Free The Golden Girl by Erica Orloff Page B

on the first floor, peering over a metal railing, she could see yellow police tape still strung around a spot on the floor with a dark stain. Maddie felt queasy.

    However, any thoughts of queasiness were soon replaced because she could hear the sound of a car’s tires crunching on gravel, and the dog began its fevered barking again.

    Maddie looked around. Whoever it was would know she was here. They would search the warehouse until they found her. She decided if that was the case, she’d at least be in a good vantage point to take a shot or two at her enemy. And if that enemy turned out to be her father? She’d have to see what the heck he wanted and tell him to come clean. That worry—what she’d find about her father if she came here—had kept her from alerting anyone to her plans. Now she realized how rash she’d acted.

    Moving quickly, Maddie opted to hide behind a shipping container. She could peer around the side of it, and she was protected from any returned gunfire.

    Whoever was after her, they had the key. From her vantage point, she saw the downstairs door open—a big, wide door, wide enough for a small truck to drive through. Two men came in—neither of whom she had ever seen before.

    One made hand gestures, indicating he was going upstairs, and his partner was to look downstairs. They separated, and Maddie readied herself in a shooting stance. Not that she was prepared to kill anyone now or ever.

    The guy who was coming upstairs started taunting her in an accent that sounded vaguely Eastern European.

    “Come out, Blondie. Come out, come out, wherever you are. We won’t hurt you. Much.” Then he cackled.

    When he reached the upstairs landing he started creeping from side to side in the hall. Moving target, in the dark. Maddie knew as soon as she fired, her position would be revealed. Her heart racing, now her conscience was hoping she could hit him. He had a gun drawn—she had no idea what type it was, but it had a silencer on it, and it looked big. Then she saw a red dot on the wall. Great, she thought. He’s got infrared, the better to see me in the dark.

    Maddie lined up a shot as best she could, not wanting to kill, just stop him.

    She gently squeezed the trigger, aiming for his thigh—she hit him.

    “Son of a fucking bitch! I’m hit!”

    Whoever he was, he had stood about six foot three, and now he crumpled like a sack of potatoes, falling to the ground, his gun clattering across the metal floor.

    From downstairs, his partner in crime called up to him. “You okay?”

    “Shit! I’m bleeding like a stuck pig. Get up here.”

    Maddie listened, but the guy’s partner sure didn’t sound as if he was rushing up to his aid. Eventually, the other guy did appear on the landing. He had his gun drawn, too, and then went and stood over his partner. Taking aim, he shot him casually in the head.

    Maddie’s eyes widened, her adrenaline already pumping after shooing the first guy. Christ, she thought, if he’ll do that to his partner, what the hell is he going to do to me?

    “Come out, bitch. And I won’t kill you.”

    He started toward her, and she fired off two rounds, both missing wildly. “I’ve called 911!” she shouted.

    He seemed to buy her bluff. He retreated, kicking his partner’s body on the way out and muttering something in Russian. She was fluent in French, German and Spanish, but she had a smattering of Russian and Greek. Then she heard the second man running down the metal staircase. She heard another shot and the whimper of the dog. God, who were these guys?

    She came out from her hiding spot and then ran outside, avoiding looking at the dead body on the way. She had never been close to a dead body before except at a couple of funerals. Seeing the taillights of their car, she squinted but was unable to get a plate number. She walked across the parking lot and prepared to climb over the fence again.

    “Damn them!” All four of her tires were slashed. Her precious