Kantrell brought her head up and looked around in a daze. She saw two men hop out of a red Ford F-150 pick-up truck. They wore matching red bandanas over the lower halves of their faces. Their gloved hands were wrapped around black Uzis. Her mouth went dry and her heart raged inside of her chest. A panic alarm rang inside of her head, telling her she’d better put up a defense to protect her life.
She reached down over the passenger seat, popped the locks on the briefcase and picked up her Glock. She went to lift the gun and sprays of automatic gunfire came from both sides of her. The rush of bullets came in and out of her from all angles, decorating the inside of her car with splatters of blood and broken glass. Her head lay against the headrest. She stared up at the ceiling looking throu
