The Left Series (Book 5): Left On The Run by Christian Fletcher Read Free Book Online

back,” Smith whispered.
    I felt my heart hammering in my chest and for one awful moment I thought Scar Face would hear my coronary pump from outside. Smith tapped my shoulder and ushered me to move backward. We slowly retreated from the front door, moving backwards but keeping Scar Face and his remaining two cronies in our sight. They fanned out across the front garden, with Scar Face in the center, slowly approaching the house.
    I took a quick glance behind me and saw Batfish and Wingate huddled in the hallway. I waved them backwards, indicating for them to move further into the shadows.
    Scar Face loomed closer to the front door and the other guy to his right, also dressed in combats peered through the front window to our left. The third guy in the black bobble hat drew closer to the front window to our right. He cupped his hands over the glass pane to avert the sun’s glare and studied the room inside. I sincerely hoped Jimmy or Cordoba hadn’t crept into the room to try and hide.
    I gritted my teeth in frustration. We’d let ourselves become surrounded by a hostile force once again, albeit the gang was smaller in number. These guys didn’t give up easily and now they were pissed with us for injuring some of their buddies back in the Pig and Whistle bar room. They weren’t going to let us off with a few colorful insults and a slap around the face either.
    Smith slowly and quietly pulled his rifle off his shoulder, aiming at the glass panels in the front door. I followed his lead, aiming my M-9 at the panel to the right. Maybe they’d only see the dark shadows and not want to venture inside the house. My hopes were dashed when Scar Face tried the door handle and I knew for a fact that Smith hadn’t bolted the front door.
    Gunfire from two separate weapons from behind us someplace averted our attention. A three round burst of semi automatic fire was followed by a double tap-tap of a handgun.
    Scar Face obviously decided to throw stealth and caution out of the window. He immediately booted in the front door, which flew inwards and banged against the wall to the right. The wooden doorframe splintered under the impact and Scar Face marched into the porch with an expression of malice and his big handgun held out in front of him. Smith didn’t move and I stayed alongside him in the hallway entrance.
    Scar Face’s expression briefly changed to one of shock and surprise when he noticed Smith and I crouching in the hallway door. He attempted to re-aim his handgun at us but was a fraction of a second too late. I couldn’t tell who fired the first round but I opened up with a couple of shots that thudded into Scar Face’s torso and Smith fired a three round burst, which ripped through the hostile target’s head. Blood and brain matter splattered across the doorframe and spiraled in a plume outside. Scar Face jerked backwards, the gun spilling from his hand and he slumped to the ground outside the front door.
    Time seemed to stand still for a few moments before bellowing shouts and raucous yells of panic seemed to be coming from all directions. The stench of fresh blood and cordite burned in my nostrils and it took me a couple of seconds to regain some kind of self-control.
    Smith was already on the move, still crouching but shuffling towards the open doorway. I followed behind him and saw the two remaining guys out front backing off from the property. The guy in the black bobble hat was looking at Scar Face’s corpse and calling out his name. The other guy in the combats edged towards the side of the house, obviously searching for his companions. Both men looked as though they were in shock and unsure what to do.
    The guy in the black bobble hat raised his handgun and randomly fired a few rounds through the front windows of the house. Leaning against the door jamb, Smith re-aimed his M-16 and fired another burst, which thudded into Bobble Hat’s chest. The penetrating rounds generated a neat crescent shape of holes in