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I slid open a small hatch at the back of the limo. It opened to the outside but was hidden by a genius set of mirrors that worked to hide both myself and the gun barrel pointed in their direction.
This was not my first rodeo. I’d been in car chases before.
Behind the Durango, a large group of police cars was beginning to amass. The echoing of their sirens was deafening. Cars pulled off the highway as several cop cars began to block off traffic.
Tony was dependable. I’d known I could count on him.
Bronson was pushing past one hundred twenty miles per hour now and the Durango was still gaining on us. It was less than three car lengths away from us and I knew it was time to do something about it.
I aimed carefully. I was probably only going to get off one good shot before they realized what was happening, so it had to be perfect.
When I was ready, I pulled the trigger.
My aim was true. My bullet tore into the front left tire, jerking the wheel out of the driver’s hands. I had bet that the exterior was mostly bulletproof, but everyone always forgot about the tires. This time was no different.
The whole front end of the Durango jolted to the left as the tire quickly went flat. The steel hubcap skidded along the pavement and sparks flew as the man at the wheel struggled to keep the car under control. Bronson pushed the pedal to the floor and the limo picked up to max speed, putting as much distance as possible between us and the hobbled vehicle.
Time seemed to slow as the SUV veered to the left, heading straight toward the guardrail. The brakes squealed loudly as the driver tried to slow down, but it was already too late.
Physics had taken control now.
The Durango soared into the guardrail at a speed of at least one hundred miles per hour. The passenger side slammed into the metal, crumbling immediately as though it were a sheet of paper. The rest of the car hugged the rail on the passenger side, throwing the whole car into a rolling tailspin.
I pulled my gun out of place and closed the hatch, watching the aftermath of the crash. By the time the SUV came to a stop, there was a plume of dark smoke billowing from the tangled mess of metal. It rocked back and forth, and the smoke darkened considerably.
Only a fraction of a second later, the car exploded in a plume of fire.
It was the kind of crash not a single soul would walk away from.
“Take us home, Bronson,” I directed, leaning back with my arm firmly around Kasia’s shoulders.
“That was a lucky shot,” she ventured carefully. I noticed that she was a bit more tense against me now, like she was looking at me in a whole new light.
“I’m a skilled marksman, angel. I can hit the center of a target at a point of six hundred yards every single time,” I explained.
“Have you ever killed anyone that way?” she asked.
“I have,” I answered, keeping my voice low.
“Who was it?” she asked quietly.
“It was the man who killed my sister,” I answered.
The tension in her limbs melted away. She understood. I didn’t take pleasure in killing anyone. I did it to protect the ones I loved. Only one time did I pull a trigger in the name of revenge and that was for the cartel leader that had raped and murdered my sister.
His name had been Jorge Caro Salazar.
I remembered the first time I saw his face like it was yesterday.
I woke with a start to screaming in the middle of the night. For a second, I just laid there, trying to figure out if my mind was playing tricks on me. Was it a dream? A crack of thunder boomed outside, followed by a blinding strike of lightning. It was pouring and the constant drumming of rain on my windowsill made it difficult to focus on anything else.
Maybe I had just imagined it and it was just a nightmare.
But then, there was another scream and a sobbing cry.
It was real.
Instinctually, I knew it was my sister. I wasn’t sure how I knew. I’d heard her scream playfully when she was having fun or when she was being silly or overdramatic when hanging out with her friends, but this was so very different.
