Читать книгу Assignment: Marriage - Jackie Merritt - Страница 7

The streets were close to empty. Even in Las Vegas most people were home in bed at three in the morning. Of course, if night owls wanted action, they could find it in Vegas at any hour.

Sergeant Tuck Hannigan, who had eleven years under his belt with the Metropolitan Police Department, was finally ready to call it a day. It had been a hell of a fifteen-hour stretch for him. Normal shifts ran ten hours, but there were some that never seemed to end.

Tuck made a right turn and spotted an around-the-clock convenience store. Remembering that he’d used the last grounds in the coffee can in his kitchen about eighteen hours ago, he pulled into the store’s brightly lighted parking lot. One other car occupied a space, a battered old blue sedan. Tuck parked beside it.

He was wearing civvies—jeans, a black T-shirt, a lightweight jacket and sneakers. His present duty required the standard police officer’s uniform, but he’d changed at the station before leaving. He was beat, getting a little bleary-eyed, but he knew he’d want coffee when he got up in the morning.

Switching off the ignition, he swung out of the car and started for the convenience store’s front door. Only a few steps from his car he realized that he couldn’t see anyone inside. The building was almost garish with lights. There were windows all along the front of it, and inside there wasn’t a person in sight.

Tuck glanced back to the old sedan and felt a spurt of adrenaline. Something was wrong. Convenience stores were notorious targets for robberies and this setup looked suspicious. He eased back toward his car and then ducked around it, intending to go to the pay phone at the side of the building. In two minutes he could run the sedan’s license plate and receive information on its owner.

All hell suddenly broke loose. The sharp pop of gunshots and a woman’s scream came from within the store. Tuck drew the weapon from the holster in the small of his back and raced for the entrance of the store. He hit the swinging door at a dead run. Two men burst from the back room, guns blazing. Tuck threw himself on the floor and fired at the same time. The men went down.

It was over in seconds. Tuck’s heart felt like it was trying to bust through the wall of his chest. He lay there, breathing hard, sweating. A woman teetered from the back room, holding her hand to her left shoulder, which was wet with blood.

Tuck struggled to his feet. The woman looked dazed. “You shot them,” she said in a hoarse, cracking voice.

He looked at the men on the floor, went over to them and checked each for a pulse. They were young, probably under twenty. One was bearded, one’s head was shaved. He sensed the woman sinking and rushed to help her. He sat her on a box and went to the phone and dialed a number.

“This is Sergeant Tuck Hannigan. Send an ambulance to…” He recited the particulars. “There are two dead and one injured. I killed two men.”

He put the phone down and realized there was blood on the front of his clothes. He looked down at it and felt the onslaught of pain. He’d been hit.

The glaring lights in the store began to blur. He sank to the floor. The last thing he remembered was the wail of sirens and the sight of the two young men, dead, lying in their own blood next to a candy display.