Page 107 of Nest of Thieves
“What kind of problem?”
“Two cars. I can’t see the drivers.”
“What street are you on?”
I read the street sign. “Georgia.”
“I’ll be there soon. Don’t get out of the car.”
“Wasn’t planning on it.” I disconnect and toss the phone in the passenger seat, gunning it when the light turns green. The basic engine is no match for the cars. It takes all of three seconds for them to bear down on me. The one on my left pulls around in front and slams on his brakes. I yank the wheel to the side and slow down, scraping the bumper across the back of that car.
“Fucker,” I mutter, pressing down on the gas.
Both cars speed after me, and I pull a turn that would qualify me for an official role inThe Fast and the Furious. The assholes behind me follow with ease; their back ends swing out and their tires screech across the road.
My heart hammers in my chest.
They move to either side of me. Thinking on my feet, I slam on my brakes right as we pass an intersection. Both cars zoom down the road, and I turn, racing down the new street.
I can’t outrun them in this car.
I could park and wait them out, but if they spot me, I’ll be a sitting duck. I have to keep driving, wait for Mac to show up with the guys. The yellow car cuts in front of me at the next intersection, slamming on his brakes and drifting to the side.
Motherfuckers can drive.
Gripping the gun in my lap, I roll down the window and point the gun at the tires. I shoot the two on the passenger side. The guy in the car smacks his steering wheel, but I don’t stick around to exchange insurance. Flicking the safety on the gun and peeling out, I continue on the same road.
A loud pop fills the air, and my windshield shatters.
“Dammit.” I turn at the next road, glancing over my shoulder. The yellow car is still coming, despite the trail of sparks coming from the rims. Two pairs of headlights wait for me at the end of the long straightaway.
There’s another one of these assholes?
I chew on my cheek and glance around. There are no more turns.
Fuck.
Fuck.
FUCK. I’ll have to try to outrun them. I clench the gun between my legs and floor it. The cars are barely far enough apart for me to fit, but I head straight for the gap, anyway. It’s my best shot without fucking up the axle on my car. Body damage will ruin this car for chopping, but there’s no other way around it.
Screaming, I grip the wheel as hard as I can and hit the gap. Both sides of my car scrape against the other vehicles, sparking and groaning in protest, but I push through the space and shoot down the road. I pick up a good bit of distance in the time it takes them to turn around. My body is trembling with rage when they catch up to me again. One car cuts around to my side, and the other slams into the back bumper. The car on my side swerves and hits me hard, sending my car shooting into the curb.
Time slows and my heart slams against my ribcage. Thump. The car flips. Thump. It flies. Thump. One, two, three seconds. Thump. The gun hits the roof. Thump. The car smashes to the ground, glass shattering and raining over me. Thump. The scent of gasoline fills the air. Thump. The car rocks and skids to a stop.
Blood trickles down my face.
“Get the bitch!” a man shouts.
Thump.
With shaking hands, I undo my seatbelt and drop to the roof. I turn and grab my phone and gun, dragging myself out of the car. A jagged piece of glass cuts into my hip, and I whimper, holding back a scream. These fuckers don’t deserve to hear my pain.
“Damn, bitch. You don’t quit, do you?” a gruff voice asks as my legs clear the window. Before I can crawl or stand, a boot comes down on my back and presses me into glass on the sidewalk. The shards slice into my flesh, and my vision wavers, the sharp pain overpowering the wound on my hip. “Stay down before I put you down.” He gropes my ass.
“Fuck you,” I say through gritted teeth, pointing the gun in his general direction and firing. The recoil at the awkward angle wrenches my shoulder, but I suffer through the pain, laughing when the guy screams and his boot leaves my back. I shove to my feet, whirling around and shooting the guy in the chest without a second thought.
“You’re going to regret that.” The butt of a gun crashes into the side of my head, and I drop to the ground again, barely registering one of the other men coming to stand over me. My heart slams against my ribcage, and acrid smoke chokes the air from my lungs.
