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Their cover wasn't meant to last. A bullet chipped the edge of the stone, a stark reminder. She could feel Ethan's urgency matching her own.
"Suppressing fire on my go," she instructed, voice a low growl of intent. "Three... two..."
Ethan's hand clamped on her arm—an anchor in the chaos. "Now!"
They erupted from their haven, guns blazing, sending a hail of defiance towards the RV. The night air shattered with each round.
"Keep pressure," she commanded, reloading with swift precision. "Two gunmen in the RV. Another is behind the structure--he's hiding."
"See him!"
"Go!" she said as she began moving down the ridge, away from the boulder, towards the cook shack.
"Covering!" Ethan's response was immediate, his shots deliberate, buying her the precious seconds needed.
Rachel's pulse thrummed in her ears, syncing with the rapid-fire exchange of gunfire. Amidst the venomous dance of bullet trails and muzzle flashes, her gaze snagged on the glint of a metal canister set beside the ramshackle meth lab—a propane tank.
Even as she moved, keeping low, and staying out of line of sight from the windows, her focus narrowed. She steadied her breathing, aimed, and squeezed the trigger. The report of her sidearm was lost in the cacophony, but its effect was immediate and explosive.
The gas tank erupted, a fireball clawing skyward, searing the night. A man was sent sprawling, silhouetted against the sudden inferno. Disoriented shouts pierced the ringing in Rachel's ears. She didn't waste a heartbeat.
"Move!" she barked, vaulting forward, and scrambling down the rock-strewn incline.
Ethan was right there with her, a fluid shadow mirroring her actions. A second man came stumbling out of the meth lab, screaming and batting at flames on his arm. This man spotted them, cursed, and then he reached for his weapon—a fatal mistake. She was on him a second later, and Rachel's boot connected with his hand, sending the gun skittering across the sand.
"Stay down!" she commanded, her tone brooking no argument as her knee pinned his arm to the ground.
"Clear!" Ethan called out simultaneously, having dispatched the second with practiced efficiency; two shots to the chest. The man behind the trailer had been attempting to sneak towards them, and now she spotted him bleeding on the ground, arms splayed, red seeping into the sand.
The desert night was ablaze with the aftermath. Shadows danced on the sandstone as firelight licked the sky. Rachel's eyes were sharp, tracking past the orange glow to where a figure darted—a wraith in the chaos. A man had climbed out the rear window of the trailer.
"Carlos!" she hissed.
Ethan swung toward her line of sight, weapon raised, but she was already moving, muscles coiled with intent.
"Cover me!" She didn't wait for a reply; their rhythm was beyond words now.
Sand crunched beneath her boots as she sprinted to the ATV, its engine still warm from their recent arrival. The keys dangled from the ignition, a taunt. In one fluid motion, she mounted the vehicle, her fingers wrapping around the keys and twisting them with an ease. It wasn't the same as riding a horse--something she far preferred, but The ATV roared to life, a beast awakened, its headlights piercing through the swirling dust and smoke.
The ATV surged forward, jolting beneath her as she navigated the treacherous path down into the gulley. Each bounce, each jostle, she absorbed with the resilience born from years of training, honing her body to be as relentless and unforgiving as the Texas landscape she called home.
Carlos was a shadow flitting between the cacti, his desperation palpable even at a distance. But Rachel was a force of nature herself.
The ATV's engine growled beneath her, a feral soundtrack to the hunt. Sand sprayed behind her wheels as she pushed the machine to its limits, closing the gap between predator and prey with each thunderous heartbeat thudding in her chest.
"Come on, come on," she coaxed, urging more speed from the ATV as Carlos’ silhouette grew larger against the backdrop of the star-studded sky.
Her hand tightened on the throttle, fingers steady despite the adrenaline that coursed through her veins. She knew the land, could read it like the lines etched into the palms of her hands.
Carlos glanced back, his eyes wide with the fear of a cornered animal. Rachel saw it, felt a surge of grim satisfaction. He knew he was running out of desert to run through.
"End of the line, Carlos!" Her voice tore through the night air.
The pimp veered suddenly, aiming for a narrow passage between two rock formations, but Rachel anticipated the move.
She was upon him then, the distance between them erased by her relentless chase. With a deft maneuver, she pulled alongside him, reaching out to grab hold of his jacket. They tumbled together in the sand, a whirlwind of limbs and desperation.
"Gotcha," she breathed out, pinning him beneath her.
