Page 34 of Nest of Thieves
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” I press all the buttons on the garage openers as my heart threatens to burst out of my chest. The metal gate bounces a little but begins to roll back.
Vette and Lark jump into the Rover as Mac starts pulling out of the parking spot.
I flick my gaze to the gate. Two more inches. That’s all I need. I let off the brake and roll forward, checking the street. No other cars in sight. I hate to leave the one I drove out here behind, but as soon as I lose the assholes, I’ll circle back.
The gate clears the length of my car, and I slam on the gas, wrenching the wheel to the left. The tires squeal. My jaw is clenched so tight I might have to pay a visit to a dentist after this.
Cracked molars are a bitch.
Mac rides my ass in his much larger SUV. I glare at him in the rearview for two seconds before focusing on driving. I’m going much too fast to deal out death stares. I lead them through various industrial streets, taking sharp turns to try and roll the Rover. Mac is too skilled to wreck, though.
“Stupid, gorgeous JACKASS.” I smack my hand on the wheel and punch the gas on a straightaway. The gun slides back in the passenger seat. It’s a miracle it’s still on the seat with the way I’ve been driving, but an idea starts to form.
Quickly rolling the window down, I check the next intersection before turning down a deserted road. I grab the gun and set it in my lap, slowing down so I can pull the e-brake without flipping my car. I brake-check Mac, and he slows down enough for me to pull off the maneuver. Grabbing the emergency brake next to the gear shift, I wrench it up and yank the wheel to the left. The Nissan whips to the side, tires screaming and burning. Mac wrenches the SUV to the side and slams on his brakes to avoid colliding with me. I point the gun out my window and fire off two shots at the tires on their Rover.
Vette jumps out of the stopped SUV and races toward me. I bring the gun in and drop the e-brake and peel out as he reaches the car. The screeching tires drown out whatever he shouts, and I cackle, glancing over my shoulder as I make my getaway.
Suckers.
I turn around and widen my eyes as fear strikes the center of my chest. “Oh, shit.”
A solid force slams into the passenger side of the little GT-R and the car flips over. My head slams into the side window and then there’s nothing.
eleven
MAC
I’ve never felt so much fear in my life, but as Jay’s little car flips over with Jo inside, my heart is in my throat. I can’t breathe for a full second. Gripping the steering wheel so tight I could rip it clean off the dash, I watch as the tiny vehicle rocks a little, the tires still spinning from how fast she had been going. The passenger side is smashed to shit. If anyone had been sitting there, they’d be dead. Vette takes off on foot.
“Hey.” Lark nudges me with his elbow. “You okay?”
“That was insane.” I slide my gaze to meet his. “She’s wild.”
She shot out the front tires of the Rover. She chained us all up.
The bulge in my pants while she frisked me couldn’t have come at a more inconvenient time. My erection is totally gone now, though. My heart starts to beat faster when I see Vette squat down in front of the driver’s side window and wince.
Lark and I grab for our door handles at the same time, sprinting down the road together to catalog the damage. The driver of the tow truck is on the phone. His giant truck barely has a scratch. He eyes the Nissan as he’s speaking. Before he can rattle off the address, I snatch the phone from his hand and smash it against the pavement.
“What the hell, man? She needs an ambulance.”
I narrow my eyes and rush him. “You don’t know what she needs. Get in your truck and leave.”
He stumbles back to avoid me crashing into him. “She’s hurt.”
“Her pack is here now, and if you paid attention to where you were, you would know Damien wouldn’t take kindly to you questioning his pack members.”
We’re technically not part of Damien’s pack. Lark, Vette, and I are all that makes up Pack Nunez. We’re also part of the Atlantic City Knights. There are several packs in the gang, but as part of the gang, we’re the equivalent to pack. I don’t like to throw around the boss’s name, but sometimes the situation calls for it. The guys and I have made a reputation for ourselves, but everyone in Atlantic City knows who Damien is and they know not to get into his business.
“I’m leaving, okay? I’m gone.” The guy grapples for his door handle.
To make sure he knows I’m serious, I pull out my switchblade and hold it at my side. I check for anyone else I need to run off. We’re lucky no one is here. No witnesses to dispose of. Jay’s car is wrecked. He’s going to be pissed.
Speaking of. I turn to the tow truck driver. “I’m going to need your help.”
“Anything you need.”
“Help me get that back to my shop.” I point to the upturned GT-R with my knife.
