Page 56 of Luck of the Devil (Harper Adams Mystery #3)

“Okay,” I told James, as I lowered the phone. “We have two choices—make a stand or make a run for it. This morning you said you had multiple guns in the car. Where are they?”

He grimaced. “In the trunk.”

“Shit.” I’d be shot if I tried to open the trunk.

“There’s a nice high-powered rifle back there.” He opened his eyes a slit. “I’m sure you’ve got some experience with one.”

“I do.”

He grinned. “That’s my girl.”

His words made my chest tighten. I told myself I didn’t have time to dissect what he’d just said or the way he’d sounded proud when he’d said it. He’d just suffered a head injury, and for all I knew, he was hallucinating.

“Can you access the trunk through the back seat?” I asked, peering up the hill again.

I didn’t see any movement, but the calm felt like the eye of a storm.

They were probably coordinating their approach, deciding whether to come down shooting or flush us out.

What if they brought enough firepower to turn our cover into scrap metal?

I took small comfort from knowing they wanted at least one of us alive, which meant I needed to hide James somewhere and draw them away from him.

“Center console folds down,” he murmured, his voice strained. “Should be a release latch on the back of it.”

“Okay.” I opened the back door again and climbed into the backseat, making sure to stay as low as possible.

The console opened easily, and a long, padded case sat right next to the console opening.

I maneuvered the case around, pulled it out, and exited the car.

Setting the case between us, I knelt in front of it.

The zipper had a combination lock, which meant he probably didn’t use it on the regular and had it for backup in situations like this. “What’s the code?”

He squeezed his eyes tight, then opened them, looking up at me. “Um… four, nine, two, six, zero.”

I pressed in the numbers, thankful my fingers were steady, and the lock opened with a satisfying pop. As I got to work unzipping, I glanced up at him. “How much ammunition do you have in here?”

He struggled to focus on my face. “I’m not sure. I haven’t checked in a while.”

I took that as a promising sign that it had been a while since he hadn’t used it. After I got the case open, I pulled the rifle out and looked it over. A loaded magazine had already been inserted. I spotted two more strapped inside the case, each holding ten rounds.

Thirty shots total.

Would it be enough? I had no idea how many people with guns were up there, how many bullets they had, or how long we could last down here. There was no way we had thirty minutes. Hell, I wasn’t sure we had thirty seconds before they decided to end this standoff.

It was dark, an advantage for hiding, but it also meant I'd have a hard time spotting them unless they moved. And then, they’d probably be firing their weapons.

He turned his head slightly and stared hard at me. “You should make a run for the trees. I’ll hold them off while you go.”

Outrage raced through me. “What the fuck are you talking about? I’m not leaving you here.”

“Look,” he said, blinking as he tried to focus.

“I suspect if I try to run, I’ll fall flat on my face.

I feel like I’m on a high-speed merry-go-round, and I already want to puke from just sitting here.

I’ll slow you down if we both try to go.

You can run into the trees and bide your time until backup arrives. ”

“Fuck you,” I spat out, good and pissed. “You think I’d just leave you here?”

“You can take the rifle,” he said, ignoring my protest. “Leave me the handgun. I’ll distract them with some shots.”

“Apparently that hit to your head affected your hearing too.” I leaned closer, my anger flaring.

“I’m. Not. Leaving. You. James,” I said through gritted teeth.

“So, if this is your weird way of trying to prove you’re a good person, stop wasting our time.

We need a plan to hold them off, and I suspect you have more experience with this than I do. ”

His mouth stretched into a pained grin. “You really are a stubborn bitch.”

“That’s right,” I said, the muscles in my back beginning to unknot.

I already had a battle to deal with without having to fight him too.

“I heard a car pull up. It sounded loud, so I think it’s the second SUV that jumped out in front of us.

I have no idea what we’re up against, but there’s at least two gunmen up there, probably more.

The fact they haven’t started shooting is a bad sign.

They’re probably planning something. Maybe coming through the trees to surround us? ”

“That’s what I’d do.”

“So, we hope they’re not as smart as you?” I said, half-teasing, but I was already scanning the trees. The headlights of James’s car were still shining in the woods, so at least we knew they weren’t there.

“They’re never as smart as me,” he scoffed, “but I’m not running on all cylinders, so there’s a chance they could get the jump on us.”

“Dammit,” I muttered under my breath, trying to figure out our options. Instinctively, I wanted to put us both back in the car, but if they had high-powered rifles, James’s car wouldn’t provide much protection.

I needed to think like James—ruthless, calculating, always two steps ahead. What would he do if he wasn’t seeing double?

I scanned him over again, reassessing our situation.

We couldn’t stay here, and I couldn’t carry him.

He probably had eighty pounds on me. And if we ran for the trees, they’d pick us off like we were target practice.

Sure, they might not kill us. They might take a lesson from my book and shoot us in the legs.

I needed a distraction, and I’d be damned if James staying behind was it.

“Where’s the flask?” I asked as an idea hit me.

He snorted. “I guess now’s as good a time for a drink as any. Maybe even more so.”

“James. Focus. Where is it?”

He patted around on his chest, but he wasn’t wearing his jacket. “In the car. Side pocket.”

Which meant it could be anywhere since the car had rolled over multiple times. It could have even fallen out the partially open driver’s window. But I didn’t have any other ideas, so I opened the back door again.

“What’re you doin’?” he asked, his voice sounding fainter.

I leaned over and patted his cheek. “Stay with me, James. I’m looking for the flask.”

“I’ll take a drink when you get it.”

“You can have the first one,” I said as I crawled into the back of the car.

I didn’t dare turn my flashlight on, so I patted the seat, then the floor, reaching under the seats and sweeping my hand around so I didn’t miss it.

I was about to try to crawl into the front when the tip of my finger brushed against cold metal.

I stretched my arm out farther, my already sore shoulder grinding painfully against the seat frame, but I ignored the spike of pain as I wrapped my fingers around the canister.

I tugged it free, relief swamping me as I realized it felt at least half full.

I quickly scooted out backward and softly pushed the door closed.

James reached out a hand in an uncoordinated movement. “I’ll take that drink now.”

“Sorry,” I said, still formulating a plan. “I think I’m going to need all of it.” The idea was to make a Molotov cocktail, but a metal flask wouldn’t exactly pull that off.

“This is payback for all the times I cut you off, isn’t it?” he said with a smile, his eyes half closed.

“Yep.” But he was too out of it to notice I was distracted.

Think, Harper. Think. Time was running out, and James wasn’t in great shape. I could hear muffled voices above us.

I glanced over my shoulder and saw the gas cap on Malcolm’s car. I’d considered soaking a rag in alcohol and lighting it, but that might not create the bang I needed. I had no guarantee the gas fumes would catch.

Then a better idea came to me. I could pour some whiskey into the trunk and hope the fire burned hot enough to reach the tank and set off an explosion.

But for that plan to work, we needed to be at least twenty feet away.

The problem was, James could hardly sit upright, let alone sprint twenty feet through rough terrain in the dark.

Which meant I needed a second distraction.

I rose up to peek over the trunk. No sign of movement, which was worse than if I’d seen them. Were they waiting us out, hoping we’d make a desperate move? Or were they sneaking through the trees, closing in around us?

I climbed into the backseat again and found Malcolm’s jacket on the driver’s seat, but I quickly realized it probably wouldn’t work. The lining felt like it might be flammable, but the leather shell would melt. I hadn’t brought a jacket, but then I remembered the clothes in the trunk.

Reaching through the pass-through, I felt around until my fingers found denim—a pair of jeans.

I positioned them near the opening, then kept digging until I found a loose T-shirt—James’s—and my bag.

I pulled my own jeans out of the bag and added them to the pile, then tossed the T-shirt and the rest of the bag out of the car.

I followed, dropping to the ground after it, but as soon as I landed, I realized the fatal flaw in my plan.

“Fuck,” I whispered in frustration. All of this planning didn’t mean shit without something to ignite it. How could I make such a basic mistake?

“James,” I said, moving over to him. A fresh wave of panic hit me when he didn’t answer. “James.” I grabbed his arm and shook.

His eyes fluttered open. “What?”

“Do you have a lighter somewhere in the car?”

He frowned. “No.”

I fell back onto my butt, my eyes closing in defeat.

“But I have one in my pocket.”

I bounced up like a jackrabbit, leaning over him. “ Which pocket?”