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That bad feeling came again, slicing through Mia.
The feeling skyrocketed when Birdie whipped out a gun and fired it directly into the window.
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Chapter Seventeen
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Angel didn’t see Birdie’s gun in time to get down, and the shot slammed into the window.
The sound, a thick blast, vibrated through the entire van. The glass held, thank God, and even through the cracked webbing, Angel could see the stunned expression on Birdie’s face.
Birdie had obviously believed the point-blank shot would kill him on the spot, taking out the threat so she could move on to her next target.
Mia.
Angel had no intentions of letting that happen. Not to him. And especially not to Mia.
“Get into the back of the van,” Angel told Mia.
There were two seats with a space between them so that Mia could go all the way to the rear, where hopefully she’d be out of range of Birdie’s gun. Because eventually the shots would rip through the glass.
Mia obeyed. Without wasting a second, she crawled over the console and into the back where she immediately dropped down onto the floor of the van. Angel did the same thing.
Just as Birdie fired another shot.
This bullet did indeed tear a small hole in the glass, but that clearly wasn’t enough for Birdie because the woman spewed out some raw profanity.
“You have to die!” Birdie screeched out.
Clearly, that was her plan, and Angel had a quick debate with himself about his options. He could slide open the side door of the van, just enough for him to return fire.
Which mean killing Birdie.
That was fine with him right now, but he preferred to know why the hell she was doing this. Of course, he didn’t want that info to come at Mia’s expense. First chance he got, he’d get her out of here, but he needed to deal with Birdie first.
“Die!” Birdie shouted again, and she kept firing into the window.
Angel reached for the door, to deliver that return fire in the form of a kill shot to the head, but the sound stopped him.
“What the hell?” Presley yelled.
From the windshield, Angel saw Presley racing across the parking lot toward them. And since he was armed, that meant he’d stopped by his SUV to get his weapon.
Good.
Angel wanted him armed, but he didn’t want Presley being gunned down by a woman hellbent on murder.
Birdie shrieked out a sound that was more feral than human, and she turned her gun toward Presley. Angel’s heart dropped straight to his knees when she pulled the trigger. But Presley had obviously seen it coming because he dived behind a car while Birdie continued to send round after round at him.
Angel had lost count of how many times she’d fired, but he wasn’t surprised when she ran out of ammo. He reached to open the door. But before he could open it, he saw Birdie tossed the empty gun aside and whipped out another one from her purse.
Obviously, she had come prepared to kill.
“Birdie,” Presley yelled, drawing her attention back to him.
She pivoted toward him, taking aim when Presley levered himself up from behind the car.
