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“You know that’s not going to make the dick happy,” Royce said calmly from the passenger seat. “You really want to do this?”
Quinn ignored Royce’s comment. “How close are the police?”
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Royce typing out a quick text to Gidget. She was back in the office, monitoring the police scanner for calls into the Indian Hill Police Department. Nearly a minute passed before Royce grunted.
“She says they are still at least three minutes out. Ambulance has been dispatched for the woman.”
“And there he is.” Bright headlights washed over them as dark sedan turned onto the main road just across from them and sped away in a spray of loose gravel and barking tires. He grabbed his cell phone out of the center console and pressed it into Royce’s hand. “Call Shane. Tell him that the bastard is heading north on Drake Road. We’re only going to follow.”
“Got it. He’s probably heading toward Camargo Road. Gets into busier traffic. Easier to get lost and then onto the highway.”
“You know the area?” He waited until Carl had a couple of seconds’ lead before pulling away from the side of the road and trailing after him. He couldn’t follow too closely. The damn surveillance van was painted up as if it belonged to a local delivery company, but he didn’t want to look too suspicious.
“Yeah, lot of clients in the area.” Royce’s voice suddenly hardened as he started talking to Shane on the phone. Quinn could hear Shane shouting back at Royce to stop him from pursuing Carl, but Royce ended the call midsentence. “Your boyfriend is pissed.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” Quinn snapped. He pressed the gas a little, closing the gap between the van and the black Infiniti. The van rumbled and had all the maneuverability of a giant metal box on a skateboard. It was one of the rare moments that he missed his old, beaten-up Toyota. The thing might like to stall on occasion and the AC was busted, but she could take a corner when he wanted to, and she had kick-ass acceleration.
“You sure about that? Sounds real bitchy like a boyfriend.”
“He’s not bitchy, and he’s not my boyfriend.”
“I’m just saying—”
“It’s just sex. He’s not into relationships.”
Royce’s silence seemed even heavier now. Sure, Shane might not be into relationships, but Quinn would never turn down something a little more permanent and monogamous with Shane. Something that involved regular sleepovers and breakfast and cuddling on the couch in front of the TV.
Fuck. This was not the time to think about this.
“He’s speeding up,” Royce unnecessarily pointed out.
Quinn blinked away thoughts of Shane and noticed that the Infiniti was definitely pulling away from them at an accelerated rate. “Shit. I think he made us. I’m going to speed up. Text Shane and Gidget the make and license plate number. They can at least pass that on to the cops.”
“The asshole isn’t driving a sports car, but do you really think this bucket can catch him?”
Quinn stomped his foot down on the gas pedal and the van leaped forward with more power than either man expected. Royce swore loudly, grabbing at the handle on the ceiling right next to the passenger door while Quinn cackled. Apparently the van had a hidden surprise in the name of power under the hood.
As they closed in on the bodyguard’s car, Carl jerked the sedan over into the empty lane for oncoming traffic and slammed on the brakes. The bright rear lights flared angrily in the growing darkness. Quinn tried to slow the van down, but he was already traveling at such a speed that he caught up with the sedan quickly. He looked over to find the passenger window open on the sedan a second before he heard the first shot. The bullet slammed into the side of the van and Quinn hit the brakes harder.
“Fucker,” Quinn snarled as another bullet hit the van near the hood.
“Back off, squirt!” Royce shouted. “We’re only supposed to be following.”
“To hell with that. He’s shooting at us.” As the sedan started to pull away again, Quinn gunned the engine, trying to catch up.
“What are you going to do? This thing is like an old-fashioned bread truck. You can’t outmaneuver that car.”
“Not trying to.”
Quinn sped up so that the front of the van was lined up with the rear wheel on the passenger side. He turned the van into the car, using its superior size and force to spin the car sideways.
“Holy shit!” Royce yelled but Quinn ignored him. The sedan fishtailed as the bodyguard tried to regain control, but Quinn kept the pressure on, using the nose of the van to keep the sedan shifting sideways while making sure the bastard couldn’t regain control of the car.
Down the road, blue lights swirled and flashed off the trees and houses as the cops raced to meet up with them. Quinn sped up a little more and continued to push until the sedan slid off the road and into the thick green grass on the side. He pulled back as the sedan spun out in the grass and mud before the rear end slammed into a tree with a metallic crunch.
