Honeymoon - James Patterson [75]
Fuck me, I’m hit.
The phone dropped from my hand, and for a split second I froze. Were it for a full second I would’ve been dead.
Instead, instinct took over. I rolled to my left, away from the door, out of the line of fire.
Nora’s third shot exploded through the door and took apart the tile on the wall where I’d been a second before. It would’ve caught me smack in the chest.
“How do you like that, O’Hara?!” she yelled. “That’s my insurance policy!”
I said nothing. To talk was to invite another bullet. I waited for Nora to say something more, but she said nothing.
The only sound was the muffled, tinlike voice of the 911 operator coming through my phone lying on the floor.
“Sir? Are you there? What’s happening?”
Or something to that effect. I couldn’t tell for sure. I didn’t care. The only thing that mattered at that moment wasn’t the phone.
Slowly I pulled in my left leg and raised the cuff on my pants. I hadn’t packed a toothbrush for the night, but I was packing something else.
I undid the holster and removed the Beretta 9 mm. If Nora had thoughts of storming in, I’d be ready for her.
I gripped the gun in both hands and waited.
Where are you, Nora—love of my life?
Chapter 99
EVERYTHING WAS SILENT in the cabin, including my phone. Nine-one-one had my name, and though I hadn’t given my location, the satellites would. Assuming the operator did the right thing. She alerts her supervisor, supervisor alerts the Bureau, Bureau gets the coordinates pulsing from my GPS-equipped phone, and the closest police unit is dispatched. Sounds so simple.
I just had to make sure I was still breathing when they got here.
It raised the question Why didn’t I fire back at Nora?
I knew why. I just didn’t know what to do with the answer.
I tried to get up off the bathroom floor without making any noise. The excruciating pain in my shoulder didn’t exactly cooperate. I tiptoed to the door and slumped against the wall. One hand held the gun; the other reached for the lock on the knob. I turned it slowly.
I took a deep breath and blinked several times. I didn’t know if Nora was still on the other side of the door, but I had to find out. My one advantage—the door opened away from me, toward the hallway.
Three.
Two.
One.
With everything I had left, I shouldered the door. It flew open.
I barreled out, low and tight to the ground. Gun drawn. I swung my arms left and right, looking for any movement. I lined up a lamp. Then I nearly took out my own reflection in a mirror down the hall.
No Nora.
I stepped sideways down the hall in the direction of the kitchen. “You’re not the only one with a gun,” I called out. “I don’t want to kill you.”
Nothing from her.
I came to the living-room doorway. Gave it a fast peek-a-boo look.
No movement. No Nora.
The kitchen was a few steps away. I could hear something. A creaking. Footsteps. She was there, waiting for me.
I opened my mouth to say something. But I didn’t speak a word. The dizziness hit me so fast. I reached for the wall, tried to steady myself. My knees were rubber.
I could still hear the creaking. Was she coming? I raised my arm and pointed the gun. The barrel was shaking. More creaking. It was getting louder.
Christ, O’Hara!
That’s when I put it together. The creaking was actually crackling. What gave it away was an awful smell. Something was burning.
I edged to the corner of the kitchen doorway. Chanced a quick peek. I saw the pot on the stove, and smoke. The leftover rice had been simmering on the burner. Now it was burning up.
I exhaled. Then I jumped!
It was the sound of a door slamming. Outside. Nora getting away?
I hobbled out the cabin as the engine of the Benz roared. My first step down the old wooden stairs missed. I went flying forward. Landed on my side. Knocked the wind out of me; pain like I couldn’t believe.
Nora shifted into gear as I scrambled to my feet. For a second she glanced over her shoulder—our eyes met.
“Nora. Stop!”
“Yeah, sure, O’Hara. Stop in the name of love?”