Crimson

With a ping and pop my charmed bullet struck the gas tank and both motorcycles exploded. Flames and black smoke uncoiled into the air, like a cobra rising from a basket. Rushing forward, I slid across the ground scooping the valet box up in one swift motion, keeping my hand firmly between the lid and box’s mouth to keep it from closing. I waved at the dust to clear my field of vision. The buyers had vanished, while the thieves moaned and coughed.I only had a few minutes, if that.Once back among the headstones, I skipped and darted in a zig-zag pattern. Avoid the line of sight. I told myself between harsh, raspy breaths. Don't give them an easy target. I didn't just need distance, I need an advantage.
If anyone was back there, I didn't know. The further I got into the rows of graves; the taller the markers became. I cleared smaller ones to obscure my path, then twisted sideways to slip through the gaps between large statues like angels, cherubs or ancient world obelisks. Once satisfied I'd made a clean getaway I cut to my left, slowing to a wall as I neared the road,

"That was quite a firework show?” Warren's voice said in my ear, "Mission accomplished?"

“So far,” I shot back, listening for any discreet attempts to flank my progress.

"You should bunker down for a minute," Warren pressed. "No movement may convince them you’ve gotten away.”

I'd been skeptical of the idea when Warren had suggested it, most thieves relay on speed and distance. I usually agreed, but I couldn't argue how waiting could get out free and clear.
Settling against a headstone, I counted to ten then I stretched and moved to the one beside me, keeping my head low and careful not to disturb the arrangement around white headstone proudly displaying a clean white Christian cross and a small American flag.
I'd been fast, and while I hadn't tracked the buyers movements. Breathing through my nose, my heart relaxed allowing me to hear with sharper clarity and to take in my surroundings. The night was still empty of distinguish voices, security tactics or footsteps within my audible proximity.
That had me worried.

“I don’t like this. I got away to easily.”

Warren nearly shouted a reply. By instinct I brought a hand to my ear. “Move carefully. They’ll starting a search once they’ve recouped from the explosion.”
He was right, they wouldn’t miss a pay day. So far everything had gone according to plan, but an uneasy prickling crawled up my back, an indication that threats were close, and this night was far from over. Bringing my gun up towards my cheek. I moved to my knees and risked a glance back towards the crypt.

“Well, whatever happens, I better make sure I don’t lose this.” Cracking the case open my fingers gingerly removed a weighted velvet bag. I slid carefully into an inside coat pocket. The bulge was awkward, and it poked me in several unpleasant places. I winced, but shrugged it off, got to my feet and retrieved my gun. I adjusted my coat, it felt like I had overstuffed my pocket, but it wasn’t-

SNAP.

The sound was blood chilling, distinct and close, way to close for comfort or to be random. My fingers tightened around my gun, and I gave a slight bend in my knees, ready to bolt or fight.

“Amateur move Cris,” I mouthed, “a real amateur move.”