The Samaritan Read Online Free Page B

I ducked down and crawled back before he looked in the right place. I rose to my feet when I’d gotten far enough from the edge and started running back toward the line of units that housed the bar. The soles of my shoes were virtually soundless on the soft asphalt roofing, weathered by ten thousand sunny days. The roof was a long, flat rectangle, patched haphazardly and spotted with air-conditioning vents. It extended for a couple of hundred yards to the point where it intersected the line of units along the main road, of which the bar was one. Beyond the edge of that block, I could see the upper thirds of the palm trees that lined the road.
    I picked up speed as I headed for the end of the roof, calling up a mental picture of the street outside the bar as I ran. I estimated that Caroline’s coupe was parked at around the position of the tallest palm tree in my line of sight. She had a good head start, but I was taking the most direct route.
    I covered the distance in seconds, grateful for the explosion of energy after the days spent on planes and in cars and sitting down in bars. I heard the peal of a police siren from somewhere behind me as I reached the edge of the roof and peered over the edge. My estimate had been dead-on. The red car was parked directly below me, and Caroline Church hadn’t reached it yet.
    She was approaching fast, though. Running barefoot and carrying her boots in her left hand as she dug the keys out of her bag. I turned and looked the opposite way down the street, expecting the third man to appear at the corner at any moment. Small knots of people were beginning to wander up the side street, drawn to the commotion a little farther up like iron filings to a magnet. No sign of the third guy, though. Not yet.
    Caroline Church reached the car and fumbled with the key fob, finally finding the right button that made the lights flash and the locks disengage with a clunk . I took two steps back to give myself room and then launched myself off the roof, coming down on the car’s roof and then sliding off to the sidewalk, between Caroline and the car.
    “I’ll drive.”
    She caught her breath, looked back up the street the way she’d come, and back to me. She looked irritated. “Who in the hell are you, mister? And how do you—”
    “Hey!”
    The yell from the other direction snapped my head around. Coming toward us at a run, right hand buried deep inside the jacket pocket, the third man. Obviously, he’d seen what had happened to his boss and had made sure to remove himself from the immediate vicinity before the police showed up.
    I swung the door open and plucked the keys from Caroline’s hand as I got inside. I put the keys in the ignition as Caroline got in the passenger seat and slammed the door. The engine purred to life as our pursuer reached us, getting close enough to slap the dented roof before I peeled away from the curb.
    I reached across and pushed Caroline’s shoulders down, hunching down myself and snatching glances in the rearview as I accelerated away. The guy was still on the sidewalk where we’d left him. He had not taken the gun out of his jacket. As we hung a left on the first corner, I guessed he didn’t want to push his luck on what had already been a pretty bad night for his team.
    I resisted the impulse to floor the gas pedal, even though the streets were quiet. It would take guy number three a couple of minutes to reach his car, if he even had one. By taking a few random turns, I could make sure the trail was nice and frosty by then. The last thing I wanted to do was draw attention to a car leaving the scene of a shooting. I navigated down a series of side roads before finding the South Federal Highway. When we’d put a mile or so between ourselves and the bar, I slowed down and started paying attention to the signs.
    “Okay, who the hell are you? Really?”
    “I told you.”
    “Bullshit. You’re no consultant. And why have you been following me? Are you some kind