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Anya clicked a few more keys on the other side of the phone. By now, the streets were nearly empty. Large warehouses and auto shops bordered the dark street we drove down. There were two cars between me and William.
“He got the ticket on Fourth and Bird.”
“Fucking hell.”
“What?”
I gripped the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turned paper pale. “That’s two streets down from where Oliver and Derrick were attacked. That was the same time. Ten minutes after the attack. Jesus Christ.”
Will. He was the second masked assailant. He must have connected with Juan through Mario, and then those two fucking monsters went out to ruin a life.
But why? Why had he done it?
And tonight? Fuck, I wish I could turn back time only so I could strangle the fucker in my doorway. He hurt Oliver, my Oliver, and he had come to my front door looking like a distressed sewer rat, thinking it would make him seem more innocent in the long run. He must have thought it would keep the target off him, keep him living in the shadows.
But no. Not tonight, not this time. He managed to keep his hands clean for six years. He stayed in Oliver’s orbit, watching him for all those years, and it was all going to come to an end tonight.
Both of the cars in front of me decided to switch lanes at the same time. Like a fucked-up choreographed dance, the two buffers between Will and I moved to the side. I drove directly underneath a flashing streetlight, and I looked straight ahead, connecting directly with Will’s eyes in the mirror.
All hell broke loose.
He slammed on the gas, his Toyota burning rubber as the wheels desperately tried to grab traction.
“Shit. Call you back!” I hung up with Anya and gave chase, driving through the cloud of dark smoke Will left behind him as he tore down the other quiet street, the sound of both our engines battling echoed off the tall warehouse walls.
Wind hammered against the windshield. I didn’t have a professional race car, but my BMW wasn’t a pony either. I began catching up to Will. His car struggled as he pushed it to its limits, rocketing past a red light.
What in the fucking world was he thinking? The stakes must have been astronomically high for him to be trying to get away from me like this.
The road, a pothole-covered mess, wasn’t kind to my wheels. It felt like I was in a washing machine as I raced down the street, my car’s accelerometer reading eighty-five.
This was dangerous. This was stupid.
But this was Oliver who needed my help. I’d dive into an active volcano if I was told it would be the only way to save him.
Will started slowing before taking a sudden turn, his wheels screeching in protest. I followed, my car almost tilted on its side. I kept control and brought the floating wheels back onto the ground, my car giving a sharp jolt.
And then another jolt.
Another.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck.
The red light on my dashboard flashed, telling me my run-flat had been engaged. The potholes must have shredded a hole into my wheel.
Fuck!
William wasn’t that far ahead of me. Even with my run-flat, I still had a shot of outpacing him. I pressed down on the gas, both hands on the steering wheel as the streets started to open up. I could see the Miami bay to my left as we pulled out of the industrial zone. Here, the street was no longer empty.
Honks filled the air. William dodged and swerved through cars, threading the needle extremely close as he drove between two huge shipping trucks.
I almost lost him. If he kept going straight, I would have lost him.
He didn’t, though; he took a sharp right. I swerved and lurched onto the road he cut onto, almost getting sideswiped by another car, their bright white headlights filling my vision and painting the inside of my car.
The road we turned onto was empty. Straight ahead was a narrow bridge, yellow lights warning of a coming ship.
Yellow lights that went completely ignored. The bridge began to lift, William not altering his course. He drove straight ahead, accelerating. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Did he really think he was going to make that jump? Was he going to stop at the last second?
I started to slow, my jaw gaping.
William sped up as the bridge split apart. The bay’s water glittered underneath, dark and rippled by the oncoming boat.
“No, he can’t.”
He didn’t stop. He drove onto the slanted bridge, turning it into a ramp. The red Toyota became airborne, lifting up toward the sky before dipping back down, landing on the other side of the bridge with a loud bang.
The bridge, completely parallel now, stood as a wall, no longer a ramp.
I was stuck on the other side of it, completely shocked and at a loss for what to do next.
