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“We’re less than one,” she says, planting her hand on the dash to prepare for the sharp turn up ahead. “Notify all unis for backup. We’re in pursuit.”
I take the turn, feeling the tires lose traction with the road. Gripping the wheel tighter, I pull the car straight and punch the gas. Then I lock onto it. The transport van is making time in traffic, doing the speed limit. Trying to go undetected.
You’re fucking detected.
Thanks to the brains in the department, they were able to override the disabled GPS system on the bus. And now we’re close.
She’s close. I can feel it. Still, the fucking ache in my chest won’t stop until I see her inside the van…alive.
I reach for the controls and shut off the siren, but it’s too late. The bus guns it.
“Shit.” A stealth attack is lost. Time to improvise.
“Find something and hang on,” I advise Sadie.
Pulling up beside the Audi directly behind the bus, I honk. The driver looks over, a pissed off expression on his face, until he sees the flashing blue and reds. I flip on the siren, and his car slows to a crawl, getting annoyed honks from the cars piling up behind.
I snag the radio. “I need a stretch of GWM cleared up ahead, Carson. Make it happen.”
“I got you,” he replies.
I hope he does.
The bus picks up speed. I stay on its tail, keeping at a safe distance. We need to stop it before it reaches a dangerous speed.
“Bonds. Shoot the back tire out.”
With another cop, I might get a shocked retort. A complaint about filling out paperwork for discharging their weapon. And I wouldn’t ask anyone that I didn’t trust to pull it off while keeping Avery safe.
That’s exactly why I ask her.
Sadie doesn’t hesitate. She unbuckles her seatbelt and unclips her SIG from the holster. I lower the window for her as she peels off her jean jacket.
“Aim low,” I say.
Gaze straight ahead, she says, “I’m good.”
Angling her body halfway out the window, she tests her balance. She keeps her gun out of sight until I’m close enough. Then she hunkers near the side-view mirror and aims.
Pop. Pop.
Two blasts. One from her gun, the other from the tire blowout.
The van zigzags with a screech as the driver tries to regain control. I veer off to the left, coming up beside the bus to help guide it onto the median. The driver puts up a fight at first, but I nudge him—not so lightly—with the side of the Crown Vic and he relents.
He knows he’s through; he’s not making an escape on a flat.
I’m already pulling my gun once I’m parked ahead of the van. “Stay here—” I say, but Sadie’s opening the door before I can finish. “Shit.”
I jump out and round the car, gun aimed. “Hands on the wheel! Hands on the wheel! Let me see them.”
Adrenaline soars. My roaring blood pulses in my ears as I get a lock on the driver. From my peripheral, I glimpse Sadie mirroring my stance, gun drawn and ready to fire at any threat.
My gaze snags the man’s hands as he eases them onto the wheel. Slowly, I move in.
And I see her.
Avery’s there, her face just visible through the grate divider.
