A Killing Game by Jeff Buick

Author:Jeff Buick [Buick, Jeff]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781989727003
Publisher: Novel Words Inc.
Published: 2020-01-30T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Forty-one

The second-floor apartment was a disaster. Empty pizza boxes and beer cans littered the stained carpet and a cheap radio blasted out AC DC. The sound was tinny and irritating, but Joey McGinley didn’t notice as he packed his Nike bag.

“Why we leaving?” the girl asked. She was young, not yet twenty, and totally hooked on the drugs Joey sold at street level. She looked anorexic, with her clothes hanging off her skinny frame, and stringy, thin hair. Her face was a pasty, unhealthy white.

“Because I got business in Florida. Now move your ass or I’ll leave you here,” Joey snapped back.

She pulled herself off the couch and sauntered into the bedroom, returning a minute later with a plastic bag from a nearby grocery store. One leg of a pair of blue jeans stuck out the top. “You got anything for the trip?” she asked, lighting a cigarette with her free hand. She was shaking and it took three tries with the lighter to connect the flame to the tobacco.

“Yeah, baby, I got shit. Now let’s go.” McGinley grabbed her by the arm and pulled her with him. He locked the deadbolt and they started down the creaky stairs. “C’mon, hurry up,” he said as he reached the door that exited onto the street.

Joey’s Lincoln Town Car was parked next to the curb a few yards from the door. It was still early on Saturday morning and the street was quiet. He jumped in and gunned the motor as the girl slipped in beside him, then Joey rammed the car into drive and pulled away from the curb. When he reached the corner, two police cruisers screeched into position, blocking the road in front of him, and officers from both cars leaped out and pulled their guns.

“Fuck.” Joey slammed on the brakes and threw the car into reverse. He floored it and the car careened backwards down the road, swaying from side to side as Joey struggled to control it. Through the rear window he saw two more squad cars blocking his exit. He was trapped on the street. He hit the brakes hard and the car went up on two wheels then crashed onto its side and rolled. Neither of them had seatbelts on and they flew about the car, smashing into the roof and seats as the car skittered down the street. Eventually, it came to a rocking stop.

“Joey,” she moaned. Her face was covered with blood and she’d knocked her front teeth out on the dashboard.

He ignored her and kicked at the driver’s door, which was jammed shut from the force of the crash. It groaned, then creaked open. He slid out of the car, pistol in hand, and made a run for a door a few feet from where the car had stopped. He tried the handle, but it was locked. He spun around, looking for options. There were none. He leveled the gun at the closest cruisers and opened fire. Joey got off three

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