Bullets from the intersection snapped inches overhead and to his side as he emptied the rest of his magazine at the shooter who had crouched next to the sedan’s rear bumper. The man pitched forward and caught his fall with both hands, his pistol still clutched in one of them. Devin ejected the spent pistol magazine and grabbed one of the spares concealed on his left hip, his brain doing the math. Time was not on his side.

His reload was quick and flawless, but the man had his gun up and pointed in his direction before he’d thumbed the slide release and chambered a round. Devin should have reserved a few bullets and assessed his first volley. He’d made a fatal error. Gunfire exploded in his ear, the heat from repeated muzzle blasts warming the side of his face. The shooter next to the car’s bumper slammed against the street, his arms giving out beneath him as several bullets peppered his body. The business end of Marnie’s Sig Sauer suddenly appeared in Devin’s peripheral vision, its barrel smoking.

He released his pistol’s slide and scooted behind the car, bullets fired from the intersection chasing him around the bumper. Devin searched the sedan for movement, finding none at the moment.

“Any left back here?” asked Devin.

“No. I took out the driver, front passenger, and the guy that was about to shoot you,” said Marnie, reloading her pistol. “This is my last mag.”

“I thought you were a helicopter pilot,” he said.

“Marine first. Helicopter pilot second,” she said.

A burst of automatic gunfire raked the sedan. Glass blasted across the top of the trunk and rained down on their heads, the car’s metal chassis thumping from multiple bullet hits along its side. Devin risked a look around the corner of the car, drawing more automatic fire, a few bullets punching through the trunk near his head. He counted at least three attackers moving in on his side.

Marnie’s gun barked twice before she was driven back by gunfire, sparks flying off the pavement next to her. She moved toward the center of the trunk moments before the taillight exploded, spraying her with plastic shards. Devin peeked around the taillight next to him with his pistol, firing at a man who had reached a point even with the hood of the car. His bullets caught the attacker high on the left side of his torso, spinning him to face the hood. Before Devin could drill the man again, a hail of bullets pushed him back-to-back against Marnie. They were out of room and nearly out of time. He saw only one way out of this now—for one of them.