Goodness knew that’s what John was doing. The rum distillery’s gift shop door was locked and chained closed, so he unloaded the rest of his magazine onto the glass, then shouldered his way out as the barrel room exploded into a belch of flame and violent energy that threw him to the concrete ground. With a shake of his head to clear it, he jumped up and sprinted past the front gate of the distillery, his head on a swivel looking for Logan’s crew or the cops. Above the ringing in his ears from the roar of flame and explosives emerged the sound of sirens wailing in approach. He pushed himself faster, eyeing a car repair garage two blocks away. At his first glimpse of a car bumper, he threw himself into a thicket of vines and shrubs on the side of the road. Another look, though, and he realized it was the stolen hatchback, with Alicia at the wheel. He gaped at the car in shock and wonder...and a heaping dose of relief. She screeched to a stop in the middle of the road.
