Joanna Wayne by Showdown at Shadow Junction

Author:Showdown at Shadow Junction [Junction, Showdown at Shadow]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

“Call 911,” Booker ordered, struggling to keep a cool head. “Jade’s been hit.”

“No. I’m fine,” Jade said, “except for my left shoulder that got shoved into the gearshift.”

“I damn near lost a finger,” Boros said. He lifted his bloody hand for them to see the ugly wound. Booker breathed easier as he realized that the blood that coated Jade’s hair wasn’t hers. Nor was it from a life-threatening injury.

Booker sprang from the car, this time with his pistol drawn, though the shooter wasn’t likely to risk another drive-by attempt. For all the shooter knew, he’d hit his mark and they were all dead or near it.

The young valet was nowhere in sight, but Booker quickly spotted him scooting headfirst from beneath the front bumper. He appeared unhurt, though his face was vampire pale and the hood and right front fender of the car had both caught bullets.

“Man, that was close.” The valet brushed off his pants and looked from Booker to the damaged bumper and hood. “If you hadn’t shoved me to the ground when you did, I’d be dead.”

“You having enough sense to squirm under the car didn’t hurt, either. Are you hurt at all?”

“Skinned elbows from scooting under the car so fast.” He stared at Booker’s gun. “Did you get him?”

“Afraid not. It happened so fast I didn’t even get off a shot.”

“Do you think he’ll be back?”

“Not likely, at least not anytime soon.”

A siren sounded.

“Much less likely now,” Booker said.

“Wait until the other valet hears about this. He’s gonna go agro that he missed out on the excitement.”

That was one way of putting a positive spin on the incident. Booker walked over to the driver’s-side door.

Jade was leaning over Boros, examining his wound. “It’s a glass cut,” she said. “Bleeding has almost stopped, but it needs to be cleaned and bandaged.”

“I put my hand up to protect my face when the shooting started.”

“Better your finger than an eye,” Jade said.

A squad car pulled up and stopped behind Boros’s car. Two officers got out and took a quick look at the car before walking up to Booker.

“What happened here?” the taller one asked.

Boros burst into a heated explanation of the drive-by shooting, demanding a full police report.

The officers kept asking questions.

“If you want to know who’s behind the shooting, I suggest you talk to Detective Winston Fielding,” Boros said. “In fact, give me a minute, and I’ll get him on the phone.”

Boros made the call and wasted no time filling in the detective and blaming him for the incident.

“If you’d arrested Quaid Vaquero’s real killer by now instead of trying to frame an innocent victim, things would never have gone this far. We could have been killed.”

Booker could only hear one side of the discussion, but he had no trouble filling in the conversation blanks for himself.

“There is positively no way you are questioning my client about anything, not even the weather, without my being present. You’ll just have to wait until the police are through here and my finger is checked out.

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