Chapter 50
cold cruelty
Cian
“You got him?” Liam asks.
“You good?”
“Good. Do it.” He slides into the passing lane, in plain sight, blocking any hope for the driver to skirt past me.
“Be smart.” My voice rises as I jab the brakes.
My nose dips, and the truck’s tail end lifts with the frozen momentum, just as the SUV does the same. He hits me with a force that will hurt in the morning.
Liam gives me a two-fingered wave as he speeds right by in pursuit of the first vehicle in the convoy.
I come to a complete stop, pull my pistol from the center console, and check my rearview and side mirrors.
Airbags block my view. Their deployment is good for whichever of my girls needed them, but sucks for me because I’m blind.
Sliding from the truck, I keep low as cars pass us, honking at the inconvenience I’ve presented them with. I want to yell, “Get the fuck over it.” Instead, I move to the passenger side rear and hope like all hell I didn’t just set myself up for a lawsuit over insurance fraud.
I yank the door open, and Renée tumbles out. She’s bleeding and ashen and, for one heartbeat, the shock freezes me.
Then I scoop her up, running her to the driver’s seat of my vehicle and strap her in.
Fluttering movement near the airbags catches my eye and I aim the gun at the front tires, first the passenger’s, then the driver’s.
I spend no more time or thought on the fucker, but floor it. My tailgate is askew, and the rear axle is fucked, but I don’t care.
I make it to an emergency room in Loveland before I dial Liam.
He never answers.
Sariah
The only warning I get is the barricade of Colorado State Police cruisers, lights and sirens deployed, and the officers milling alongside those vehicles. They’d only be so casual if they knew they had the upper hand.
And, boy, do they.
I sit back as much as I’m able with my hands behind my back and press my feet firmly into the passenger seat ahead of me. We hit the spike strip, or what I assume is the spike strip, just as we enter Fort Collins.
How fitting that this journey would start and end here.
The change in momentum is only mitigated by adrenaline.
Officers surround the car. “Step out of the car. Hands where we can see them.”
Sharpshooters are visible from the highway overpass and behind police car doors.
But it’s the cold cruelty in the eyes of the driver that truly worries me. Blood runs down his face and fills his mouth as he forms a half-grimace, half-smile and laughs. “You think you won? You think this will end? It never ends.”
He lifts the gun, brightness explodes behind my eyes, and he fires.