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Clara clamps a hand over her own mouth. She knows better than to shriek at a time like this.
“How long?” I start rummaging through the glove compartment.
“Two minutes.”
“Where’s the?—”
“Under the seat.”
I reach down between my legs and fumble blindly under the seat until I feel it. The gun is lightweight and meant for emergencies; pretty sure this counts as one.
“I need a five-mile mark,” I tell him.
“Got it.”
Instead of taking a main road out, Pavel whips the Rezvani off the road entirely and plows through the desert in the opposite direction of home. More Hummers fly after us, but the sudden change in terrain and lighting slows them down just enough to give us some more distance.
“That’s five,” Pavel announces.
Perfect.
I roll down my passenger door window and pull myself out through it, gun in one hand and doorframe gripped with the other.
Once I’m in position, I rest on the window’s edge and aim.
The lead Hummer’s front tire blows with the first shot. It’s lucky, but hell, it’s about time Lady Luck gave me a blessing or two. Still, we’re losing city light fast and the jolting of the SUV over rocky terrain makes a steady aim nearly impossible. I won’t get that lucky again.
The Hummer I shot pitches and rolls, crashing into the one right behind it. But instead of giving us a break in the chase, it clears a path for three more to pull up side by side and close in behind us.
I’m leveling the gun again when something hot stings my arm.
Fuck!
I’ve been shot. Grazed, really. It’s less deadly than it is just fucking annoying and it makes holding my arm steady all that more challenging. But I grit my teeth and bear down, using the roof of the SUV to steady the hand holding the gun, and take a few more shots.
One hisses as it buries itself in the Nevadan sand.
So does another.
But the third lands home.
The satisfying sound of glass breaking and panicked shouts reaches my ears as the now-dead driver sags in his seat and pullsthe truck veering off-path. A few more bullets whizz past, and I’m forced to duck inside the vehicle to regroup before my head gets lopped off by a cactus.
“How many are there?” Pavel asks.
“At least five, and twice as many men. Think we can outrun them?”
“By fuel alone, probably. But that depends on how far you wanna go.”
I twist around to look at Clara. She’s wide-eyed and terrified, but she’s not screaming her head off. She just stares back at me, clutching her seatbelt like it’s a lifeline.
The answer is obvious: I’ll go as far as it fucking takes just to keep her safe.
“Do it. I’ll send the coordinates.”
Pavel’s face twists in a grim smirk. “Already done.”
We’re taking a few hits to the outer shell, but nothing pierces the windows. They’re probably trying to do what I did earlier and blow out our tires so we have no choice but to stop. Good luck with that, though. If I can’t aim in the growing dark, none of thosemudakswill be any better.
