Page 47 of Fanatic

“Fuckin’ Willow is in the middle of a shootout! That shit’s all over the news!”

For a few seconds, it didn’t sink in. “What did you say? Willow’s gone to the office to fetch some files.”

“Looks like Willow drove into something, and now she’s in a gunfight!” Shotgun yelled as his ass hit the bike, and he roared out.

We began running. Chance’s mobile began ringing as mine did. Chance answered as he ran, but I didn’t. I’d lay money that was Axel.

“I’m fuckin’ riding, cousin, and I’ve no clue how Willow got herself into a firefight! Get off the damn phone!” Chance yelled.

I hit my bike before him and was out of the gates, which Rascal had opened. Chance’s bike roared behind me, and as soon as I hit the road, I opened my throttle. On this fucker, nobody could catch me. Except I didn’t know which route to take. I slowed, and Chance overtook me and flipped me the finger as I got on his tailpipe.

Fuck, Willow, hold on, we’re coming!

Willow

Just over half an hour into my journey to the new offices, I was on a straight stretch of the I-90 when I saw something that caused alarm.

An armoured cash-in-transport van had been forced off the road and lay on its side, and men were trying to break into it. Slamming on the brakes, I skidded to a stop, yanked my phone out, and dialled Markin.

“It’s Ware. I’m watching an armed robbery in progress. Boss, I’m between Tilford and Piedmont on the I-90. I need backup,” I announced before Markin could say a word.

“Back-up’s coming!” Markin replied as he yelled for agents.

I cut the call, pulled my gun from the glove box, and grabbed extra clips. The scene outside was deteriorating, and violence was about to break out. Civilians had stopped and were being targeted. Quickly, I drove my SUV across onto the other side and skidded to a halt sideways.

I hit the emergency lights, identifying myself as law enforcement, and climbed out of the passenger side.

“This is ASAC Ware of the FBI. Put your weapons down and your hands up!” I yelled. There was an injured guy in the front of the van, blood streaming from his head, and he was unconscious. The second guard had to be in the rear.

“Fuck you, bitch,” a man screeched and opened fire.

I crouched behind the front of my car. Damn, I’d had this fucker four years and was partial to it. Bullets hit my SUV, and I cursed furiously.

A guy ran for their escape car, and I took aim and fired. He collapsed, yelling with a leg shot. The asshole rolled away, and I ducked as bullets flew back at me.

“Get the fucking car!” a second man yelled.

“I repeat, I’m ASAC Ware of the FBI. You have been called in, and police helicopter has been scrambled. You’ve got nowhere to go. Lay your weapons down!” I shouted.

“Back up, bitch,” a third guy shouted.

An engine started, and I guessed someone was making a run for it. Shit!

I knew by the angle of my SUV that at least one of my tyres was blown out. I dropped to the ground and searched for their vehicle. Seeing it, I fired shots into their wheels, taking out the front two and then aiming slightly higher, I hit their radiator. That was now dead in the road, and liquid gushed from it.

A hail of bullets hit my car, and I cursed. This was now a damn write-off. That made me really pissed. There was a break in firing, and I returned fire. A scrape made me turn, and I hit the ground as a tyre iron smashed into where I’d been hiding. One of the men had crept behind me while I was distracted.

I landed hard and fired instantly. The tyre iron had been raised and was coming down as my bullets took my attacker in the chest. He staggered backwards, and I leapt up and kicked him over. Grabbing cuffs from the glove box, I flung him onto his front and cuffed him. I didn’t think he’d be much of a danger, but I wasn’t risking it.

Did that make three or four men? Two were wounded. I’d seen a third, but was there a fourth?

“Tony!” one yelled.

“Shut up, fucking idiot. No names!”

“I can see Tony. Bitch shot him!”

“Shut up!”

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