The Bodyguard by Sean Rodman

Author:Sean Rodman
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781459822030
Publisher: Orca Book Publishers
Published: 2018-11-01T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

It should be easy to spot him. Pools of light from the streetlamps dot the road in either direction. It’s quiet except for the gentle rush of wind through the leaves of oak trees.

Then I hear the slap-slap of shoes hitting pavement. He’s about a block away, running hard down the sidewalk. I shake my head again. I’m really not getting paid enough for this. I switch into sprint mode. He’s no match for me. I’ve almost caught up as he reaches the next intersection.

“Markus!” I shout.

I see him hesitate and then come to a stop in the middle of the road. He turns around to squint back at me. All of a sudden Markus is illuminated by a bright white light. There’s a low mechanical hum. A big black Lexus comes roaring out of the darkness. Straight at Markus.

He swivels around to stare at the oncoming car. He raises his arms up, like he can shield himself from the two tons of vehicle that’s about to crush him.

With a surge of adrenaline and speed, I cover the distance between us in seconds. I launch myself into the air and tackle Markus. We tumble to the other side of the road just as the black Lexus rushes by, tires screeching on the pavement.

I roll away from Markus and sit up. My left arm aches where I hit the pavement hard. The Lexus is paused just past the intersection, idling. The windows are rolled down, and I can see the driver staring at me. But he’s in the shadows. I’m under a bright streetlight. I can’t make out what he looks like. No doubt he got a good look at me. He kicks the car into gear and takes off. Exhaust stings my nose.

Markus groans, still lying on the street. He has a cut on his forehead that’s oozing bright red blood. “That was him,” says Markus. “The Plunger.”

We limp back to Alex’s house, nervously listening for the sound of the Lexus. But it doesn’t return to finish us off. This time when we knock, it’s Alex who answers the door.

“Whoa. You guys get into a dustup?” he says when he sees us. Markus has a bloody hand pressed against the wound on his head. I’m cradling my injured arm.

“No, it wasn’t me versus him,” I say. “It was car versus us.” I glare at Markus. “I think there are a few more stories we need to hear. Can we come in?”

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