Page 270 of Lorenzo

“Let’s go,” I tell her.

She nods. “Mocha, watch!” He takes his place and again walks backward in line with her, keeping watch behind us.

Together, we move toward the building.

We move quickly across the parking lot, keeping low and using the parked cars wherever we can rather than crossing the entire open stretch in a straight line. The rain makes the pavement slick beneath my shoes, but Donna stays beside me without slowing, one hand steady on her gun while Mocha continues moving backward at her command, watching the road behind us.

Another burst of gunfire sounds near the SUVs.

I force myself not to turn around again.

Every second we spend exposed is another chance for someone to come at us from a direction we have not seen yet, and there is nothing I can do for anyone else until I know Donna is somewhere defensible.

We reach the sidewalk beneath the awning, and I immediately move toward the recessed entrance.

“Even if I did have my lockpick set,” Donna says. “Not really sure this is the time.”

“No.” I step back and fire once into the lock. I shoulder the door open, and it swings inward with a scrape of broken metal.

I enter first with my weapon raised.

The interior is dark except for the weak light spilling through the front windows, enough to reveal rows of shelving and a long counter farther inside. I cannot tell what the place sells and do not care. What matters is that there are no immediate signs of movement.

Donna comes in behind me.

“Mocha. Search.”

The dog moves forward at once, nose working as he checks the nearest aisle and then disappears briefly around the end of a shelving unit.

I shove the door closed and push a shelf in front of it. It won't keep out anyone who's very determined, but it'll warn us if anyone tries to get in.

Mocha returns less than a minute later and looks to her.

“Clear?” I ask.

“He would tell me if it wasn’t.”

I glance at her. “I knew he was good, but this is a particularly memorable demonstration.”

She lifts a brow. “I think he deserves all the treats in the world after this, don't you?”

“Yes, I do. But right now, we need to keep away from the glass.”

We move deeper into the store until the front of the building is mostly obscured by shelves and walls. There is a narrow hallway near the back, but I stop before taking us farther.

Too enclosed.

If someone comes through the front, I want enough room to move. If there is another entrance somewhere behind us, I do not want to trap ourselves between the two.

I point toward a position behind the counter where we can see part of the front entrance without standing directly in its line.

“There.”

Donna settles beside me, breathing harder now that we have stopped moving, although her hands remain steady.

Mocha stays close to her leg.

For several seconds, neither of us speaks.