Page 66 of Resolution

“I love you,” I told him, thoroughly enjoying the way he smiled at me. I dropped my gaze to his lips, then leaned forward, kissing him softly. When we were suddenly wrenched apart as the car swerved without warning, I let out a gasp. Humphries instantly corrected and accelerated.

“What’s going on?” Mac asked.

“Two cars coming up fast on either side of our trail car!” SA Humphries’ raised voice made the hairs on the back of my neck stand straight up. We all immediately turned to look behind us, and I recognized the problem as two black cars came into view. Humphries was right. They were accelerating at a high rate of speed, coming up aggressively alongside the trail SUV following right behind us. Humphries floored the accelerator, throwing us back in our seats. I couldn’t see the drivers of either car but the moment their windows rolled down and gun muzzles poked out, I knew we were completely fucked.

A second later, they opened fire on the FBI vehicle from both sides, peppering it with a hail of bullets, blowing out the windows. The car lurched to the side as the windshield was sprayed with blood from the inside. The poor guys didn’t stand a chance. No time to even draw their weapons.

The ill-fated car with the agents inside cut across lanes as the attack vehicle in their path fell back. It crashed into the center median and flipped, landing on its roof as other cars already swerved, brakes screeching and crashing into each other behind us.

My ears were buzzing as my heart raced. Distantly, I heard Snow screaming into the phone, calling for backup. I knew it would take time to get anyone here. We were fucked, unless Humphries could somehow outmaneuver two smaller, faster cars.

“Where’d they come from?” I screamed. “How’d they know?”

Miguel looked at me despairingly, shaking his head. “They must’ve followed us from the Federal Building.”

I dragged my gaze away from his to Damon and Mac who sat in the row in front of us. “What do we do?”

Mac looked grim. “The only thing we can do…try and outpace them until backup arrives.” He scooted up so he could put a hand on Humphries’ shoulder as Lincoln continued to talk into the phone, rattling off our current location and the dire situation. Mac said something into Humphries ear, and I watched the man give him a vigorous nod. He said something back to Mac who squeezed his shoulder again.

“Yes, sir!”

Mac sat back. “I told him to drive as fast as he can. He’s already doing ninety. And to try and keep cars between us, whatever he does.”

“Who’s Lincoln calling?” Miguel asked.

“I’m scrambling an FBI chopper. ETA, seven minutes. Humphries is just going to have to keep well ahead of them until then,” said Lincoln tersely.

Seven minutes might just as well have been seventy minutes.

They weren’t going to make it here on time. What the fuck! Everyone probably knew the chance of a good outcome was bleak. All I could do was pray that Humphries had taken driving lessons from a NASCAR racer.

Farther back, the strobing lights of probably CHP vehicles were moving up but they were still some distance away. Humphries surprised me, the SUV must have been going well over a hundred miles an hour as he wove expertly between cars, siren, lights, and all. Sometimes I was sure the car was up on two wheels. All I could do was pray we didn’t hit a snarl in traffic that slowed us down or even stopped, allowing the killers to catch up with us. Five minutes passed as my heart nearly beat out of my chest. Breathing hard, I struggled to keep from hyperventilating, a nearly Herculean feat.

I kept one hand on my window’s grab bar and the other clutching Miguel’s hand in a punishing death grip as we swerved back and forth across the freeway. Miraculously, Humphries was able to keep at least one car between us and certain death behind us. Only Humphries kept his eyes on the road. The rest of us were twisted in our seats, looking out the back window, catching periodic glimpses of the two cars chasing us.

When the sound of a chopper coming in fast from behind us, finally penetrated my consciousness, I felt my heart leap into my throat. I looked forward, as we passed an on-ramp and blessedly, there were six black and white cop cars barreling up it, lights flashing, sirens wailing. The cavalry had arrived.

How they were planning on stopping the cars behind us, and how the FBI chopper would aid that, I still wasn’t clear on. I just knew we had help in overwhelming numbers and that the police were armed, no doubt ready, willing, and able to stand in the breach for us. I looked at Miguel as two of the units slid into the lane in front of us, while two others slid in directly behind us, forming a further barrier between the killers and us.

The two remaining units were joined by two more, taking up positions in front and in back of the two black vehicles and their occupants who’d not only murdered four FBI agents, but were also trying to kill us. The FBI chopper hovered over our car, and the revelation that they were providing the cars on the ground with all the information they needed to catch the bastards, finally sank in. As the four cop cars surrounding the murderers slowly brought the killers to a stop, I prayed for the officers inside, hoping against all hope that they wouldn’t get shot as they attempted to get the cartel hit squad to surrender.

I transferred my gaze to Miguel whose head lolled back against the headrest, now that the threat had passed. His eyes were tightly closed and all I could do was thank God that we’d quite literally escaped death by a thousand tiny projectiles. I let the fear and panic which had gripped me for nearly ten minutes bleed slowly away.

Miguel opened his eyes, looked at me, and then craned his head around to take in the scene behind us. We were now far enough away, still being escorted by the heroic LAPD, that whatever was happening back there, was no longer visible. The cop car in front of us signaled and we followed him and his companion car into the next lane and then the far right lane. We took the very first exit off the freeway and came to a stop at a light at the bottom of the off-ramp. Lincoln’s hand stole across the gap between the front and passenger seat, and I watched him squeeze the back of Humphries’ neck. The man turned to Lincoln and smiled.

“Well done, Martin. You alone saved our lives,” Lincoln praised. “The next time I want to bet on who’s going to win at Daytona, I’m entering you.”

That brought a chuckle as the man reached up and scrubbed a big hand over his face.

“Seriously, though, I’m going to see to it that you get recognized for being cool under the most dreadful of circumstances. That wassomedriving, kid.”

“Thank you, sir,” Humphries said.

“Hear, hear!” Damon said, reaching forward and thumping him on the shoulder.

“Snow’s right, Humphries. You saved all our lives,” Mac added. “Great job.”

“That goes for me and Miguel too,” I said. “We would have been dead back there if you hadn’t kept going.”

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