A light flashed in front of the diner. Another visitor had parked and was getting out of their vehicle.
Without realizing it, Ben was suddenly engrossed in the newcomer. He watched as the rectangular, boxy headlights flicked off — it was an older sedan — and the driver stepped out. Tall, thin, can’t see what they’re wearing. No passenger.
The visitor walked quickly, heading directly to the entrance. The man — Ben could now see him clearly — pulled the door open and walked inside.
“Good evening, go ahead and sit anywhere,” the monotone voice of their waitress called from somewhere in the back of the restaurant.
Julie realized Ben wasn’t paying attention to their conversation and turned to see what he was looking at. The man continued walking toward them. Ben locked eyes with him and began to stand up.
As he did, the man sped up. Ben’s heart raced. The man was now only fifteen feet from their table and closing the distance fast. Who is this guy?
He watched the man reach into the pocket of his coat. Ben saw out of the corner of his eye another flash of lights, then another. Two more cars. He reached down and grabbed the closest thing he could find.
A salt shaker.
From the man’s pocket, a gun. Small, compact. .380. Enough to do some serious damage from this range.
Ben didn’t wait. He jumped to the side, throwing the salt shaker. It struck the gunman in the forehead, knocking him backwards a few steps. He dropped the gun, instinctively raising his hands to protect his head from further attack.
“Julie! Run!” Ben called out. He’d landed beneath some bar stools set alongside the counter of the diner. He struggled to his feet, feeling the painful throbbing in his hip.
Julie was on her feet, running toward the door, but the man was chasing after her. He overtook her at the diner’s second exit, grabbing her waist with one arm. His other hand weaved up and around her left underarm. Julie was helpless, her arm completely pinned away from her body. She tried madly to swing it at him, but the man dodged the blows with ease.
Ben rushed forward, aiming for the attacker’s lower back. Just before Ben collided with him, the man turned, exposing Julie’s belly to Ben’s tackle.
Ben was moving too fast to stop, and the three of them fell backwards out the diner’s doors. They collapsed in a heap on the concrete sidewalk, but their attacker was on his feet almost immediately. He pulled Ben up and shoved him up against the tall glass window. Ben held onto the man’s wrist, trying to wiggle free, but the man landed a solid punch to his gut.
He felt the wind get knocked out of him, and he caught a glimpse of Julie running toward the man before he was released and fell to the sidewalk. The man anticipated the attack, grabbing Julie’s hands just as they fell toward his head. He twisted them sharply, and Ben heard her abrupt cry of pain. The man twisted harder, hugging her body close to his and moving his hands to her neck.
She was turned around, her back to his, so her punches had little effect. She danced around, trying to shove her heel onto the top of his foot, but the man was prepared for this line of defense as well.
The man’s grip on Julie’s neck grew tighter.
Ben blinked a few times, sitting up against the wall.
Get up. Come on, move.
He willed his body to work. His hip wasn’t broken, but it was obviously badly bruised.
He heard Julie gasping for breath, her arms and legs flailing wildly.
Get. Up.
He forced his lungs to accept a deep breath of air. It was painful, as if someone was stabbing him in the chest.
Not as painful as getting choked to death, he thought.
He stood up. Julie’s raspy voice broke through the gasps. “H — Help,” she said.
He ran forward. His footsteps were heavy.
The man could tell he was coming. He was expecting it.
As Ben got within a foot of the man’s back, an elbow caught him directly in the nose. Searing pain shot up his face, tears coming to his eyes. Ben stumbled backwards, nearly losing his balance again.
Just then he heard a shout. The lights from the other two vehicles became clearer.
Truckers.
Two men ran toward the trio, one of them shouting. “Hey! What the hell’s going on over here?” One of the truckers saw the man choking Julie. He ran toward them, and the attacker released her neck. She sucked in cold air, falling to her knees on the rocky parking lot ground. Tears fell from her eyes.
The attacker was too late to protect himself. The first trucker had reached him and landed a blow across his face. He followed the attacker backwards as he struggled to keep his balance, but before he righted himself the larger truck driver punched him in the side. He doubled over, and the man kneed him as hard as he could.
The second truck driver had reached Julie, and he bent down to help her. Ben crawled forward, trying to regain his balance.
He watched as their attacker jumped to his feet and began to run away. He ran toward a field, chased briefly by the larger truck driver. When it was clear to the trucker that he was being outrun, he turned back to the others.
“You okay?” he asked Ben. Ben was on his feet now, swaying, still trying to catch his breath.
“I’m good. I need to get back to my truck; see if I can find him.”
“You won’t find him,” the second trucker said. “He’s fast, and he’s probably got a ride somewhere nearby. Best call the cops and let them handle it from here.”
Ben was seething. He walked over to Julie, letting his arm fall to her side. He pulled her close to him, wanting to protect her. It’s too late for that.
She was sobbing, but she looked at him. “Are you okay?”
He realized what he must look like. He could feel blood draining from his nose, and he was having a hard time catching his breath. “I’m fine. What about you?”
She swallowed hard. “It hurts, but I’m okay.” She turned to look at the two truck drivers. “I owe you my life. Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it. Isn’t my first bar fight, but…” he looked at the now-empty diner. “I guess it is the first one I’ve broken up in a place like this. Why don’t you two get inside, get something to eat?”
She shook her head. “We’re fine, really. Thank you, both of you.”
The first trucker spoke up. “You two need anything? A phone, a ride?” He paused. “A drink?”
Ben nodded. It was time to ditch their truck. “We could use a ride.”
He knew the attacker — or someone — would be back. Whoever it was, they were going to be looking for them. They had to get away from there, and fast.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“What do you mean, you failed?” Valère asked.
He tried to steady his voice, to make it sound stronger than it was, for the other two men.
Roland and Emilio. Both were standing behind him, their meeting with Valère interrupted by this fourth man.
“I am deeply sorry, Mr. Valère,” the man said. “I encountered them in a small diner, and when I —”
“Them?”
“Yes. The target was with another man. Large, built, but not much of a fighter. I was able to —”
“Then why is the target still alive?” Roland asked. His voice boomed out over Valère’s shoulder, causing Valère to shudder. If only I had his commanding tone, he thought.
The man standing in front of him wasn’t sure what to say. “I–I think…”
“And that is the problem,” Emilio said. “You think, when we have simply asked you to act.”