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Dean slowed the bike, then yelled, “Hold on” before he turned, low to the ground.
Ophelia closed her eyes and clung, but he was in control, bringing the bike upright and turning them back the way they’d come.
They headed toward the black SUVs coming right for them. Neither slowed down.
She felt the rush, the fear, and could do nothing as the vehicles neared. Then at the last second, Dean turned the handlebars, only a fraction, and shot to the left onto the sidewalk, then back onto the road while pulling his gun. He fired as he passed each of the SUVs. The first one swerved, then crashed into a concrete wall, the engine exploding, the second one went into a spin and flipped and turned over and over until it landed on its roof. The third one couldn’t stop in time and slammed into the second vehicle.
“Hold on,” he shouted. He reseated his gun, grabbed the handlebar, braked, and shot down an alley.
“That was awesome!” She still had a death grip on him.
“Hopefully, we won’t have to do that again.”
She held on for the ride of her life.
Dean pushed the motorcycle, and she kept quiet so he could focus. She looked up when she saw the lights. An LAPD chopper hovered above them. Ahead of them, she saw the white tractor trailer and the two SUV guard dogs. She motioned ahead of her and the chopper banked and flew after the truck.
She put her phone to her ear, giving her commander more information.
His words chilled her to the bone. “Ophelia! They have your sister! I just got a call for you to back off or they’ll kill her.”
Everything slowed down, her mouth going dry with terror. She looked up as they neared one of the SUVs and saw Katie’s petrified face pressed up against the vehicle’s back window as she struggled, throwing her head back into the man’s chin. Then she disappeared.
“Oh, God. Dean! They have Katie!”
She screamed into the phone. “Call off the chopper!”
But it was too late. The chopper whipped around, the gun turret spitting out bullets that slammed into the radiator of the semi-truck they were following. It jackknifed, the engine locking up, taking out the SUV in front of it as it skidded across the road and tumbled over and sliding to the top of the ravine.
The SUV with Katie inside was forced to brake hard, and Dean had to follow suit or smash into the back of it. The Vincent skidded, the back fishtailing as it caught an oil slick from the semi. Ophelia watched as the chopper veered off, flying away. Any help they would get was gone. The motorcycle’s tire blew, nearly tearing the metal hub in half and sending the machine ass up and forward. It sailed through the air, breaking her and Dean apart and dropping them into the gully.
* * *
Dean dug his fingers into the ground to keep from flinching as bullets whizzed overhead and through the weeds around him. His body reeled from the impact and the hard roll down to the river. His ears still vibrated with O’s scream. Ignoring the spikes of pain and the cold water running over his boots, he endured for several seconds. He had no idea where she’d landed.
He heard footsteps move from his position, and he opened his eyes, squinting in the dark. Above him, spears of light from the truck’s headlights projected over the ravine and silhouetted several men walking the gully and creek.
His gaze swept the area in a quick search, but it was too dark.Please be alive, he thought. After the shower of bullets… He couldn’t complete the thought. He couldn’t lose her again.
He moved, and when that didn’t draw attention, he pressed his luck and rose up enough to quickly scan the area. She was likely nearer to them, and he reached for his gun. It was gone. Searching provided nothing except wet weeds and dead leaves. He went still again as the men splashed through the trickle of river water, water droplets hitting him, and all Dean could see was a pair of boots in ankle-deep water. He held his breath. It would be over in a spew of bullets.
Where the hell was O?
* * *
The impact pushed the air from her lungs, and all she could think was that this was worse than falling down from the LAPD climbing rope. She forced herself to move, to roll over, and keep rolling sideways. At least she thought she was moving sideways, and she scrambled under the exposed roots of trees. Her head throbbed, her hands and knees scraped and burning. She brushed leaves and branches onto herself, leaving nothing exposed. In the back of her mind, she was inside a potential snake nest, but consciousness was slipping.
Then she didn’t care.
* * *
Dean watched them, the morning sun beginning to rise and coat the men in a gray mist. Only his gaze shifted as the lead man moved through the ravine. He covered the entire area efficiently, but it was his hand signals and gestures that were familiar, engrained, and Dean realized they were mercenaries. Damn. He was facing Spec Ops guys.
When the men retraced higher up the crevasse, Dean slowly rolled to the side and rose to all fours, crabbing up the hill. He had to find O, rescue Katie. He moved in the shadows, picking up his hands and feet and placing them carefully. Sound echoed and bounced. His palm brushed something hard, and he closed his fingers around his gun, grateful for something in his favor. Hopefully, the magazine was still in it. And he still had his knife. He shifted to his side, stretching to look up at the truck, SUVs, and men.
The lone silhouette of a teenaged girl huddled against the SUV.
“Dean?” O said from below him. He glanced left. Three fingers wiggled in the leaves. He let out a breath, head down, then backed up and moved toward her. He slid into the cover of the roots.
