Just One Night, part 5

This is the final part of the crime story I wrote 20 years ago, as a teenager. I have translated it now and changed bits here and there, but all in all I thought it was a pretty good story for a 13-year old. (I don't know what you think.) The most striking thing is that I left the end without any explanations of what was to come. In this version I made it seem like Brougher got killed, which isn't actually hinted at the original. In the final part the original version was pretty straightforward and the dialogue was ridiculous ("Do something! I don't want to die!") and I rewrote some parts of it. I may rewrite this still and post it as a whole story.

In the lobby, Doc, a short, shabby man, who handled all the emergencies in the hotel, was putting bandages over Moose’s arm. Camaro was standing by the door.
”What was the shooting?” Moose asked.
”I had to kill one of Hersey’s guys”, Brougher said.
”Who?” Moose asked.
Brougher looked at Suzie. ”I think it was Taylor.”
Suzie said: ”You knew him?”
Brougher said: ”Yes” and went to the door. Camaro said: ”The Fury came back.”
Brougher saw the old Plymouth sitting and waiting some thirty meters away from the hotel door. He knew it was full of men waiting for a chance to kill Brougher and his men and get Suzie Terrell. To silence her.
Brougher didn’t want that to happen. He felt his stomach tighten when he thought about Suzie. He hadn’t felt this for years and at first he didn’t know what it meant.
”Let’s get on with this”, he said and opened the door. Camaro followed him out.
The Fury started. It almost jumped when it drove past the door. A machine gun flashed in the window.
”Down!” Brougher shouted as he ducked.
Camaro didn’t make it. He got hit in the arm, worse than Moose just ten minutes ago.
”Fuck!” Brougher heard Camaro say.
Brougher got up and saw Suzie hiding under a table. The clerks were behind the desk. They wouldn’t take any customers tonight. Suzie’s dad had paid the hotel enough money to take the potentially dangerous Suzie as their customer, but Brougher knew Terrell had lots to pay after this.
He took a peek through the door’s glass windows. The Fury had parked just fifty meters away. Brougher saw someone rise from the car. It wasn’t Hersey. He was probably in the backseat, enjoying the show.
Brougher lit a cigarette and checked his Luger. ”I’m going to finish this thing”, he said and went outside. In his mind he kissed Suzie Terrell on the cheek.
The street was empty. The Fury had driven away. Jack cursed and threw his cigarette away. He wouldn’t be able to get Hersey this time.
He heard a siren somewhere. Damn those coppers, always getting in the way, Brougher said to himself.
Suddenly a man came from behind the corner. He was holding a shotgun in his hands and he was firing at Brougher. One of the bullets scratched Brougher in the leg. Brougher fired twice, but didn’t hit. He put his back against the wall.
The man shot again. The ricochet sounded off the wall and Brougher felt blood run on his left cheek. Jack took two quick steps and aimed. He shot twice. The man coughed and his shotgun fell to the ground.
The siren was closer now.
Brougher heard a low rumble coming behind him. He turned around and fired point blank at the Plymouth. The big red car drove past him. It was fast. Brougher saw a revolver at the window and heard a shot. He thought he saw Hersey when he felt something hit his stomach. The Luger fell from his hands. He collapsed and reached for his gun, but the Fury was too far away.
Brougher took a pack of Kents from this shirt pocket. He heard sudden, nasty creaking sounds and someone was shouting: ”Put your hands on your heads, you fucks!” Jack laughed and blood came from his mouth as he lit one of the cigarettes.