Invasion USA Read Online Free

from the task, pain twinged in her lower back. Damn it, she was only twenty-eight years old, she thought as she paused to rub her back for a second. She shouldn’t have all these aches and pains yet.
    That was what being a mother did for you, she supposed. Stole your youth and made you so tired you didn’t give a damn about anything except getting through another day.
    â€œGet in the car, Andy,” she snapped as she opened the driver’s door of the Nissan.
    He had run off into the yard of the neat little brick house. “I don’t wanna go!” he called back to her.
    â€œWell, you’re going whether you want to or not, so get in here right now .”
    Andy was only seven, but he knew not to argue when his mother used that tone of voice. With an exaggerated sigh, he came over to the car, climbed through the open front door, and sat down hard on the seat.
    â€œClose your door,” Carla told him.
    He slammed it and pouted.
    â€œAnd buckle your seat belt.”
    â€œIt’s hard. I have trouble with it.”
    â€œDo it anyway.” Carla started the car and checked the rearview mirror before she backed out onto the street. She caught a glimpse of her face. She was still pretty. Wasn’t she? Her hair wasn’t bad, and her body was still okay. You couldn’t really tell she’d had two kids. Her husband Danny—ex-husband now—had been a fool to leave her. She could have made him happy. Well, it was his loss, she told herself, as she did at least half a dozen times a day. She had only been single for eight months. She would find somebody else. The fact that she was nearly thirty and had two kids and all the statistics she read in the women’s magazines were working against her didn’t matter. There was always Ray Torres, the owner of the insurance agency where she worked. She had seen him looking at her with interest in his eyes more than once. Of course, he was married, but she knew for a fact that he was having trouble with his wife and his marriage probably wouldn’t last. Maybe she ought to give him a little encouragement, try to speed things up . . .
    â€œWe’re gonna be late,” Andy said.
    â€œI thought you didn’t even want to go.”
    â€œYeah, but if you’re gonna make me go to Bible School, I don’t wanna be late.”
    â€œAll right, all right, we’re going.” Carla backed from her driveway onto the street, then put the Nissan in drive and started toward the Little Tucson Baptist Church, which was about two miles away on the other side of town. She glanced at the clock on the dashboard. 9:15. Vacation Bible School started at 9:30. They had plenty of time to get where they were going.
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    The two men who walked into the bank were young, Hispanic, and dressed stylishly in baggy T-shirts and jeans. Al Trejo didn’t really pay any attention to them until they walked past his desk toward the counter. He didn’t remember ever seeing them in the bank before, and that brought a worried frown to his face. Al glanced through the glass of the front door at the Explorer the men had gotten out of. He saw the man behind the wheel and the faint ripple of heat rising from the engine.
    The Explorer was still running.
    There could have been other explanations, of course, but to Al’s mind all the factors had come together and could mean only one thing—the bank was about to be robbed. He started to his feet, his hand reaching toward the holstered gun on his hip, his mouth opening to shout at the two young men.
    They must have been keyed up, expecting trouble. One of them turned swiftly toward Al, reached under his shirt, and pulled out a compact machine gun. The weapon flared and sent a short burst stitching across Al’s chest. The shout died in the security guard’s throat, forever unvoiced. He was thrown backward by the impact of the slugs as they ripped through his lungs and pulped his