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“How did he know we were coming?”
I barely registered what Grey had asked as he cranked the wheel, jarring to a stop only long enough for a cursing, out of breath Rook to clamber back into the back seat as we sped off after the single tail light curving up the blacktop ahead.
“Keep them here,” I hollered out the window to Diesel, gaze cutting to a genuinely stunned-looking Maverick. “And call back the others.”
Diesel nodded through another hard cough from the smoke bomb and whipped my head around, taking out my gun and checking the clip before pushing myself half out the passenger side window, into the whipping wind.
“We’re going to lose him!” Rook roared and Grey punched it, propelling us like a speeding bullet down the road after Drake.
“Watch out!” I called and Grey barely managed to skate around a merging SUV, nearly jostling me out the fucking window.
Ahead, Drake’s taillight grew smaller. Further.
No.
“Grey!”
I fought the wind, firing, but the shot went wide and still his fucking taillight grew smaller until it vanished around a corner.
“Hold on!”
I threw myself back into the seat before he pulled the e-brake, skidding us to the side before speeding off again, down the narrow alley between two buildings.
The side mirrors sparked, scraping against weathered brick as the Rover ran over empty bottles and cardboard boxes, smashing trash cans out of the way.
The instant we were clear of the alley, both Rook and I leaned out our windows, searching.
“There!”
The motorcycle dipped to the left off the end of Main Street, merging onto the southbound highway. Grey followed, swerving around two cars in the slow lane to slide all the way to the fast lane, pushing the Rover to its limits. Honking sounded all around, but he ignored everything except the Rover and the road and the bob and weave of Drake’s tail lights ahead.
The unparalleled focus in his eye told me he wouldn’t be letting Drake go. Not while this car was still moving and he was still behind the wheel.
“Get around this van,” I shouted over the roar of the wind rushing into the cabin, pushing back out the window, taking aim.
The business end of my Colt traced the erratic driving pattern of Drake ahead between two other cars.
Fuck. If I fired I’d risk hitting one of them instead of my intended target.
Rook’s gun discharged two shots, ringing in my ears. One hit the rear tire of the hatchback to the right, sending it swerving off the highway, spinning into the ditch, toppling onto its side. The other missed Drake, but the gunfire was enough to scare the other car off the road, leaving him with no cover for at least another couple of miles.
I clenched my teeth, ignoring the smoking wreckage behind us to focus my attention ahead.
I fired. Once. Twice. Drake jerked, the motorcycle swerving madly before he managed to right it.
Rook fired, but his shot went wide, pinging off the metal center meridian in a shower of sparks.
“Keep it fucking steady,” Rook bellowed, and Grey, heedless of the lines on the highway, drove straight up the middle, laying on the horn to keep the cars attempting to merge onto the highway from getting in our way.
“Now,” he shouted. “Do it.”
Rook fired again and this time he would’ve had the fucker had he not swerved out of the way at the last second, using a break in the meridian to put himself on the other side of the highway, driving against oncoming traffic.
He bent low over the bike, flattening himself with his elbows wide as he steered through the speeding, honking vehicles.
“He’s going to get away,” Rook hissed, watching like a fucking bobblehead, trying to keep his sights set on Drake as Grey continued driving.
“No he’s not.”
