I go to start my bike when my phone vibrates.
Dragon. I don’t want to talk to him. It’s been a good fucking day. I don’t want his shit to ruin it. Still, I answer. If he starts his crap, I’ll hang up.
“Yeah man.”
“We got trouble, man. Freak was checking cameras for the safe house before running some routine maintenance on our system and there were two men sneaking around the garage.”
“What the hell do you mean sneaking around? What about the alarms?”
“We backed the cameras up, seems there is a third man with them. He disabled the fucking alarms.”
“What the fuck! You said that place was solid!” I growl, panic at the thought of Carrie being in danger pounding through my system.
“I don’t fucking know how they knew where the alarms were, I just know he disabled the entire fucking system. I’ll make heads roll about that later. For now we got bigger fucking fish to fry, you feel me?”
“Fuck, please tell me Crush got the sons of bitches.”
“Crush was in the garage and the two men split up and surrounded it. They both went in, and when they came back out there was no sign of Crusher.”
“Fuck!” I yell.
“We’re on our way, but you need to get Six and get your ass out there. You’re closer. Watch your back, we’ll be there as soon as we can.”
“You call Six, he’s already in the club. I’m not waiting. I’m heading out now.”
Dragon’s arguing when I hang up the phone. I don’t know what he said and I don’t care. I need to get to Carrie. I break every traffic law coming and going to get back to the house. I have one gun and I’ve been keeping it locked up in the house. I haven’t looked at it since the night I accidentally hurt Carrie. I don’t carry one, because ex-cons aren’t allowed that privilege. I’m not about to tempt fate just yet. Still, I know that Drag keeps a safe with emergency weapons hid in the garden shed out back. I turn my bike off and leave it at the bottom of the long drive. I don’t want to take the chance that I will be discovered before I make my move. I should check on Crush, but Carrie is my first concern. I can’t think past her.
I sprint to the shed, trying to stay away from direct view of the windows in the house, not an easy task. I manage somehow and make it to the shed. I breathe a sigh of relief when I find the old, bent up safe hid behind the wall of hoes, shovels, and rakes. Inside are three, thirty-eights and a box of ammo. I grab one, loading it quickly. I stuff about ten or fifteen bullets in my pocket. I’m hoping to find all of the motherfuckers together, but who the hell knows. I don’t have the best of luck.
With a deep breath, I take off for the back of the house. I’m betting that he will have Carrie either in the living room or kitchen. With that in mind, I know I don’t want to use the front door. Damn place doesn’t have a back door and that’s fucked up. I search what I know about the house and quickly decide to get in through Carrie’s bathroom window. It’s at the back of the house and the farthest away from the kitchen. I pray I can get in quietly. I need surprise on my side. I sure as hell don’t have much else.
I make it to the window and it’s locked. I figured it would be. I reach in my pocket and pull out my knife. I suppose carrying a pocket knife might be bad for an ex-con too, but I’m thankful I never worried about it. I angle the longest part of the knife’s blade where the upper and lower window meets. I attempt to trip the lock. I try ten fucking times. TEN! Way too many when my woman could be inside dying. I close my eyes, take a breath and try to steady myself. Then I try again. Finally! On the second attempt I manage to slide the lever over and it unlocks. I raise the window as quietly as I can.
Once I get it open enough to slide in, I stop and listen. When I don’t hear anyone coming towards the room, I take that as a good sign. I slide my knife back in my pocket, heft myself onto the window ledge, and pull myself up. I manage to push through the opening, but I scrape my side on the corner of a wooden chest that’s beside the window. Fuck! That hurt. I can feel the sticky wet drip of blood on my skin. I don’t bother to inspect it. I have no time.
I carefully make my way through the hall. I can hear talking in the kitchen. The voices aren’t overly loud, so I can’t really hear what they’re saying, until I get closer. I hide behind the half wall that divides the kitchen and living room.
I smell the odor of gun powder mixed with the coppery scent of blood in the room and my heart stalls. I almost lose it, until I hear Carrie’s voice. She’s alive.
“You don’t have to do this.”