The Bleeding Edge by William W. Johnstone Page A

effort, they lifted the big, senseless form and let Chuckie tumble through the open door into the backseat. Stark kept them covered the whole time.
    Jalisco slid behind the wheel. Nacho went around to the passenger door. He opened it and yelled across the top of the car, “This ain’t over, old man! It ain’t anywhere close to over!”
    Then he jerked a revolver from the sagging waistband of his trousers and opened fire.

C HAPTER T EN
    Stark had been expecting a move like that, so he was ready for it. He dropped to one knee as two shots blasted from Nacho’s gun. The bullets were already going high because Nacho had rushed the shots. They whined well over Stark’s head.
    Stark was in the habit of always being aware of his surroundings and being aware of where he was in relation to other things. He knew that Nacho’s bullets would pass harmlessly between his mobile home and that of the Gomezes. Backing up to both of their lots was a big sheet-metal shed where the owners of the park stored mowers and other equipment. The bullets would hit that shed without hurting anything.
    The butt of the shotgun was socketed firmly against Stark’s shoulder. He pulled the trigger an instant after the shots spouted from Nacho’s gun. Buckshot smashed into the side of the car. Behind the wheel, Jalisco let out of a yell and tromped the gas. Nacho had to dive through the open passenger door to avoid being left behind as the car leaped ahead with its powerful engine roaring and wailing like a banshee.
    Stark pumped the shotgun and fired again as he tracked the car. Both taillights went out as the buckshot smashed them to smithereens.
    A door slammed, and Stark glanced over his shoulder to see Fred Gomez charging out of his house. Fred came to a stop, thrust out the .45 automatic he held in his right hand, and gripped his wrist with his left hand to steady it as he fired three shots after the speeding car.
    If this had been a movie, the car would have blown up as one of those bullets struck its gas tank. Stark knew that in real life, that was practically impossible, so he wasn’t surprised when the car careened around a corner with screeching tires and accelerated away into the night like the proverbial bat out of hell.
    It was possible that one of Fred’s shots had penetrated the back window and done some damage, though. Stark supposed they’d have to settle for that.
    His ears were ringing a little from the racket. As the echoes of the shots began to die away, Fred said, “My God, John, thank you! I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t shown up when you did.”
    Stark straightened and pumped another shell into the shotgun’s chamber just in case Nacho, Jalisco, and Chuckie came back. He thought that was pretty unlikely, but it was better to be prepared.
    â€œPeople will be calling to report those shots,” he said, “so I’ll ask you this while I’ve got the chance, Fred. Is Antonio in your house?”
    Fred opened his mouth to reply, then closed it without saying anything. Stark had a hunch his friend had been about to lie to him but couldn’t bring himself to do it.
    â€œYeah, he’s here,” Fred said after a couple of seconds. “He showed up a little while ago. He’s in some sort of trouble, John, and he needs help.”
    â€œWith varmints like that after him, I’d say he must be. You know what it’s about?”
    â€œNot really,” Fred replied with a shake of his head, and Stark thought he was telling the truth.
    â€œLet’s go have a talk with him and see if we can’t figure something out.”
    Fred looked like he wasn’t sure about that suggestion.
    Before they could move, Alton Duncan came trotting up, carrying a .22 rifle.
    â€œHey, are you guys all right?” Alton asked.
    â€œWe’re fine,” Stark said. “Some fellas tried to break into Fred’s