The Hitman's Bodyguard

Dumbass

It was a long while later before Darius pulled over. He sat still, staring out through the windshield. I sat up slowly, keeping low to stay out of view because I had been aware of the car following us for the last half hour. I had no doubt that if they were here for us, seeing me would be what started them shooting.

"Darius, what are you doing?" I hissed, leaning my head between the seats.

"I need to piss." He muttered back, his eyes locked on the empty road behind us in the rearview. "You seen anyone?"

"We're being followed, but they haven't seen me yet. I think that's the only reason why we're not fighting for our lives right now. The only way these people know for sure it's one of us is to see the other with them." I hurriedly explained as he turned his head to look at me with the biggest amount of 'fuck you' in his eyes. "I think I'm gonna stretch my legs whilst you piss." I jabbed my thumb at the boot where I had stupidly put most of my weapons, Darius nodded to me.

"Get something big for me, I'm feeling a little sad." He faked a pout, throwing the driver's door open and stepping out with all the confidence of someone who knew he could escape if he wanted to. I shook my head, unable to fight the fond smile that grew on my face. It wasn't unexpected, really. A lot of people liked Darius Kinkaid. He was enjoyable to be around. That didn't make him a good person, but it did remind me that he wasn't technically a bad one. Of course, his dark sense of humour definitely helped his case in my eyes.

I slipped out through the driver's, pausing momentarily to stretch out my back and legs, rolling my shoulders. I made my way to the boot and cracked it open. Looking through my collection, I took a small pistol for my ankle holster and slid a magnum into my waistband. I grabbed a couple of my best throwing knives and tucked them into my bra straps, ignoring the feeling of them biting into my skin. I took another handgun for Darius and then heaved my grenade launcher into my arms, ready for battle and fully prepared to hand off the grenade launcher to Darius so that I wouldn't have to lug the damned thing around.

That was when everything went to shit.

I heard the sound of a car engine revving and turned with resignation to face what would almost definitely be my death, the grenade launcher held across my chest immediately giving me away. I saw two people get out of the vehicle each holding guns of their own which were levelled at me. I slammed the boot lid closed and high-tailed it around the Mustang just as the gunfire started.

I grunted, lowering the grenade launcher onto the floor and leaning around the right side of the vehicle, sliding the magnum from my pants. I fired off six rounds, aiming for the head of the man on the right as the pair started to rush me. He fired repeatedly with his automatic rifle, one of his rounds catching my right arm and sending me careening backwards onto the ground.

"Dammit, Mickey!" Darius hollered at me as he pulled me up off the ground and shoved me up against the front of the Mustang to take cover. He slipped the handgun I'd grabbed for him from my pants pocket and stood to take his shots over the roof of the car. I pulled in a couple of deep breaths to steady myself despite the pain that burned through my arm. When he crouched to reload, I took my turn. Firing until I had to reload and vice versa.

Then, there was a reprieve. The men shooting us had to reload.

In the silence, I pulled Darius close and told him my plan.

"I'm going to rapid fire and push them back towards their vehicle. When they're close enough, you send a grenade and, hopefully, kaboom!" I made an explosion gesture with my hands. Darius looked at me like I was insane. I rolled my eyes at him then, with a grim expression, I stood and walked out from where we'd hidden at the front of the car. I fired relentlessly, deliberately knocking the men back instead of actually hitting them, dropping the magnum when I emptied the last available clip and taking my revolver from the ankle holster.

There were only six bullets in my revolver, and I knew that Darius knew. So, standing between the men and our vehicle, I fired my last six rounds and then threw my revolver at them for good measure.

The sound of a rocket launching roared past my left ear, and then, just like I'd hoped, the men and their vehicle went kaboom.

I ducked low to avoid the flying debris from the explosion. My hands covered my ears and I crawled on my elbows and knees until I made it around the car to where Darius stood with a beaming smile on his face, admiring the grenade launcher that I had gifted him.

He looked down at me and then at the vehicle as though to assess the damage to both.

I let go of my ears and straightened up to stand beside him. Taking stock of the damage to the vehicle myself.

"Fuck's sake!" I yelled out, irritated. The Mustang was riddled with bullet holes, the front grill covered in my blood, and the rear window smashed apparently as a result of the gunfire and explosion. "You good to walk?" I nudged Darius with my left arm, the right tucked up against my chest protectively now that I didn't need it. "We can't drive this thing." I kicked it just to show my disdain.

Darius gripped my bicep and dragged me away from it. The grenade launcher in his hand told me exactly what his plan for the car was. It wasn't long before we were leaving behind two smouldering wrecks and trekking away through a field.

"Well," I snickered as I tied a strip of fabric from the bottom of my shirt around the bleeding wound on my arm. "I'm glad that everything is going to plan so far."

Darius stopped, his stride faltering as he pulled me to a stop beside him. He levelled me with an unimpressed look and shook his head.

"Dumbass!"