Boston Blues - BLACKBIRD book 2

9. jump the hedge

Brock signaled Fred to go with him and left Gillian and Ron at the driveway, working on some crazy plan he would find out about soon enough. Banks was back, with Hank by the SWAT truck, and Brock couldn't help feeling awkward yet once more at the serious attention all of them paid to his instructions. He was beginning to wonder what Gillian had told them about him, to get these seasoned smartasses to listen to him like exemplary students.

Taylor, who was keeping an eye on the house, gave them the heads-up. "Guys, all the lights just went off and I can hear noises, as if they're pushing furniture."

Brock hurried back with Fred and Banks, while Hank stayed with the SWAT team, waiting for their call.

"Talk to me, lads!" urged Gillian from the driveway. She and Ron had found a hole in the hedge, like one a dog would make, just between the back of the stolen car and the garage door, so they were busy opening it as much as they could.

"They're barricading themselves in," said Banks. "They're waiting for us."

"They trust we won't breach in while they have Jimmy with them," said Brock, leaving them to rejoin her. "But they're taking no chances."

"Two shooters, Reg," informed Fred after a quick look. "Collins by the front door, Lee upstairs. Both of them have semiautomatic rifles."

"Okay. Hank, bring in the big guns. I need two minutes and some noise."

"You got it, Reg," Hank replied, leading the SWAT team to the house. "You give us the go."

Gillian turned to Ron and Brock. Her heart raced, but nothing about her gave it away. "I need one of you with me, the other one here ready to grab Jimmy through the hole."

She didn't wait to see who did what, and hurried past the garage and around its back wall. There she grasped the hedge branches and climbed up to swing her leg over it.

"Now, Hank!" she ordered, jumping over the fence.

On the street, SWAT parted in two groups and spread out to approach the house from both sides, weapons ready. Hank, Banks and Fred came behind them, guns drawn.

Hank's voice thundered across the lawn. "BOSTON PD! OPEN THE DOOR!"

The only answer was a shot from the upper window. It hit a SWAT agent's vest, missing his throat by a few inches. SWAT opened fire according to Brock's instructions: don't take the shooters down, but keep them busy.

Gillian blocked out the noise of the furious gunfire coming from the street. She was already behind the garage and stuck to the corner. She didn't need to look back to know it was Brock with her—his cologne told her so. She drew her gun and risked a glance at the house. Once she turned the garage corner, she'd be in plain sight of whoever might look out the kitchen window, with no chance to take shelter if looking turned to shooting.

"Ron, you're my eyes," she said, cursing under her breath.

Then she spotted the small patio table five yards away from her, closer to the house. It was old, thick wood. If she could only knock it over, it would work as a shield. She had barely moved her foot when Brock's firm hand pressed her shoulder. Gillian turned her head to glare at him for stopping her.

"They're using long guns, that wood won't shield you," he said.

Shit! Good moment to play the mentalist!

"Reg, you got one going out back," Ron whispered then, peering through the hedge.

"What can you see?"

"He's got a rifle, and he's bringing Jimmy."

"Tell me when to move."

"He's taking Jimmy to the car. Hold... hold..."

Gillian held her breath and tightened her grip on her Glock.

"Go!"

Before Brock could stop her again, Gillian moved around the garage corner and sneaked along the side wall toward the house.

Ron kept reporting. "He's opening the trunk and stuffing the boy in."

"I gotta push'im away from the car!" whispered Gillian.

"Now!"