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“Let’s go,” he told her and ushered her to the stairs.
They made it to the ground level in less than a minute. He was grateful she’d stayed in shape.
Standing by a big blacked-out, armored SUV were Scope, Kyle and Holland. They hustled Ava into the third-row seat and told her to lay down which she complied with. Scope got in the driver’s position with Holland in the front passenger seat. Kyle and Cap got in the back seats.
“Two motorcycles just pulled up out front,” Scope reported.
“Take it fast,” Cap ordered.
Then they were off, speeding through the garage and hitting the exit going full bore. Gunshots rang out, pinging off the SUV which he’d outfitted with bullet-proof armor. The armor slowed the vehicle down some but they were flying down the empty, early-morning Chicago streets at nearly ninety miles an hour.
Scope took a turn and more shots rang out.
“I need to take out that lead motorcycle,” Cap told Holland. “Turn your volume down and stay where you are,” he yelled to Ava.
She was holding on for dear life. Her face showed no fear though only resolution.
The lead motorcycle pulled forward ever so slightly and Cap lowered his window, firing off six quick shots. The motorcycle crashed into a parked car.
One down.
“The jet is ready,” Kyle stated. “The next ‘cycle is mine.”
The second ‘cycle pulled even with the SUV and Kyle dispensed with them the same way Cap had his.
Then they were flying once again through downtown Chicago looking for an entrance ramp to the freeway. Scope drove like a madman but there’s no one Cap would rather have driving. He gave defensive new meaning.
“Fuck, more motorcycles,” Holland yelled from the front.
They caught up in a fucking hurry and Cap cursed. “How much farther to the airport?”
“Five minutes,” Scope said.
“Lower the back window. Kyle you ready? Make every shot count,” Cap ordered her.
The back window splintered, then blew out before it could be lowered. The motorcycles were shooting back. Cap and Kyle sprayed bullets, eliminating four of the five following them.
Cap was out of bullets so he reached back for his third Glock. Kyle was reloading as Scope took evasive maneuvers.
“Come on, motherfucker,” Cap said in a near whisper. “Just a little closer.”
Bam! He took the last ‘cycle out with a single shot. The highway was now littered with bodies and motorcycles, but he’d leave it for the police to siphon through.
“Get us to the airport, Scope,” Cap demanded.
“Yes, sir,” Scope said with a smile. The crazy bastard loved this part of the game.
Cap hated it.
He turned to Ava and she was white as a sheet but looking none the worse for wear.
“Holland?”
“Yeah, Cap?”
“Find out how they knew. Call Tex and tell him what happened. They shouldn’t have been on us this fast.”
“Already put in a call while you were playing cops and robbers,” Holland reported. “Should know something soon.”
