Without Fear - Reese Knightley Page 0,43
into the bag, Macy had produced a ham and cheese sandwich piled high between two huge pieces of homemade bread and held it out. The man’s eyes had widened as he took the food.
“Is this homemade?”
“Courtesy of Bailey’s Café.” His smile grew when Logan’s thanks had been muffled around a huge bite of food.
Echo had nuzzled his nose beneath his arm and Macy had laughed. Digging into the bag, he’d unwrapped a beef bone with some trimmings still attached and held it out. The large dog had gingerly taken the bone from his fingers and laid next to them on the grass to gnaw on it.
“How’d you know we were going to be in town?” Logan eyed the bone before taking another big bite.
Macy had dug into his small ice cooler and produced one root beer for himself and a Dr. Pepper for Logan.
“Elijah told Justin you were coming. And since you make it a habit to seek me out, I made you both lunch,” he’d replied with a smirk. “Since you ate mine last time.”
“I did not!” Logan had argued.
“Did so.”
“Did I?” The man’s eyes had twinkled.
“You know you did.”
“I could have sworn you gave me your lunch.” Logan polished off the sandwich.
“Oh? Is that how you remember it?”
A door slammed, jogging him back to his darkened bedroom and he drew a foot to the bed and hugged his knee. Swallowing past the lump in his throat, he pulled a hand down his face.
He hissed before stretching out his leg and stroking his injured thigh. It ached through the bandage. Tucking his phone back into his pocket, he eased sideways on the bed.
The faint sound of arguing came from the living room.
“Damn it!” Stanton shouted, bringing Macy rolling from the bed, his backpack gripped in one hand. He pulled the Glock from his nightstand and stalked to the door.
He cracked it open just enough to see what was going on. Stanton and Flint were in the hallway, but there were two other shadowy figures standing beyond. What the hell? What had happened to the lights? While it wasn’t totally dark, it was enough to have his senses on high alert.
Stanton gripped Flint by the throat and glanced down the hallway.
“Run, Macy!” Stanton shouted just before one of the men behind Flint lifted a gun with a long silencer attached and shot Stanton in the head. The big man crumpled to the floor.
Bile clawed at the back of his throat. Macy lifted his Glock and put two in the man who had shot Stanton.
Flint turned and fired; bullets cleaved into the door. Another man stepped up beside Flint and opened fire. Macy fired off several rounds, causing the pair to dodge back.
He slammed the door shut and twisted the lock. With the thick door stopper he’d purchased on Amazon, he wedged it tightly beneath the bottom of the door.
“Get him!”
“Macy? This is a mistake. Stanton was on the take,” Flint loudly yelled.
Fuck that!
He slipped his Glock into his pants and yanked on his backpack before running to the window. He slid it upward and silently slipped out before he shut it. He went up the fire escape instead of down.
Fuck Flint. No way in hell was Stanton on the take. Stanton had only wanted to protect him and now he was dead. Grief soured his gut, but there was no time for that now. He’d save breaking down for later.
After he disappeared.
Racing across the apartment roof to the other side, he took the fire escape down. A pain sliced into his thigh when he dropped to the ground, but adrenaline kept him going. He jogged, limping down the alley and over two blocks to the south, grateful for the dark clothing. Taking another fire escape upward, he hurried through the cool Idaho night.
Reaching a large air vent, he withdrew his utility knife from his backpack and used the screwdriver to open the vent. He slapped around inside until he found the string of a large duffle bag and pulled it out.
He dumped the contents. A gun thumped on the ground near his feet and he set that aside. The gun was registered in his new name and he had a license to carry thanks to Stanton, but it was only good for the state of Idaho. He found the small fold of a passport and opened it.
The name was Mark Gleason along with his picture. He tucked that into his pocket and the thousand dollars in cash. He turned on