CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Reid’s instincts kicked into gear instantly. He didn’t have time to get a look at his assailant; as soon as he saw the black suppressed barrel of a pistol, he leapt to the right. Maria leapt to the left, toward the kitchen.
The gun barked sharply twice, both shots striking the window overlooking the Fontana. Reid tucked into a roll, almost hitting the wall by overshooting in the tiny living room. He came up in a crouch and scooped up the largest shard of the shattered coffee mug, its pieces still strewn over the carpet.
Two more shots rang out. Reid threw himself back to the floor just in time and the bullets smacked against plaster, sending chips of it flying in his face. He grabbed the edge of the coffee table, hurled it upright, and took cover behind it. He’s using n
