Читать книгу Not Even Past - Dave White - Страница 23

MARTIN SLAMMED his fist on the front door of the warehouse. It was metal and clanged against its hinges. The music of the banging made Donne’s ears ring. He jammed his hands in his pockets and looked out toward the water. He tried to focus on the sloshing of it against the docks, rather than the churning in his stomach or Martin’s slamming.

The image of the two military men busting out of the door, guns blazing, tearing the two of them to shreds wouldn’t escape Donne’s mind. As Martin knocked, Donne felt naked without his own gun.

Martin stopped banging and said, “Someone’s coming.”

Taking a step back, Martin rested his hands on his hips. Donne couldn’t tell standing behind him, but he assumed Martin’s hands were as close to his weapon as possible. The lock in the door turned and Donne tensed. He was ready to run, dive, jump, duck, or whatever the hell else he had to do to save his own skin.