Irish Throwdown (What Happens In Vegas Book 4) by Matt Lincoln (motivational novels TXT) 📗

in control now and was likely having the driver take an erratic route. We didn’t know what his exact motive was, but whatever he wanted couldn’t be good, considering he’d stormed onto the bus with a gun.

“Are you ready?” I asked Junior.

“As I’ll ever be,” he nodded in response.

The plan was pretty simple. Junior would go down and distract the gunman. He was skilled at defusing dangerous situations and talking people down, so he had a better chance at successfully keeping the man’s attention between the two of us. While he was doing that, I would scale down the outside of the bus and, hopefully, make it to the front without getting myself killed on the way. That way, we’d be able to box the gunman in on either side. Once I was down there, I’d distract the shooter long enough for Junior to take him down.

“Are you sure that you can do this?” Junior asked me dubiously.

“Sure,” I smirked. “If I can hang onto the side of a moving train, I’m sure I can hang on to the side of a bus.”

“You’re going to have to tell me that story later,” Junior chuckled. “Alright, I’m off.”

I watched nervously as he drew his gun before slowly descending the spiral staircase that led to the lower level. Though we were cleared to have our firearms with us as federal agents, technically, we weren’t supposed to be using them until we met back up with our police liaison the following morning. The rules were different in Ireland, and they preferred for their own authorities to supervise any time firearms might end up being used. Desperate times, though.

Once he was gone, I moved into action. The emergency windows on this bus were the kind that swung open when a latch was pulled. This was fortunate because it meant that I wouldn’t have to kick the window out and potentially alert the shooter below.

The large window swung open easily, and I was hit with a roar of noise as the wind rushed into the bus. I peered out the window, and I could see that there were two small ledges along the side of the bus. They were meant to hold advertisements in place, but they would work perfectly as footholds as I scaled my way down. I could hear the other passengers whispering nervously as they watched me, but I blocked everything else out and just focused on my mission as I swung my legs out over the edge of the window.

Just as I did, the bus driver made a sharp turn, and I lost my balance. I managed to grip the edge of the windowsill with one hand, but my hold was too unstable for me to gain my footing below me.

I could feel my grip slipping, but before I lost it entirely, I felt a slim pair of hands grab tightly onto my wrist. I looked up and found myself face-to-face with the young woman who I’d seen holding a crying baby earlier. A second later, a man who I assumed was her husband appeared by her side to help pull me up. Once I was back up against the windowsill, I was able to plant my feet firmly against the thin ledge below me.

“Are you alright?” the woman asked with an accent I couldn’t immediately identify.

“I’m fine,” I replied automatically. Just behind them, I could see their young son holding his baby sister tightly in his arms. They must have heard Junior and me talking about our plan. Seeing the kids just reminded me of exactly what was at stake here.

“Thanks,” I nodded as I turned my attention back toward the side of the bus. The side of the bus was mostly smooth, save for the two small ledges that held banners in place, but I could see a small alcove right in front of the driver’s seat. The armed man was most likely standing by the driver and giving him orders. If I could make my way to the small opening in front of the driver’s seat, I’d have a clear shot at him.

I made my way as quickly as I could along the side of the bus. Luckily, it seemed like we were currently on a relatively long and straight stretch of road, so I didn’t have to worry about getting tossed off during a sudden turn. I was nearly to the driver’s seat when I heard a gunshot ring out from inside the bus, followed by screams.

I swore and moved as quickly as I dared the rest of the way toward the driver’s seat. Once I was above the alcove, I swung myself into the small space as quietly as possible.

The bus driver’s eyes went wide as I suddenly appeared in front of him. I quickly held a finger up to my mouth before he could say anything. Through the window, I could see that the gunman was facing the back of the bus. The passengers were all cowering in their seats, and I could see Junior at the back of the bus, using the staircase as cover while he pointed his gun toward the busjacker.

I lifted my own gun and pointed it directly at the suspect. The image of the frightened little boy clutching his baby sister flashed across my mind, and I kicked on the glass hard. The bus’s windows splintered and cracked, but to my horror, they did not shatter. The gunman whipped around to face me. I was still crouched on the front of the bus, and I kept my gun aimed right at him, though with the glass still intact before me, I didn’t dare pull the trigger. There were too many innocent bystanders to risk a shot going rogue through the glass.

The gunman lifted his weapon and shot toward me. The glass shattered, and the driver panicked and swerved violently. There was a long metal pole along the driver-side door that held the rearview mirror in place, and I held onto