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- Mauga shrugged. “Who knows? Probably back at the mansion, dealing with the mess. Disappointed with everyone around him, as usual. I keep telling him that his face is going to get stuck like that.” He raised his gun, and Baptiste dove for cover. Bullets showered the concrete, tearing into the crates nearby. Mangoes spilled out, splattering Baptiste as he crouched behind a shipping container.
- Baptiste gripped his rifle tight. Mauga meant business.
- [...]
- He chanced a peek out from behind the shipping container. Another rain of bullets chased him back.
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