Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
The first time, it purportedly delivered pizza. The second time, it was a taco truck. That had amused Matteo because half the food items on the menu on the side of the truck were misspelled. The third time, they’d gone with Korean. None of us knew enough about that cuisine to know if it was spelled right or not.
It was fucking stupid of them to stick to one route, but it was good for us. A grim smile spread across my face as I heard the sound I’d been waiting for. The noise of the powerful diesel engine grew louder as the ground began to rumble.
“Showtime,” I muttered into the radio, abandoning the cover of the trees. I strode into the middle of the road, the truck’s headlights hitting my ski-mask covered head.
Though I couldn’t see the driver’s face yet, I heard the shift in the engine as he took his foot off the accelerator, probably reflexively. Right now, he was probably trying to decide if it was better to stop or run me over. I was prepared for both options but stood my ground.
The truck slowed, and I knew that the driver had seen the high-powered assault rifle I was aiming directly at him. I could see him through the scope now. Technically, Matteo was a better shot, but I had this asshole covered as surely as if he’d had a target drawn on his forehead. From the bead of sweat I could see through the scope, he knew it, too, and the large vehicle lurched to a halt.
“Out! Now!” I shouted, taking a few steps closer to the front of the truck. The driver stared at me through the windshield. He was too preoccupied to notice Leonardo sprinting along the side of the vehicle. His gun drawn, he halted right outside the driver’s door and pointed it up at him. Leaning forward, the driver put on the handbrake, diesel fumes filling my nostrils.
Though there was no sign of him, I knew that Matteo had taken his place behind the truck. My job, at the moment, was to keep the driver’s attention. My rifle could pierce through that glass with ease, and he probably knew that. Ignoring my order to exit the truck, he just sat there staring at me, fear written all over his face. Which was fine as long as he didn’t cause any trouble for us.
Then I heard Matteo’s voice over the sound of the engine. “Three, two, one…”
A loud blast ripped through the stillness of the night. Smoke rose from behind the truck as the driver was thrown sideways, disappearing from view. The little fucker hadn’t even been wearing a seatbelt.
“All clear?” I called back to Matteo. Though we’d accounted for every variable we could, we hadn’t been entirely sure that the charge would be enough to blow open the reinforced doors. At the same time, we didn’t want anything so strong that it risked torching the cash. But Matteo knew what to do if the first blast didn’t work. We always had a Plan B.
“Give me a minute,” Matteo called back.
Leonardo and I exchanged glances. Would it have killed him to give us more info?
Movement caught my eye. The chickenshit driver had reappeared, and he had something in his hands. My finger tightened instinctively on the trigger before I saw what he was holding.
It was a fucking shotgun. What kind of an armored truck driver packed a weapon more suited to picking squirrels off of tree branches?
The driver fumbled with his laughable weapon and then he coughed.
Shit.
It took my brain a half second to resolve the alarm spreading through me. The driver had coughed because of the smoke filling the cab of the truck. A quick glance confirmed that the wall separating the front from the back of the truck remained intact. So how was the fuck cab filling up with smoke?
My pulse tripled as I realized the driver had rolled down the window.
Shit, shit, fuck.
I trained my sights on the driver, but my gaze went to Leonardo. He was coughing, too, the ski mask not offering much protection from the acrid smoke. He’d taken a couple of instinctive steps back after the blast, but he was still too close to the truck.
“Look out!” I thundered, and in that split second, I knew I’d fucked up. I should’ve taken out the prick of a driver first. My shot pierced the glass, taking out the driver, but he’d got his off first, and Leonardo fell to the ground with a cry.
Matteo rounded the corner of the truck, almost tripping over Leonardo. “What happened?”
“Little fucker tried to be a big man,” I growled, dropping to my knees.
Leonardo was clutching his chest, and I yanked off my mask in order to see better. Matteo whipped out a flashlight, and we both stared down at the blood darkening Leon’s shirt. His breathing was ragged as he gasped in pain. It was obvious he was trying to keep from shouting, but that was the least of my concerns. The driver was dead, and I was determined that Leonardo wouldn’t end up that way, too.