Trust Me: The Lassiter Group, Book 1 Read Free Page B

first shot missed, but the second nailed him in the side. Since she hadn’t pegged Mr. Unknown—who’d crawled off somewhere—as anything but a tourist, it was good to know her aim wasn’t as far off-base as her instincts.
    Heart drumming against her ribs, she edged behind the counter. She dug another magazine of ammo out of her bag and tucked it into her pocket for the time being before looping her bag over her head and across her body.
    Another of Blackwater’s guys could be waiting outback for her, but she’d have to take the chance seeing as she wouldn’t be leaving through the front.
    Counting on the men’s view of her being obstructed by more overflowing shelves—and to think she hadn’t appreciated Sherri’s determination to use every square inch of space before now—she maneuvered behind a stack of wooden crates.
    Breath held, she waited. The only sound in the shop was the occasional sharp breath—more of a wheeze really—from Snake. With her eyes on the shelf in front of her, she inched backward around the last corner between her and the back hall.
    At the sound of a magazine sliding home, she spun around.
    A gun pressed against her side, and she lifted her head to find Mr. Unknown inches away.
    Who was this guy?
    A ghost of a smile touched his mouth, and then vanished as she nudged the tip of her Glock against the inside of his thigh. One dark brow arched, but she couldn’t tell if he looked impressed or annoyed.
    “I’m on your side.”
    Uh huh. And tonight Santa Claus would bring her a cherry-red Chevy Silverado pickup truck and an all-expenses paid vacation to Maui.
    “Who do you work for?” Her eyes never left his face as she heard the other two men move in their direction. She was running out of time.
    Gunfire ripped apart the model ship display next to them.
    “No one needs to get hurt, Detective. Just come along and your friend gets to walk out instead of being carried in a body bag.” The strained voice came from the right.
    Her friend rolled his eyes, then tipped his head to indicate the hall behind him. “You go, I’ll cover you.” He started to stand.
    Max yanked him back down. “So you can shoot me in the back?” she hissed.
    Splinters of wood skimmed above their heads.
    “Fine.” He sprang up, fired off a few rounds and then crouched beside her. “You cover me and I’ll go.”
    With no way to believe him and Snake and Edward Blackwater closing in, he was the lesser of two evils. She hoped.
    “Better get going.” Before she could argue, he moved around the crate in the opposite direction of the back door.
    There wasn’t enough time to speculate on who he was, or more importantly, who he worked for. A succession of shots plowed into the far wall, and she ran low, sprinting down the back hall. She only hesitated for a heartbeat, unsure if anyone waited for her outside.
    Short on options, she shoved the door open and pressed back against the inside wall. Outside, the private parking lot was deserted.
    At least something was going for her.
    She sprinted across the empty lot, digging her keys from her pocket. With nothing worth stealing in the ancient, battered pickup, she hadn’t bothered to lock the door earlier.
    Breathing hard, she slid behind the wheel, jammed the key into the slot and turned it over. The engine sputtered and died.
    “Son of a bitch.” She cranked the key in the ignition again. The engine coughed, almost caught and quit.
    Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
    On her third try the engine jerked, shook like a bulldozer overdosing on nitro and died.
    Darting a look at the shop’s back door, she realized she hadn’t closed it. Anyone who pursued her would have a clean shot.
    Slamming the heel of her hand on the wheel, she glared at the console. “Start or I’m going to shoot holes in your fucking transmission myself.”
    As if it understood her perfectly, the truck revved to life on her next try.
    Her foot remained on the brake. So go already.
    She glanced once more over