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I did my best to press the gas pedal right into the floor, and the car responded by growling and shooting backwards at a breakneck speed. The Corolla was left in our dust as I sped around a curve, but our reprieve was short-lived when the familiar lights slid past the bend like a luminous worm.
There was a secondary flash, quick and bright as lightning, and then my windshield gave a wheeze and a bullet tore through the interior, past all three of us, and out the rear window. I expected the safety glass to crack and shatter into a million tiny squares, but instead it seemed to move out of the way of the projectile, leaving a puckered hole in both windows and trailing spider-web cracks around the entry and exit points.
Kellen screamed loud and long. Brigit, who no longer needed breath to live, let out a gasp and braced her hand against the dash.
I rolled down my window, and a howl of cool April air blasted the interior of the car as we continued our frenzied pace along the highway with only the dim red lights of rear bulbs to guide us. I could see in the dark, but with headlights shining in my eyes and a car going backwards at almost sixty miles an hour, I was tempting fate on a scary level.
“Bri, my gun.”
“Where?”
“There’s one in the glove box.”
She didn’t need to be told twice. The glove box was open and the gun loaded and in my waiting palm before I had a chance to say please.
“I need your foot.” This time I had to take my gaze off the road to look at her because I wasn’t sure she’d understand what I was asking for. She was shaking her head emphatically even as she shifted in her seat, moving her legs from under the dash.
“You can’t.”
“What are you talking about?” Kellen piped in, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Don’t worry,” I told them both. “I know what I’m doing.”
It never ceased to amaze me, but whenever I used those words, people were stupid enough to believe me. And I think every time I said it, I hadn’t the faintest idea in hell what was going to happen next.
Brigit stopped shaking her head and Kellen sat back in her seat, muttering what sounded like the Lord’s Prayer. Good. If God was listening, we could use a little divine intervention for what I was about to do.
“On the count of three,” I instructed Brigit. She nodded her mute acceptance.
The window was rolled all the way down, and my hair whipped across my face. The whole left side of my body was alive with goose bumps, but my rage was so focused I couldn’t feel the cold.
“One.”
I undid my seat belt and let it wind itself up with a loud whir. “What are you doing?” Kellen asked. When I didn’t answer, she turned to Brigit. “What is she doing?”
“You really don’t want to know. Like really, really.”
I ignored them both. “Two.”
Letting up on the gas, I slowed the car just enough I figured we might not die in a horrible fiery wreck in the next second. Then I met Brigit’s gaze and smiled with forced hopefulness. She looked as grim as I felt.
“Three.”
Chapter Six
With the gun still in my hand, I shifted the stick back into drive. Using my left hand, I spun the wheel a full rotation before dragging myself out the open window. Brigit, true to her word, had managed to place her foot on the gas pedal, and we started to gain speed the second I was in my new position.
I hooked one heel on the upper curve of the steering wheel and wedged the arch of my foot on the lower portion, giving me an anchor within the car and also the ability to keep steering. Brigit could keep the gas going, but she couldn’t read my mind.
Now that the car was facing forwards again, I had to turn backwards to see our would-be assailants, and I had no intention of letting them follow through with whatever they had planned. Another burst of light and a loud crack preceded the arrival of the next bullet, but I kicked my foot slightly and the car veered to the right. A lock of my hair, newly severed, flew off and into the dark. I righted the car and then returned fire.
The first bullet was a direct hit, and the other car had a properly designed windshield because it shattered the instant the bullet struck, raining small pellets of glass all over the interior of the cab. The shards glistened in the light of the moon and my taillights, making them look like polished bits of bloody ice.
The car swerved, but I must not have hit the driver because soon enough they were back in the right lane and two more bullets zinged past me.
“Son of a—” Another bullet was fired, only this one didn’t miss.
Pain seared through my shoulder, and I lost control of the car when my legs twitched in response to the itchy burn between my collarbone and neck. Now I was really mad. I lifted the gun, but my arm responded by going limp and crumpling under the minor weight of the weapon. I was so startled by the uselessness of my own limb I almost dropped my gun.
