The gray pickup came around the tractor anyway, tires spitting gravel from the opposite shoulder.
“Persistent asshole,” Nick said.
“Dedicated.”
“That’s worse.”
The road straightened.
But Sterling saw a shell road cut off to the right between two leaning palms and disappearing into scrub. The road they were on would lead toward the fuel stop. The shell road would not.
Sterling turned hard.
The truck hit loose shell and skidded sideways. Nick slammed into the door. “You could warn a person,” Nick said.
“Too busy trying not to get us killed." Sterling had always wanted to return from a mission with all his limbs and his heart still beating. But now he had someone to return to. He had someone he wanted to wrap his arms around, press his lips to her neck, and tell her how beautiful she looked in the moonlight.
That meant more to him than anything he could've ever imagined.
Branches slapped the windshield. The truck bounced hard enough to make the seat belt bite into Sterling’s collarbone.
Behind them, the pickup made the turn.
Its frontend slid, plowing the vehicle wide, then came back in line.
Pop!
The truck dropped with a violent jerk as the tire exploded.
Sterling fought the steering as shredded rubber slapped the wheel well. The back end tried to swing out. He let it move, then pulled it back before it could take them into the ditch.
Nick shifted in his seat, stuck his arm out and fired again. One shot hit the pickup’s hood. Another took out part of the windshield. The pickup swerved, but the driver stayed with them.
“We got a second vehicle,” Nick said, calmly. He was always calm in these situations.
“Go for the gap.”
Sterling kept the wheel steady until the last second, then cut right. The truck’s good tires dropped off the packed shell and into soft mud along the canal. The whole body tilted. The blown tire dug in and pulled them sideways.
The SUV’s passenger door opened.
A man leaned out with a rifle.
Nick fired first.
The man darted back inside.
Sterling clipped the SUV’s rear bumper with his left fender. The impact shoved the SUV sideways and spun Sterling’s truck toward the canal.
The truck jolted so hard his teeth snapped together. He’d left the CIA because he'd grown tired of getting shot at all thefucking time. Not that his work with the Aegis Network wasn't occasionally dangerous.
Obviously, it was.
But he preferred a few lazy Saturdays. Today wasn't one of them.
The shell road narrowed again. Ahead, a small wooden bridge crossed a drainage canal. Old. Sun-bleached. A bad idea built of lumber.
“You've got to be fucking kidding me," Nick said. “That thing won’t hold.”
