Page 82 of The Twins

“What shitty business do they get up to here?” I asked.

“Nothing good,” Jamie said.

I huffed. We stood either side of the door. “You sure it’s just one bloke in there?” I asked.

“Yep, tall, in a peaked cap, orange trousers, and a Barbour jacket.”

“On a day like today? Bit hot for that.”

“It’s not hot in here.”

Jamie was right. The farmhouse had thick stone walls and little windows. There was a coolness in the air.

“How do you want to do this?” I asked.

“You kick, I go in first.”

“Suits me.”

Jamie knew I had a good technique with kicking through doors, he’d seen me do it enough times.

Adrenaline was surging, and I harnessed it, stepped back, and then did a forward kick with the flat of my foot and shot the old slatted door from its frame. It clattered to the ground, and while I landed from the kick, Jamie, sleek and tall and dressed head to toe in black, Union Jack bandana covering his nose, mouth and chin, rushed in.

“Don’t even think about it, bastard,” he shouted.

It took a split second for me to follow him. My stomach clenched, and a fresh wave of anger gripped me. Peaked Cap Guy was holding the barrel of his gun to the temple of a terrified young woman with long dark hair.

She had wide brown eyes. HerRolling Stonest-shirt was grubby and her jeans torn. Her bottom lip was visibly trembling.

“One more step and she’s toast,” asshole said.

“What do we care? We don’t know her,” I answered with a nonchalant shrug.

Jamie stiffened, but he didn’t say anything.

I looked beyond the guy. There were two more women huddled in the corner. One was crying and shaking in the other’s arms.

“Fuck off. You’re trespassing.” Asshole upped his grip on his hostage’s slender upper arm, his fingers denting her flesh and making her wince.

“What do you do here?” I asked.

“None of your goddamn business.”

“Who are these girls?” Jamie said, gesturing at the two in the corner.

“They’re mine, mine to do what the fuck I want with, now get out of here or you’re dead.

“We’re going to need more information than that before we leave,” I said. “You know, make sure this business is legit.”

“You’re not the fucking police, so what’s it to you?”

“Let’s just say we don’t like seeing vulnerable women preyed upon, and it sure as hell seems that’s what’s going on here.” Jamie’s finger tensed on his trigger.

“I mean it, I’m going to kill her, I’ve killed before, doesn’t fucking bother me, don’t think I won’t do it. I will. I’ll blow her fucking brains out.”

That was enough for me. I aimed my gun at his right kneecap—it was a safer option than his head which was pressed to the girl’s—and fired.

The center of his right leg exploded in a gush of blood, bone, and tendon. He yelled out and doubled over.