To Kill For Read Online Free PDF

brain. I wouldn’t tell Browne, he’d only worry and fuss and I didn’t need that shit.
    I heard a car change down gear. I shook my head, trying to clear it, and flexed my hands. A black saloon turned off Meridian Way and drove slowly up towards me, and then made a left towards the cinema. It cruised into the car park and moved towards the back door.
    I took the leather gloves off, moved forward, took a hold of the Enfield and viewed the car through the scope.
    There were two men in the car: the driver plus one in the passenger seat. The driver was lean and black, the other man was stocky and white with a shaved head. Neither of them was Paget. If I’d been thinking more clearly, I’d have realized he wouldn’t come himself. I’d been so hell-bent on cornering him and gutting him that I hadn’t given the plan enough thought. It was a stupid fucking mistake.
    I looked through the sight and put a round in the car’s rear window. The glass splintered around the hole and the car lurched right and sped up, then spun in a one-eighty and came straight back towards me. I put another few rounds in the windscreen and the car lurched again and crunched into the rear wall of the cinema.
    The man on the passenger’s side kicked the door open and scrambled out. He started running towards the far end of the cinema. I let off a few rounds, but he was moving all over the place and I couldn’t get a bead on him. I fired a few times and missed by a mile. The first thing he was going to do when he got clear was call Paget and tell him it had been a set-up. Wherever Paget was, he would get out quick. I’d fucked the whole thing up.
    I stashed the gun and beanbag in the canvas grip, slung it over my shoulder and pulled out my Makarov. I walked over to the smashed car. By the time I got there, the driver had opened his door and was stumbling away, a ragged hole in the back of his denim jacket. He was leaking blood. When I got near, he turned sharply. My Makarov was up and ready, but he wasn’t armed, and the action of turning made him stagger and he crashed backwards. He yelled out in pain. His white T-shirt was soaked red from the chest down. I’d hit him high, left of his right shoulder. It looked like his collarbone was smashed. Blood was gushing out, but I didn’t think he’d die just yet. He tried to get up, and managed to prop himself up on his good arm. He saw the gun.
    â€˜Don’t,’ he said.
    â€˜Where’s Paget?’
    â€˜I don’t know.’
    He winced in pain.
    â€˜Don’t fuck about.’
    â€˜Paget would fucking kill me.’
    â€˜You’re dying now.’
    He looked down at his bloody shirt and looked up at me with eyes wide. The idea that he might be dying hadn’t occurred to him.
    â€˜I need an ambulance.’
    â€˜Yeah.’
    â€˜Fuck.’
    His right arm was useless and he tried to get a mobile phone from his pocket with his left hand, but without that to hold him up, he fell back and the phone fell from his grasp. I stooped down and picked it up and pocketed it.
    â€˜Get me an ambulance.’
    â€˜Where’s Paget?’
    â€˜Loughton.’
    I could be there in ten minutes, maybe fifteen. Not enough time to try and find an address, though.
    â€˜Take me there.’
    â€˜I’m fucking bleeding to death.’
    â€˜You’ll live long enough.’
    â€˜It hurts.’
    â€˜Yeah.’
    I grabbed a hold of the front of his shirt and jacket and hoisted him up. I turned him round, keeping the Makarov in the small of his back, and walked him to my car. He stumbled a couple of times and I wondered if we could get to Loughton before he lost too much blood. We got into the car and I started it up and spun the wheels and fishtailed onto Meridian Way.
    They hit us from three directions.
    The first car came straight at us. I slammed my foot on the brakes. The second had screeched to a stop alongside,