Derrick didn’t wait to find out. He lined up his shot and fired.
The guy flopped back on the pavement. Dead?
He didn’t know.
Rabie stood unmoving a few feet from the waiting SUV, eyes wide, jaw dropped in a soundless scream.
That was the strangest thing about the whole situation. Except for the echo of gunshots, all was quiet.
The clerk didn’t come outside. No sirens rang in the distance.
In the movies, there’d be music and sound effects.
But the world had gone silent.
Derrick bolted toward Rabie, scooped him up, and turned toward the car.
Jasmine was behind the wheel. She backed out of the spot and braked hard.
He dove into the passenger seat, the kid on his lap, and slammed the door.
She hit the gas and drove toward the interstate.
“Go east,” he said. “Turn left, under the highway, then back the way we came.”
She didn’t respond, just did what he said. Not that he had any idea what he was doing. Just going on instinct now. That was all that had been—instinct.
“You hurt?” he asked her.
She shook her head. Maybe she wasn’t hurt, but she was definitely terrified. Traumatized.
“You sure?” At her nod, he said, “Get off at the next exit.” There’d been a couple between the busy, brightly-lit one and the one where they’d stopped.
He just needed a second to think. To breathe. To figure out what to do.
He turned his attention to the kid, who was way too big to be sitting on his lap. “How about you, buddy? You okay?”
Rabie babbled something in Arabic.
Jasmine responded, also in Arabic.
So helpful.
Derrick felt moisture on his jeans. Was Rabie bleeding!
And then Derrick noted the scent of urine. Oh.
The kid had warned him he had a full bladder. Now, he was probably embarrassed. Derrick wasn’t sure how to play it and decided best to pretend he didn’t notice.
“You were wicked brave,” he said. “Those guys were huge.”
Rabie backed away, shaking his head. Then, his eyes popped wide. “You are hurt!”
“I’m fine, buddy. I’m fine.”
But Rabie touched Derrick just below the armpit, and…
He sucked in a breath. Yikes!