Page 64 of Faded Rhythm

I take a series of turns, left, right, left again, no discernible pattern, switching lanes, weaving through sleepy neighborhoods that weren’t built for speed. They’re still on our tail, and I realize it instantly.

Whoever’s back there isn’t just good. They’re trained.

Fuck.

I wonder what the odds are of Brett havingtwoex-military operatives in his employ.

It doesn’t matter. Whoever it is, I can’t lose them here in suburbia without risking civilian lives. I need options.

I veer onto a main road. Traffic’s thin, but building. The morning rush is gathering. I hit 80, weaving between cars, taking the SUV to its edge without blinking.

“Where are we going?” Sable’s voice breaks through the buzzing in my ears.

“Somewhere I can control the terrain.”

My mind runs through the layout of the area. There’s an access road about three miles out leading to a construction site. There’s uneven asphalt and overgrown brush. Perfect for cornering a tail and flipping the script.

I glance at the girls in the back. They’re quiet now. I can’t see them, but I feel their fear pulsing in the air like static.

For their sakes, I need to end this now.

I slam a hard right, cutting through a gas station, hooking back onto the outer bypass. The black sedan overshoots by half a second, but adjusts fast. An amateur would have lost sight of me.

“Shit,” I mutter.

But I have them where I want them. They think I’m running.

But I’m leading.

There it is. The access road.

I turn down and stomp on the gas pedal, passing orange barrels and concrete barriers. As soon as their lights disappear, I cut mine, pulling off the road behind a tractor.

I kill the engine.

It’s quiet. No more than five seconds pass before they zoom by.

I look back again. The girls are holding each other. Next to me, Sable’s eyes are wide, her breathing rapid.

I raise a finger. “Shhh.”

Then I step out of the SUV. I pull my piece, thumbing the safety off, then duck behind a barrel, putting myself in the perfect position to take them out when they pass by.

Headlights.

A bead of sweat runs down my temple.

Twenty seconds, and then it’s go time.

But something stops me.

Those two little girls.

And knowing what the sound of gunshots and a murder or two will do to them.

They didn’t ask for this.

And they’d never be free from this day.

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