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“Good plan,” Danny says, jumping to his feet as James jumps out the window. Danny watches him disappear. “Fuck that.” And runs to the door, yanking it open.
I opt for the conventional exit too, following him out.
And here we go.
Don’t get shot.
39
DANNY
* * *
James is on the lawn, motionless, aiming at the first X5 as it screeches off. “Fuck.” He lowers his gun and paces toward the other.
“Who’s driving?” Brad asks.
“Me.” James gets in the driver’s side. “I’m not trusting that clumsy fuck behind the wheel today, and you’re a better shot.”
“Me?” I blurt, outraged. “Clumsy? I didn’t see the fucking table.” I climb in the back, and Brad gets in the other side, laughing. “Fuck off.” I hit the button to get the back window down as James pulls off, throwing us both back in the seat.
“The good news is I can see them up ahead,” James says.
“The bad news is, I only have three bullets,” Brad adds.
“Five,” I mutter. “Would have been six but a coffee table fucked me over.”
James throws something over his shoulder. Two magazines. “See what you can do with nine and eleven.”
“You’ve got to get in front of them.” Brad switches his half-empty magazine for the full one. I’ll stick with five for now.
“Is there a jet pack on this vehicle that I didn’t know about?” James asks.
“Don’t be sarcastic,” I muse. “It’s beneath you.” James looks at me in the rearview mirror, and I give him a dashing smile. “We’ll try to shoot the back tires out.”
“Please do.” He takes a hard left, and I fly into the door, smacking my head on the frame, as Brad flies into me.
“For fuck’s sake, James,” I yell, rubbing at my head. “My face is fucked up enough.”
“Sorry.”
“Perhaps tell us when you’re on a straight.”
“Okay.” A hard right, and we’re flying across the car again. Brad grunts on impact, and again when I land in his lap.
I shuffle up and get back on my side of the car, reaching for the handle above the door. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in a car chase before. You?”
“Yes,” James grunts. The sound of screeching tires rings, and the smell of rubber burning invades my nose.
“Of course you have.” I tighten my grip of the handle and tense my muscles, keeping myself on the right side of the car.
“Straight.”
“Great.” Brad sticks his head out of the window.
“But watch the bus.”
“Fuck!” He dips back inside, his hair wafting as the bus passes. The poor fuck looks like he’s been stunned, his wide eyes staring forward, and I howl with unstoppable laughter. “Any fucking buses?” he grates.
