Guilty (The Jury Series Book 4) by Lee Goldberg

Author:Lee Goldberg
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Cutting Edge
Published: 2011-04-14T11:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

While Moonface and his buddies whipped the Cadillac with their chains, Macklin scrounged around the inside of his car looking for a weapon.

The oppressive heat inside the car was squeezing the sweat out of him, soaking his clothes and bandages in perspiration. The temperature in the car was building up. He knew he’d be pressure-fried if he didn’t get out of there soon.

It’s a damn funny situation, Macklin thought. I’m inside a tank and yet, utterly defenseless.

The two air-cooled, .50-caliber machine guns mounted under the front headlights couldn’t do him much good now, unless Moonface obediently lined up his men in front of the car. Or maybe they would be kind enough to stare into his taillights so he could blind them with the halogen burst lamps.

Some tank.

If he survived this, Macklin promised himself he’d add some lethal, and highly illegal, modifications to this 221-inch Batmobile.

Macklin popped open the glove compartment and found some road maps, some .357 shells, a Bic lighter, a Bruce Springsteen tape, and a first aid kit.

Great, Macklin thought. I’ll flick my Bic at them, and while they stumble around blind, I’ll hit them over the heads with the Springsteen tape and shove bullets down their throats.

Moonface opened his fly and urinated on Macklin’s car.

Christ, Macklin thought, is there anyone who isn’t pissing on me?

He climbed over the seat and searched through the clutter that had accumulated on his backseat. Old cartons of food, yellowed newspapers, unreturned videocassettes, flight plans, hangers, small grocery bags, and other assorted garbage covered the seat and the floors.

Under the front seat he found an old, eel-skin shaving bag that he had lost months ago. It was his overnighter kit. He’d had one in his car ever since college. After all, he never knew when he might get lucky.

He unzipped it and found a disposable razor, travel toothbrush, sampler can of aerosol deodorant spray, shaving gel, toothpaste, and wintergreen Binaca breath spray.

Macklin squirted the Binaca in his mouth and tossed the kit on the passenger seat. The Binaca tasted good and gave him a little extra moisture on his dry throat.

“Watch out, faggot’s gonna kiss us,” said Groove, a purple-Mohawked scumking.

Macklin sat still for a moment and thought. A Bloodhawk jumped on the hood like a monkey. Moonface ran a finger down his bloody arm and wrote the word “FUCKER” in blood on the driver’s side window.

Macklin had a plan. He scrambled around the car again, tossing papers aside as if still searching for something useful. In the process, he hid the Bic lighter in his left hand and twisted the flame control with his thumb to its highest setting.

Macklin took the deodorant in his right hand and reached for the door handle.

Moonface stepped back, grinning, fanning his hands towards himself to beckon Macklin. “C’mon out, motherfucker.”

He burst out of the car, flicking his Bic lighter and holding it up to the deodorant can as he depressed the spray button.

A tongue of flame lashed out of the spray can and ignited Moonface’s blood-soaked shirt.

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