Busted Read Free

hands went over his head like they could magically stop a bullet.
    The idling Chevy.
    The get-away vehicle.
    The driver stood outside the open door to the truck. He started shooting wildly into the store. Bullets zinged off the floor, ricocheted into the snack displays.
    Will reached for the Glock. The cop’s hand snaked out and grabbed it before Will could. Even flat on his back, he wouldn’t give up his weapon. Another bullet whizzedpast Will’s shoulder. There was no time for reasoning. Since Will couldn’t grab the Glock, he grabbed the bag of cash. He ran down the aisle, hiding behind the end cap as linoleum tiles splintered behind him.
    Silence descended. Like time, sound was defying the laws of science.
    Slowly, Will was able to pick out some familiar noises. The idling engine of the Chevy was like a broom sweeping up asphalt. The heavy, snare-drum pounding was his heart trying to break out of his chest. The rat-tat-tat was the breath panting out of his mouth. Will looked down at the bag of cash in his hands like it could explain to Will why he’d grabbed it. And then for no reason at all, he looked back up at the Icee machine.
    The red light was flashing again.
    Motherfucker.
    Glass crunched. The driver was inside the store. Will’s eyes automatically locked onto the fish-eye mirror. He could see the second shooter, so the second shooter could also see him.
    Everybody wanted to think they were Rambo in a situation like this, but the fact was the only thing going through your mind was that you were probably going to die. Will debated how to go out. Should he throw the bag of cash at the man, hoping that’s all he wanted? Should he just stand up and take the bullet to his chest on the off chance that all the major arteries would be missed? Should he just stay curled into a ball and piss himself like every bone in his body was telling him to do?
    One single gunshot rang out. Will stood up. This wasn’t instinct or training, but just blind hope. The shot was either the cop shooting the driver or the driver shooting the cop. It didn’t really matter. This was Will’s only chance. He lunged into a full run. Hekept his body low like a linebacker going for a tackle. The driver was either distracted or shocked or just plain stupid, because instead of shooting Will in the face, he stood there with his mouth open in surprise until Will’s shoulder slammed into his gut.
    The force pounded them both into the floor. Will tried to grab onto the man, but he was wiry, and he bucked like a horse. Will got in a few punches before the driver’s elbow swung around like a rotary blade. Will’s nose exploded. That was the only way to describe it. The pain was debilitating. He saw literal stars. He was too stunned to do anything but bleed, which gave the driver the opportunity to push himself up from the floor. Will struggled to do the same. It was no use. He shook his head like a dog. Horked up a wad of blood from the back of his throat.
    The driver ran toward the door. There was a wail of sirens in the distance. Will could see the guy heading for his truck. After a few false starts, Will ran after him. His boots cracked against broken glass. He jumped over the cop’s body. The asshole was still holding tight to his Glock. Will didn’t bother with the gun. The Chevy was barreling toward the road, which was less than fifty yards from the interstate.
    Will jumped on his bike. He kicked the starter and revved the engine. The bike bucked from the sudden surge of power, but Will held on tight, opening the throttle wide as he shot out into the road.
    He nearly rammed straight into a Mercedes. Morning rush hour was out in force, cars streaming into the various fast-food restaurants lining the exit. Will darted in and out between cars, narrowing his eyes to keep out the bugs and dirt spitting up from the road. He heard sirens behind him, but knew that his bike was their best chance to keep up with the Chevy. Ahead, the man drove with