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"We have to get her back," Harry said, his voice laced with a determination that allowed no argument. "What the hell was she thinking?”
Mick nodded, his expression grim. "We'll find her, Harry. We'll bring her back."
Kenan's voice, still on the line, was resolute. "We'll do everything we can on our end. I'll coordinate from here. Stay safe, and keep me updated."
The call ended, leaving Harry and Mick with a new mission, one far more personal and desperate than before. The night had taken a dark turn, and now, more than ever, they needed to be smart, swift, and relentless.
Every second dragged as Harry cursed the slow truck. The dull roar of the engine filled the air, a counterpoint to the pounding of Harry's heart. His eyes scanned the road ahead, searching for any sign of the vehicle that held Rose. And then, there it was—a sleek SUV with dark tinted windows and gold grill.
Without a moment's hesitation, Mick slammed the brakes as it passed, put the truck in reverse, the gears grinding in protest. The vehicle spun around with a screech of tires, the maneuvermore befitting a high-speed chase than the old truck's usual sedate pace.
Harry's grip tightened on the dashboard, his knuckles white. The SUV was pulling away, its superior speed and power no match for their battered truck. "We're going to lose them again," he said, the frustration evident in his voice.
Mick's response was terse, his focus unwavering. "We need to slow them down. Stop them."
Before Harry could protest, Mick leaned out the window, his arm steady as he took aim. The crack of the gunshot split the night, and the SUV's rear tire burst, the vehicle swerving wildly as the driver fought for control.
Harry's heart leapt into his throat at the reckless maneuver. "Are you insane?" he shouted, anger and fear battling for dominance. "You could have gotten her killed!"
Mick leaned back into the driver's seat, his expression grim. "Be mad at me later, Harry. Right now, we have to get Rose out of there. That was our one shot, and I had to take it. Now be ready for when they pull over. We’ll have a fight on our hands."
The SUV had managed to right itself, but its speed was significantly reduced, limping along on the damaged tire.
They were close now, the gap between the two vehicles shrinking with every second.
The chase was on, and Harry knew that every move they made from here on out had to count. Rose's life depended on it.
As the SUV limped to a halt, its tire completely ruined, Mick and Harry prepared for the confrontation they knew was inevitable. The night air was charged with tension, the silence before the storm. Mick was the first to exit the truck, his weapon drawn and ready, his movements calculated and deliberate. Harry followed suit, his own gun in hand, his mind racing with the possibilities of what might unfold.
“Come out of the car. Let me see your hands,” he shouted, knowing they were unlikely to comply.
Mick signaled to Harry, a silent communication honed by their shared experiences. They split up, approaching the vehicle from different angles to minimize the risk of being taken by surprise. Harry's heart pounded in his ears, the adrenaline coursing through his veins sharpening his focus.
The doors burst open and two men spilled out with guns drawn. Without hesitation, Harry and Mick, nearly in unison fired. The men crumpled to the ground and a yelp from the car was the worst kind of punctuation.
“Rose,” Harry shouted, but he could see exactly what the situation was. Another man, seemingly the last in the car shoved her out and hid himself behind her.
“I’ll blow her brains out,” he said, pushing the gun into her temple. Her eyes flashed with terror as she silently implored Harry to do something.
“Let her go,” Mick demanded. “She has nothing to do with this.”
“I have more men coming,” he hissed. “You won’t stand a chance. Get back in your shit box of a truck and stay out of my way.”
Harry was desperate to know the plan, for Mick to give him some indication of what to do next. But there was nothing. This could be a standoff that went on forever. Or at least until the other men arrived and left Harry and Mick terribly outnumbered.
“Who the hell are you guys anyway?” the man asked, tightening his grip around Rose and pressing the gun even harder against her. “I knew we were on to something. I knew Topeka was here. Your presence, security or assassins or whatever you are, tells me I’m right. She is here.”
“Was,” Mick corrected. “We flew her out. She’s got the evidence and enough cash to disappear until she’s prepared to turn her boss in. Now let Rose go, and I’ll let you live.”
“And how exactly?—”
The man’s words were cut short by the pop of gunfire and his head snapping back. Rose yelped and fell forward, Harry catching her in his arms. The man’s body was limp and thudded to the ground.
“You’re okay,” Harry reassured Rose, ushering her away from the situation toward the old truck.
Harry could feel Rose’s pulse racing as he held her wrist and supported her weight with his other arm. Her body trembling from the shock, her cheek stained with the man’s blood. Quickly, he guided her toward the truck, his mind still reeling from the abrupt turn of events.
"You're okay," he reassured her again, his voice a steady presence amidst the chaos. "You're safe now."
