Rum Runner by J. A. Konrath

Author:J. A. Konrath [Konrath, J. A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Thriller, mystery, suspense
Goodreads: 28856737
Publisher: Amazon Digital Services
Published: 2016-03-25T00:00:00+00:00

JACK

I stared at the monitors, listening to ambient sounds through the console speakers.

It was like watching a natural disaster unfold live on CNN.

I was afraid, of course. For me. For Phin. For Sam, because if we died I really didn’t want her being raised by Harry McGlade. She’d go to my mother first, of course. But Mom was old, and there was a convoluted relationship between my mother and Harry that could potentially lead to Samantha and Harry Junior becoming step-siblings, which was almost as frightening as the three ring circus outside.

But underneath the fear and dread, my current situation was the stuff of black comedy. I’d spent two years, locked up in my house afraid that a lone serial killer named Luther Kite might show up, and the moment I leave I’m surrounded by a hundred killers who were not Luther Kite. Cue Alanis Morissette and her Ironic song.

There had been no more attacks since the fire, which Harry’s sprinklers had finally extinguished. The temperature gauge registered 122°, and it had only risen a single degree since I’d shut off the water. I didn’t know if that was hot enough to repel them.

Escape seemed impossible. They’d torched our SUV. The house was surrounded. The lack of any cell signal told me they’d secured their perimeter.

Eventually someone would come looking for me. Phin. Harry. Val. The local authorities. In theory, my chances would improve the longer I was able to hold out. Unless T-Nail’s plan banked on someone trying to save me.

I recalled several times in my past when I was faced with hostage situations. None of the memories were pleasant.

What if they had Phin, and began cutting off his toes one at a time until I let them in?

I couldn’t handle that.

There was movement on the monitor. I watched, jaw clenched, as a van approached the house and began to drive in circles on the lawn, slowly picking up speed.

I guessed the game plan, and frowned.

Harry’s front door held up to gunfire and a grenade, but I didn’t think it could withstand a three ton head-on collision.

The van began to honk. The driver was no doubt trying to psyche himself up. As a cop, I’d seen more than a few car accident aftermaths. Airbags only did so much. The moron who was driving either had a death wish, or was ignorant of the dangers involved. I didn’t know whether to blame his parents, society, or the bad example set by television shows, which showed people walking away from crashes that would almost always prove fatal in real life.

I stopped dwelling on his motivation and began to dwell on mine. Was I going to just sit there while someone rammed his way inside?

No.

I jogged into the living room, over to the balistraria.

Balistraria. Embrasure. Crenel.

The open space between the merlons. Every good castle had one, and Harry’s house was no exception.

I swung the plate back, exposing the cross-shaped hole in the wall, and peeked outside. It was a window, of sorts, only three inches wide and two feet high, shaped like a lower case letter t.

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