Star Witness - By Mallory Kane Page 0,54
weapon. But they needed more than one.
What kind of weapon could he find in a drugstore? Pepper spray or a knife? He hoped like hell the men chasing them would not get close enough that Dani or he would need either of those.
“Harte!” Dani cried.
He rushed toward the front of the store and saw Dani crouched down behind the counter. “What is it?” he hissed.
She gestured at him. “Down! Get down! I saw something moving out there. I think it’s them,” she whispered urgently. “What are we going to do?”
“You saw them? What did you see?”
“I noticed the three-way flashlight was still on. I reached across the counter to turn it off and I saw dark shapes moving across the street.”
The flashlight. It had been on the soft setting, but still. What a stupid, potentially fatal mistake. From the street, the faint light probably looked like a beacon—the only speck of brightness in the unrelenting gray. He’d led their pursuers straight to them, because he’d let himself get distracted by his desire for Dani.
“At least you got it turned off.”
“They must have seen it,” she said shakily. “They know where we are.”
“Not for certain. And we don’t know for sure it’s them.” He laid his hand on her forearm. “But if it is, it won’t take them five minutes to find the back door. Follow me and stay down.”
They headed to the back, keeping low. When Harte opened the storeroom door, he saw that part of the roof had blown off and several pieces of rafters and broken plywood boards had fallen. He was glad they hadn’t stayed back there.
“Stay here. I’m going to check and see if the coast is clear.”
“Take the gun,” Dani said, pressing it into his hand.
“No,” he protested. “I’m not that good a shot.”
“We know they have guns,” she countered. “If they’re already back here, this gun may be our only chance. If you won’t take it, then move. I’ll go out and see if the coast is clear.”
He took it reluctantly, felt for the safety and thumbed it off. “What size magazine do you have in it?”
“Seventeen shots.”
He nodded, then, bracing himself, pushed the door open—or tried to. It felt stuck. What the hell? His pulse hammered. Had they already made it around back and blocked the door? He pushed harder and heard a scraping sound. Through the tiny crack he saw a purple glow. Early dawn. The sky was just bright enough to make the shadows darker.
He slid the door open a bit more, grimacing at the noise made by whatever was blocking it. He was pretty sure he knew what it was. It was big, and had a distinctive hollow sound as it scraped on the ground. It was a plastic trash can—the thick, industrial size.
Finally, he’d managed to move the can enough so he could look around. Then he ducked back in. “I don’t see anything. We need to run while we’ve got the chance.”
“Okay,” Dani said. “Which direction?”
“Straight back, between the two buildings right behind here. I’ve got to find the name of that street. Then maybe I can figure out where we are.”
She nodded.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Ready.”
Dani held her breath as Harte pushed open the door and went through it. She held on to the edge of the door for a couple of seconds. Once it closed, it would lock and they would have no place to hide. They could be picked off like plastic ducks at a carnival.
Harte gestured for her to wait. He quickly surveyed the alley, then moved forward cautiously. “Now,” he whispered.
Dani felt a prickling on the nape of her neck. It reminded her of when she was a child and had to go into a dark room. Just like back then, and in the dark Mardi Gras float warehouse, she felt as if monsters were breathing down her neck.
In front of her, Harte’s wide shoulders gave her a measure of confidence. He believed they’d be fine, and she realized she believed him. She trusted him.
Ten minutes before, when he’d tossed out that unkind remark about her granddad, she’d painted him with the same brush as his father and grandfather. Everything she’d ever heard about the Delanceys depicted them as ambitious, ruthless and violent. Con Delancey had died violently, and Harte’s dad, Robert, was rumored to have as violent a temper as Con.
But every time they were in a dangerous situation, Harte had protected her, so she felt confident and, yes, safe, as she stepped off