Hush Hush by Erik Carter (best short novels of all time .TXT) 📗

pounded as he tried desperately to pull Gavin in the opposite direction, back to where they’d come from, to some form of cover.

But his fears were quickly allayed.

Because he saw Brett driving, Kim in the passenger seat.

The car came to a stop. Brett and Kim got out, and Brett ran over and without a word grabbed Gavin from the opposite side. Gavin suddenly moved, dragged primarily by Brett. Jonah was barely helping.

As they got closer to the Grand Cherokee, the damage became more apparent. Half the windows were shattered through, and the windshield was spider-webbed. Holes riddled the sides.

“Two guys came and shot the hell out of his Jeep,” Jonah said. “He took them down.”

Brett glanced on either side of the driveway, saw the bodies, nodded. He grabbed the door handle on the Grand Cherokee’s passenger door, yanked. It didn’t budge. He pulled harder, and the mangled door pulled open with a screech.

“Get to hospital,” Brett said.

Jonah felt a quick wave of panic. “I don’t know this area.”

Kim stepped toward them. “There’s one a mile from here, down the road, then north on 441.”

Jonah took another look at the vehicle. It looked like shit, but the tires were intact and the engine was running. If he could get the thing in gear, he could get to the hospital.

Gavin’s feet drug on the concrete as Brett pulled him into the passenger seat and buckled him in. Gavin grunted, his first utterance for some time.

Brett ran back to the Accord, and Kim followed suit, opening the passenger door.

For a moment, Jonah hadn’t been too concerned about getting to the hospital. He had Brett back, the big man who was strong, was a leader. But now it looked like he was going to lose him.

“Where are you going?” Jonah yelled out to him.

Brett looked at him. “TCB.”

Chapter Forty-Four

“This is it,” Kim said. “The northwest office.”

They’d been driving for fifteen minutes, Kim navigating from the passenger seat. And when she pointed out their destination, Silence was initially taken aback. It didn’t look like a police station, more like a bank. One-story. Brick. Very plain, with subdued landscaping fitting of a big chain bank—little bushes and obligatory palms, red mulch.

Silence turned left at the light, pivoting around the corner of the building toward the parking lot in the back, and as he did, the similarities with a bank were even more apparent, as there was a covered drive-through area in the back. Probably had been a bank at one point.

“What type—” A slice of pain in his throat. He grimaced, swallowed. “Of vehicle?”

Kim gave him a confused look. “What type of car does Carlton drive?”

Silence nodded.

“I don’t know.”

That was going to make things a lot more challenging.

Silence rolled to the rear of the parking lot, looking into the idle, darkened vehicles as they passed by. He pulled into an empty slot at the back row, hopped out, and took the Beretta from its shoulder holster.

As he closed the door, he looked through the windshield to Kim, swiped his hand down. Kim took his meaning and ducked below the dash, out of sight.

He traced along the vehicles in the nearest row, peeking inside. He didn’t have time to check each one, so he got as good of a view as he could through each vehicle’s windshield. But that didn’t mean Carlton wasn’t crouched below a dash as he’d instructed Kim to do.

Silence would have to take his chances.

Another row. More darkened cars. No signs of people.

And then he heard an idling engine.

Somewhere a row or two up, its sound muffled by the noise coming from the street beside him, a steady flow of evening traffic.

Another row up. Was the idling sound coming from the parking lot? Or from the street?

For a moment, he considered bolting for the building, abandoning the parking lot search, but the idea of running into a police station armed and with a broken, raspy voice blabbering in broken English about a records room and a former cop and—

An engine roared.

Tires chirped.

Beside him.

Silence had just enough time to jump, enough spring in his feet to avoid the grill, maybe the hood.

But not the windshield.

He smashed into it.

The glass shattered against his shoulder, absorbing his impact, his weight, enveloping him like a brittle, crackling blanket.

He rolled over the top of the vehicle, bounced off the trunk, and landed hard on the blacktop.

His breath was ripped from his lungs, burning the scarred inner workings of his throat.

A groan trickled from his lips.

His eyelids closed. He forced them open.

A black Lincoln sedan idled in front of him, its windshield destroyed. A confetti mess of glistening safety glass sparkled the blacktop. The driver-side door opened. A pair of shoes stepped out. The door shut. The shoes approached.

The groan on Silence’s lips grew louder as he turned his head.

And saw Carlton Stokes strolling in his direction.

Chapter Forty-Five

The electronic beeping that represented Gavin’s heart rate came slow and steady from the EKG.

A mound of bandages bulged off his shoulder, and an IV was connected to his arm, dulling his world.

For a while, his senses had left him. He remembered taking down the final thug outside Carlton’s house. He remembered gasping on the concrete, motionless. And then everything else had come in flashes.

Jonah racing over to him, asking if he was okay, if he could move.

Bits of conversation he couldn’t remember. He’d found a bit of strength, enough to speak.

Flashes of Jonah. His feet. His hands.

Shuffling noises and pain.

Jonah had tried to get him to the vehicle.

Headlights. The crunching sound of tires. And then there was the big guy, Brett. Kim Hurley—she’d been there, too.

The two men had moved Gavin. And his eyes had closed.

He was in the Grand Cherokee.

Then a long hallway. Bright lights. The smell of cleaners, medical supplies.

Green scrubs. White jackets. Questions he didn’t answer.

And then nothing. Until a few moments ago when he’d woken up to the EKG and the IV.

A sound from the other side of the room. He stole his attention away