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a perfect target, what good are you doing?" |
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"Give me a gun and I won't be a target." |
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D.J.'s mouth fell open. "You know how to use a gun?" |
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"Of course. Why wouldn't I?" |
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"You just seemed like the peace-loving type." |
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"I am, but I know what to do with a gun. I assume you have a spare." |
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She nodded, returning her gaze to the black van, which continued to hover like a great black bat in the parking lot. Whoever sat inside was in no hurry to come after them. |
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"Maybe we should just get out of here," she mused. |
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"And maybe they thought of that, and there's someone outside just waiting for us to bolt. The way the van's idling out there makes me think it's the getaway car." |
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"Yeah, you're probably right." D.J. pulled her gun out of the holster. "I hate being a sitting duck." |
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Chris didn't like it much either, especially since he recalled in vivid detail what staring at the business end of a firearm felt like. "You keep watching the van. Where's your other gun?" |
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"My suitcase. Clip's in the side pocket." She kept her gaze focused on the van. "Stay away from the window." |
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"Goes without saying, Halloran." Chris left her to her job and went into the adjoining room. She hadn't finished unpacking and the gun, an older model .9 mm than the one she wore in her holster, rested underneath her clothes still inside the suitcasedirectly beneath her underwear. |
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