Page 58 of South of Justice

Blood trickled from a shallow cut on Lucía’s cheek. “We have to get out of here. There must be a back exit.”

Ryan nodded, angling his body toward the narrow hallway behind them. He stood, helping Lucía to her feet.

Then the front door exploded inward.

Wood splintered, hinges ripped. A tall man entered, all tactical black and purpose—no mask, just dead eyes. He raised an assault rifle with the calm precision of someone not expecting to miss.

Ryan fired. Two quick shots.

The man moved like water, ducking into cover behind a filing cabinet and firing.

Bullets tore into the wall behind him. Whoever this bastard was, he wasn’t just a trigger-happy thug, he was methodical.

Lucía cried out. A round caught her shoulder and spun her into the desk with a thud.

“Lucía!”

“Fuck! I’m hit.”

Ryan felt his heart stop, then restarted beating at twice the rate. “Where?”

“Shoulder. I’m okay.”

The shooter was still behind the filing cabinets, repositioning. Ryan could hear the scuff of boots on linoleum. He surged forward, grabbing her under the uninjured arm. Another spray of gunfire ripped through the air, shredding papers, punching through furniture. He ducked low, shielding her with his body.

Her face was pale, lips drawn tight in pain, but she was still conscious. “You good to move?”

“Better than staying here.”

He nodded. “Alright. Go!”

They bolted down the hallway, Ryan firing blindly behind them to suppress the shooter. He kicked open the back door. Blinding sunlight, heat, and the dry rasp of cicadas hit them.A cracked lot stretched behind the building: chain-link fence, weeds, a rusted water tank.

Movement at the fence line—a muzzle flash.

“Down!”

They dropped behind an ancient dumpster as bullets stitched the wall. Ryan leaned out, squeezed off two rounds; one ricocheted, the second made the shooter duck.

The PPK clicked empty. Ryan hit the release, yanked the spent mag clear, and shoved in another. The slide stayed forward, so he racked it once, the action snapping loud in the still air. “Truck’s around the front,” he said.

“That’s where they are.”

“Yeah. But it’s still our only ride.”

They ran, low and fast, hugging the wall. Lucía stumbled once, caught herself, pushed on. Her right shoulder was slick with blood.

They reached the corner. Ryan risked a glance and saw the truck was still there, baking in the heat. Two men were standing near the front steps of the tax office, scanning the road. “On my mark, you run for the passenger side.”

Lucía’s face was pale but set. “Okay.”

He stepped out, fired three quick shots. The attackers flinched and scattered for cover.

“Go!”

Lucía bolted.

Blood trailed behind her as she sprinted for the car. She dropped beside the front fender andyanked the passenger door open, using it as a shield. Her back hit the metal, breath coming hard.