Free The Guardian by Bill Eidson Page B

you’ve been in my face tonight.”
    The man hit him again.
    Greg cried out. There was a sharp pain in his side, and he figured a rib was broken.
    He also figured maybe Ross had been right, too. That forcing the face-to-face meeting might’ve made things more dangerous for everyone.
    “Now, open the trunk,” the man said.
    Greg stood, breathing harshly. “There’s nothing in there.” He pointed again to the suitcase.
    “Open the goddamn trunk!”
    Greg tried, but the trunk was wedged shut because of the collision. He couldn’t get the key to turn. He said, “I’m telling you, there’s nothing in there.”
    “Yeah?” The man leveled the shotgun and Greg moved aside just as the gun spoke, blowing a hole through the trunk lock. The shot ricocheted through the back window and out the front. The gunman pumped the shotgun fast as the lid swung open and looked in … to find it empty.
    “Good for you. No cops. Now open that suitcase.”
    Greg quickly pulled it out of the backseat. He turned on the flashlight. “I just want to show you, right?”
    “Go ahead.”
    Greg opened the suitcase and flashed the beam across the stack of cash. He picked up the packets quickly, to show that it was all money, no tricks, no stacks of cut paper. “It’s all there,” he said. “Please, let me see her now.”
    The man bent down beside Greg to run his left hand through the money. “Jesus Christ.”
    The gun was pointed roughly in Greg’s direction, and for a moment, he considered trying to take it away. But the gunman seemed to regain himself, and he closed the lid and snapped the lock shut. He yelled over to the car, “Bring her over here!”
    The car door opened.
    Janine came running to Greg. “Daddy, oh, Daddy!”
    He was grinning so hard it hurt. He thanked God he’d kept his head, that he hadn’t pulled a stupid stunt, going for the gun. He swung Janine up to his chest, the lancing pain in his side nothing compared to the pleasure in his heart. He whispered, “Sssh, Janey. I love you, baby, but be quiet now.”
    Toward the gunman he felt an absurd kind of gratitude. Even though he still hated the man, there was a sense of their having gone through an ordeal together.
    The woman stood a few feet away. “She’s all right,” the woman said. “Your girl’s a good kid. She’ll be all right.”
    Greg turned to the man, who was looking in at the front seat of Greg’s car. “Are we through here?”
    The man turned on him. “You motherfucker.”
    “What?” Greg was bewildered.
    “You’ve got a car phone. You were going to call the cops, what, thirty seconds after I left?”
    “No.” Greg felt a hollowness in his belly. He slid Janine down to her feet as the man stepped up to him. “The car has always had a phone. Look, it’s not on.”
    The woman said, “Come on, babe, let’s go. We got the cash.”
    The man was shaking his head. “It’s not that easy.” He pointed the shotgun at Janine. “She knows my name. You’ve said it twice, now.”
    Greg stepped in front of Janine. “For Christ sake, we did what you said. You’ve got the money.”
    “And you …” The man raised the gun to Greg’s chest. “You got in my face—”
    “I didn’t hear your name!” Janine cried, her voice high in the night air. “I didn’t!”
    “Oh, yeah, you did, little chick.” The man put some heat into the words. “You sure did.”
    He’s building himself up, Greg realized dully. Just like his own father had done, building up into a rage over some trifle. Cold coffee, waking him up too early. It didn’t matter.
    “No, baby, don’t.” The woman stood beside Greg, in front of Janine. “She doesn’t know. I asked her.”
    “Nat, get out of the way.”
    “She doesn’t know!”
    “It doesn’t matter! Get the fuck out of the way!”
    There was a cracking noise off to the left. A flash of yellow in the darkness, and in the faint light from the BMW’s interior lights Greg could see the man’s shirt move on his