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

the left side of his torso. He groaned once before collapsing onto his back into the snow.
    More handgun fire followed by the boom of a double shotgun blast echoed through the hallway and I swiveled around towards the back of the house. My attention was drawn back to the front when the glass panels in the front door exploded, showering Smith and I with broken shards and small chips.
    Smith rocked backwards inside the porch, to the left of the door. I couldn’t see what was going on outside as Smith blocked my view but he was desperately trying to reload his rifle.
    “I’m out of ammo,” Smith yelled. “They’re getting away. If they escape they’ll bring back that whole damn gang with them. Don’t let them get to that vehicle, Wilde.” His eyes glinted with steely menace and I knew he meant business.
    I nodded and scrambled to the doorway. A man in a blood soaked puffer jacket was aided by the guy in the combat clothing. Both men headed towards the garden gate at the front of the property. They fumbled with the gate latch, anxiously glancing back towards the house.
    I recognized the expression of abject terror on their faces when they saw me aiming my M-9 at them. The guy in the combat gear made to raise his own weapon but I released a quick fire double tap before he had a chance to aim. Both rounds hit him in the back, slightly below his shoulder blades, producing two, large bleeding holes. He silently fell to the ground and the remaining guy in the blood stained puffer jacket stumbled backward, to the left of the gate. He looked as though he was going to burst into tears and made an attempt to raise his hands in a surrendering gesture. He was unarmed as far as I could tell but I couldn’t run the risk.
    “Sorry, man,” I muttered before I fired off another three rounds.
    The shots hit the target, plowing through the guy high in his chest, slightly below his neck. I’d aimed a little too high. The guy fell backwards into the hedge with his arms flailing above his head.
    I stepped over Scar Face’s corpse in the doorway and moved towards the two motionless bodies by the garden gate. I had to check they’d been totally eliminated.
    The guy dressed in combat clothing lay on his front with his head pointing towards the road. His eyes remained open and blood pooled in the snow beneath his torso. I turned my attention to the other man, half buried in the hedge. To my horror, the guy was producing a horrible wheezing sound and his eyes fluttered rapidly. Rivulets of blood ran around the sides of his neck and I could see the meaty mess of an open bullet wound at the top of his chest. Fuck! He was still alive.
    I heard approaching footsteps crunch in the snow behind me and turned to see Smith slinging his rifle over his shoulder. He stood next to me studying the mortally wounded guy embedded in the hedge.
    “Jesus, Wilde. If you’re going to put three bullets in a guy, at least have the decency to kill him.” Smith took the M-9 from my hand and stepped forward towards the hedge. He aimed the barrel at the guy’s forehead and squeezed the trigger.
    The pop from the shot echoed around the street. The guy’s head jerked and he wasn’t wheezing anymore. Smith handed me back the M-9 and gave me a brief nod as if to say ‘ job done .’
    “Don’t forget to reload,” he called out as he strode back towards the front door.
    I stared at the two dead bodies for a brief moment, knowing their drained, lifeless faces would come back to haunt me at some point. I didn’t want to think about it too much but I’d just shot and killed two men in cold blood when they were trying to run away. The fact that they’d been trying to hunt us down still didn’t seem to make what I’d done right. I turned away and followed Smith towards the house, trying to block the guilt from encompassing my mind.
    We stopped in our tracks when Batfish appeared at the front door. Her face was pale and her eyes were wide with anxiety. I noticed