Page 140 of Dominance

“Or it’s Dom’s guys. Maybe he sent someone to follow you?” She’s blinking, breathing, regaining her composure.

The first bullets wiz past the car as I slow to take a tight corner.

“Or not,” I snap, throwing the car into gear. “Don’t think he’d want you dead with his grandchild on board.

“Either way, maybe we should lose them?”

“That…” I spin the wheel, clenching as the G’s press me into my seat, “is a great idea, my love!”

“Smart-ass,” Gloria grunts, clutching the handle.

Taking another hard right, I double back, keeping our trajectory aimed into the middle of the industrial zone. Less traffic. Less chances of collateral or cops.

Luring the first car back onto our trail only requires circling around, squealing my tires behind him and peeling off in the opposite direction. He’s on us in a flash, gaining fast enough to tap my rear bumper.

“Tailgatingtesta di cazzo!” I swerve, pretending to lose a bit of control as he taps us again. “Here’s a gate for ya!”

I take the left at an angle, hoping our car is blocking his vision enough to mask the low, iron fence running along an old factory lot, missing the gate posts of the entryway by a fraction of an inch and gunning it alongside the fence. A satisfying smash explodes behind us, followed by screeching metal.

“One down!” Gloria whoops, ducking a second later as a gunshot pops to our left.

The other two cars cross out in front of me, trying to X me out.

“Brace!” I yell, right before I stomp the gas, zipping right in between the cars before they can cross again, way too close for comfort.

The result is perfection.

Screaming brakes echo through the night as the rear car clips the back of the leader, spinning him out, sending the backup car careening into the median divider. In my rear view, I catch the tumble, the front wheel jumping, catching the rail guard and flipping the car into a sparking pinwheel.

No sooner does the car come to rest, smoke obscuring my view, than the lead car roars through the lamplit haze, arms out the windows, guns blazing. A pitter patter of bullets on asphalt precedes the ping-ping of two rounds hitting the Beamer, sending my already pounding pulse into a rib thumping rhythm.

“Fuck. We need cover!” I growl, wishing for the life of me that Ciro or Ero were with us. Either one of them could put the driver down with a single shot.

“Give me your gun.” Gloria forces out, reaching out one shaking hand.

“Not that I don’t trust you, but…”

“You either do at this point or you don’t,” she giggles a little hysterically, taking a deep breath.

“Aim for the tires,” I mutter through clenched teeth, passing her my Glock.

Gloria rolls down her window, pausing and closing her eyes for a second. On her next exhale she flicks the safety, ratcheting back the slide and cupping her main hand.

In one fluid motion she twists, ducking out the window, firing off three rounds before dropping back inside. The response is instantaneous, rounds whirring by us, right where her head was.

Another breath and she opens the door, leaning low and firing with one hand.

“Corner!” I shout, and she’s back in, catching her breath. “Where the fuck did you learn to shoot like that?”

“The one and only thing Claude ever did was teach me how to defend myself against attackers and bullies. Took me shooting for two years before my mom found out and shut it down.”

“Color me impressed. You think you can make a trick shot if I give you an opening?”

“I’m game!” Her voice is shaky but determined.

Normally I would do this with Ciro, pointing him at the other guys, let him take the heat too. But I won’t compromise Gloria’s side of the car.

Veering to the left side of the road, I kick my door open at just the right time, clipping a streetlamp and flinching away as the door rips off, clattering behind us and making our pursuers swerve dangerously.

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