The Millionaires - Brad Meltzer [82]
A loud splat smacks against the window. We both duck down. The noise stays loud—rat-a-tat-tatting against the glass—like someone breaking in. I look up to see who, but the only thing there is a starburst of water. It pummels the calendar-covered glass and quickly drips down the pane. Sprinkler… just the sprinkler.
“Someone probably tripped on the hose…” Charlie says.
I’m not taking any chances. “Check outside,” I insist.
I run to the small window in the kitchenette; he goes for the one near the door. The sprinkler’s still barreling against the glass. I peel back a piece of the calendar and peek outside… just as a blurred figure darts below the windowsill. I jump back, almost falling over.
“What? What is it?” Charlie asks.
“Someone’s out there!”
“Are you sure?”
“I just saw him!”
Staggering backwards, Charlie does his best to fight fear, but even he’s not that good.
“Do you have the—?”
“Right here,” I answer, reaching down and grabbing the gun from my pants. I cock back the pin and put a finger on the trigger.
Stuck in the kitchen, Charlie rummages through the drawers, looking for a weapon. Knives, scissors, anything. Top to bottom, he rips open each drawer. Empty. Empty. Empty. The last one slides out and his eyes go wide. Inside is a rusted machete, broken in half so it fits perfectly in the drawer.
“Blessed are the drug dealers,” he says, yanking it out.
As he takes off, I follow him through the main room and into the bathroom. Just like we worked out last night. Tiny efficiencies may be too small for back doors… but they still have back windows. Leaping on the toilet, he cranks open the cheap window and punches out the screen. I hop up next to him.
“You go first,” Charlie says, cupping his hands to boost me up.
“No, you.”
He won’t budge.
“Charlie…” The tone and my scolding eyes are all mom. He knows it’s been ingrained since birth—protect your little brother.
Realizing it’s a fight he’ll never win, he tosses out the machete and steps into my boost. Up and out—he’s gone in an instant. Another perfect landing. I follow, though I almost kill myself on the landing.
“Ready to run?” he asks, rechecking the narrow concrete alley created by the building ours backs up to. On our left is a swinging metal gate that leads back to the street; on our right is an open path that snakes around to the main courtyard—right where they’re hiding. With a shared glance, we scramble toward the gate… and quickly spot the metal chain and padlock that keeps it shut tight.
“Damn,” Charlie whispers, smacking the lock.
I motion with the gun. I can shoot it open.
He shakes his head. Are you crazed? They’ll hear in a second! Without thinking, he takes off toward the other end of the alley, and I grab him by the arm.
“You’re gonna run right into them,” I whisper.
“Not if they’re already inside… besides, you got a better way out?”
I look around, but there’s no arguing with impossibility.
C’mon, Charlie motions. He speeds down the alley, sticking to the patches of dried-out grass to keep quiet. At the edge of the building, he stops and turns my way. Ready?
I nod, and he peeks around the first corner. All clear, he signals, waving me forward.
Like burglars in our own backyard, we slip down behind the building, ducking under the windowsills. Around the next corner is where we saw him. I hear the stream from the sprinkler still gushing against the glass. The sound drowns out our own footsteps… and whoever’s waiting for us there.
“Let me go first,” I whisper.
He shakes his head and shoves me back. He’s done letting me play protector. I don’t care. Squeezing in next to him, I check the ground for stray shadows and slowly stick my head out. Around the corner, a discarded jump rope sits on the lawn, right next to a