Hit and Run by Allison Brennan, Laura Griffin Read Free Book Online

trees.
    “I don’t think he’s in the position to negotiate, Moreno.”
    Richardson was angry. She couldn’t blame him, but it irritated her just the same.
    “Jason didn’t kill Gina Perez. I believe him one hundred percent. All I ask is that you listen to him.”
    “He should call his union rep.”
    “I’ll have him do so. One hour and—”
    There was no deer outside. It was a light-haired man. In black. With a gun.
    “Shit,” she said. “There’s a man with a gun outside and—”
    A burst of gunfire at the front of the house cut her off.

 

Chapter Five
     
    Scarlet grabbed her gun at the same time as she hit the floor. She half-crawled, half ran to the living room. Jason was on the floor covering his head, as glass and wood splinters flew around the room. That’s when she realized that they were being fired on from both sides.
    “Jason!” she yelled.
    “I’m not hit,” he said.
    There was silence. Shouts. It sounded like two men, one in front and one in back. Possibly three.
    Another burst of gunfire from the front had Scarlet automatically returning fire. She stopped; her extra clip was in her Jeep. She only had the fifteen—now thirteen—rounds in her Glock.
    “Who?” Jason asked.
    “Not cops.”
    “No shit.”
    Cops didn’t start shooting without identifying themselves. And she’d just called Richardson three minutes ago. Hardly enough time to trace her cell phone. She looked down at her phone—the signal had been lost.
    “How many?” Scarlet asked.
    “I didn’t see anyone. A shadow in front of the window.”
    “I saw one in the back.”
    “We’re dead. God, I’m sorry Scarlet.”
    “We’re not dead yet.”
    Her blood flowed hot and fast. Her elbow throbbed where she’d been shot three years ago.
    Ambush. Again.
    Silence. Silence so sudden she thought she might be dead.
    But she wasn’t dead. She hadn’t been hit.
    They’d followed her. Or followed Jason. Or tracked him somehow. She couldn’t think about who or how; she had to think clearly to get them out of this.
    Even if Richardson believed her about the man with a gun, it would take at least fifteen minutes for Topanga police to get here—if Richardson was able to trace her phone. If he could track her GPS. Possible … but that fast? Only in the movies.
    She didn’t have enough ammo to hold off two men with semi-automatic rifles for two minutes let alone twenty.
    Think, Scarlet!
    “The cellar,” she said.
    “We’ll be trapped.”
    “Trust me.”
    Most Southern California houses didn’t have a basement, but there was a large crawl space under this house. One of the previous owners had used it to dry pot he’d grown among the trees. When Scarlet lived here before, she’d explored every inch—she didn’t have much else to do—and there was not only an unfinished basement but plenty of places to hide underground.
    But they had to get to the kitchen first.
    “Follow me,” she said.
    They crawled across the floor and she stopped in the threshold of the kitchen. She looked up at the window but didn’t see anyone. The side door was locked, but anyone with a gun or a little strength could easily break through. The window was single-pane and covered by a ratty curtain.
    The basement was accessible from the small laundry room. She quickly crawled across the cracked linoleum and reached up to slide open the pocket door.
    Breaking glass distracted her. She half pushed Jason down into the cellar. Eyes focused on the kitchen door, she watched as a hand came through to unlock the door. She aimed, fired, hit the bastard on the wrist. He screamed and blood sprayed into the kitchen.
    She followed Jason down into the cellar. It was pitch black. The power wasn’t on in the house, so lights weren’t an option, not that she’d turn them on and alert their attackers to where they were hiding. She made sure the door was closed, but that wouldn’t keep them from locating this place if and when they did a full search.
    She