses heightened.
The footsteps rushed past the alley opening. He waited, knowing his tail would double back once he realized that Jake was no longer in front of him.
More seconds passed.
Then those same footsteps hurried back to the alley. Baseball Cap paused hesitantly, probably trying to peer into the shadows of the narrow alley. The footsteps resumed, cautious and measured as they approached the van.
Jake’s fingers curled and uncurled reflexively. Chances were good the man closing in on him was armed and he had to address that first.
Jake counted the footsteps. Close. Closer…just one more.
Then he saw the tip of the gun, matte black and pointed at an angle toward the ground. Jake moved, slower than he would’ve liked, but fast enough. He managed to hook his arm down over his opponent’s forearm and twist away, clamped it tightly against his side and squeezing even as his fingers captured the wrist and dug in between the tendons. While Baseball Cap’s fingers went numb, as he knew they would, Jake jerked his elbow up and back, smashing it into the face behind him.
A startled cry of pain, then the gun fell to
Similar Books
