Gun Games - Faye Kellerman [101]
The guy was shaking, nursing his arm.
Maybe he grazed him. Good if he did.
Gabe screamed, “Answer me, motherfucker!” He fired off another shot in the vicinity of the asshole’s head. His voice was soft this time. “Did I give you permission to fucking move?”
“No,” he whispered.
Gabe was calm. “If anyone moves, he’s future fertilizer.” He looked at Cameron. “That includes the ladies. Do we understand each other?”
No one spoke. Gabe suddenly became aware of a piercing throb in his right side. Someone must have punched him in his ribs. His eyes and the gun in his left hand traveled from face to face to face, constantly moving so no one was ever out of the picture. Then he realized the reason he was here in the first place. To Yasmine, he said, “Get the fuck out of here.”
She didn’t budge, either refusing to leave him alone or paralyzed by fear.
“Go, Yasmine! Run!”
Instead she shook her head, stubbornly remaining rooted to the spot.
Fucking lunatic! She really was a cuckoo bird, as crazy as he was, with some misplaced notion of going down with him. Gabe kept his right hand on Dylan’s neck and continued to move the gun in his left hand from person to person.
If she wouldn’t leave, at least work with her then. He said, “What time is it, Yasmine?”
“I don’t have a watch.”
“Right. Take my phone out of my pocket.” Gun going from person to person to person.
She did as told—deftly and swiftly. “Twelve to seven.”
Ten minutes to go. Good thing he had taken the time to put in his contacts. Otherwise all they’d have to do is pull off his glasses and he couldn’t see a fucking thing.
“Yasmine, grab the girls’ purses.”
“You’re robbing us?” asked the dude with the weak chin and short hair.
Gabe peeled off a bullet in his direction. “If I hear your voice again, it’ll be the last thing on earth that you’ll ever hear. Got it?”
No response.
To Yasmine, he said, “Take their purses.” At the sound of his voice, she sprang into action. Once she had them in her possession, he said, “Okay, dump their shit in the bushes . . . just throw everything all over the place. Toss it, throw it, kick it. Whatever.”
She did what he told her to do.
When she was done, he asked, “What time is it?”
“Eight to,” she answered.
“Okay, okay. Now go into the dudes’ backpacks and throw their shit all over the place like with the purses. Got it?”
“Got it.”
Yasmine was absolutely perfect. Act first, question later. She dumped out three iPhones and a BlackBerry, four wallets, two crack pipes, several sheets of cigarette rolling paper, several dime bags of weed, a couple of bags of crystal meth, a bag of crack and several bags of E, powders and other pills Gabe couldn’t identify by sight, plus books and schoolwork. She took out the cash and the credit cards from the wallets and dumped them randomly, giving Gabe just enough time to see the bus at the curb.
Immediately, he grabbed Yasmine’s arm with his left hand, the two of them jogging backward, his right-hand gun aimed at the gang.
“Enjoy your scavenger hunt,” he hissed.
Then he turned them both around and stuck the guns in his jacket, the two of them running like the wind until they were at the curb, Gabe pounding on the closing doors of the bus until they opened, and he and Yasmine stepped inside. As soon as they were relatively safe, Gabe discovered his heartbeat, feeling adrenaline pouring into his body. He was shaking harder than Yasmine, who had the presence of mind to pay for the both of them.
They made their way to the back and found two empty seats. Wordlessly, she handed Gabe his phone. He was shaking so hard, he almost dropped it after he punched in the numbers.
The first time the call went to voice mail.
He depressed the green button and tried again.
Please answer. Please answer. Please, please answer.
And when the line connected, Gabe had trouble getting the words from his throat. “Peter . . .” He was panting. “Peter, I’m in trouble.”
It took a moment for Decker to recognize the breathless voice. “Gabe?”
“Yeah, sorry. It’s Gabe.”
Decker’s brain went