Chapter 3 #2
He snorted. “Something tells me we aren’t going to be that lucky for the rest of the trip.”
“Not if you keep jinxing it. Sheesh, Nick, read the room.”
She stopped next to the vehicle, used a wedge to open the doors, then helped him into the passenger seat. “You should really go in the back, elevate that leg, but I know you’d spend the entire drive bitching about it, so…”
“I can stay awake for another five minutes.”
“I’d say that’s ambitious, at best, but you are a stubborn son of a bitch. Just, try not to bleed all over the seat.”
“Too la—”
A distant rhythmic thump cut him off, the low timber lingering in the clearing until another round sounded. Heavy. Carrying a punch that hit him straight in the heart. What could have been thunder except he’d recognize the pop of automatic gunfire anywhere.
“Shit, that’s gotta be Sloane.”
Tierney cursed, yanked the wires down from beneath the steering column, got a spark jumping between them. The engine roared to life, chugging out a puff of blue smoke as she revved the motor before slipping back down to idle.
She shoved it into gear, looked over at him. “You might want to buckle up. If this road’s like the others, it’s gonna be rough.”
The tires spun a couple times as she punched the gas, spitting out rocks and dirt before the truck surged forward, eating up the track. The scenery rushed past, roiling Nick’s stomach, testing his claim that he’d last until they reached Sloane.
Tierney shifted her gaze to him, muttered something about him looking like death, then urged the truck faster. The chassis shuddered around a blind corner, everything sliding right as they hit a stretch of washboard, plowed through it.
Pain bloomed hot and sharp in his thigh, the previous numbness lost to the bouncing shocks, the way the vehicle skipped across a series of potholes, rattling the interior, sending something in the back skittering across the floorboards.
He tried to brace against the impact as she slalomed up a series of switchbacks, skidding around bends, then bucking through more ruts.
They hit the top of a hill, careened down the other side, Tierney driving as if she saw the road five seconds into the future — knew what line gave her the fastest route without slamming into a tree.
Nick clenched his jaw, every jolt a fresh spike of agony. Not that he’d ask her to slowdown. Not with Sloane’s life in the balance.
They burst onto the paved two lane like a missile, tires screeching, backend fishtailing across the asphalt as Tierney spun the Chevy, left two long skid marks along the blacktop.
She hit the gas, really picked up speed, the wheels humming as the engine whined, the scenery nothing but a blur out the side windows.
She rounded the next corner, the headlights mapping out the scene.
What looked like a government-issue sedan idling sideways in front of a logging truck, glass cracked, bullet holes stitched across the side.
A group of armed mercs closed in on the truck in a classic L formation, rifles up at their shoulders, body armor layered over black camo.
Muzzle flashes lit up the shadows, a steady stream of casings clicking across the road.
A couple SUVs blocked this side of the two lane, doors yawned open, one hatch raised high.
Tierney didn’t even slow, just slammed her foot on the gas, clipped the back bumper of the first Suburban — sent it into an uncontrolled spin into the ditch.
Nick leaned out, fired off a few rounds, kept anyone behind them from getting too ballsy as Tierney swerved around the next vehicle.
She sheared one of the rear doors clean off the hinges before quickly closing in on the third SUV.
The men scattered, diving into the parallel ditches as she kissed the last Suburban, physically shoved the entire chassis sideways.
A series of angry thumps hit the side of the pickup as Tierney slid off the shoulder and onto the grass.
She threaded it through a narrow space between the trailer and a large pine, exchanging paint and most of Nick’s side mirror.
The pieces flew backwards, bouncing along the grass as she yanked the handbrake, whipped the Silverado into a controlled slide.
The vehicle shuddered to a halt, brakes burning, more smoke pouring off the tires. Through the window, Sloane dropped into a crouch, pistol up, sights trained on the door as she waited, everything locked in place.
Tierney didn’t give the woman a second glance, just shoved her door open, stepped out. “You coming, or are you waiting until after these assholes chew through another few mags?”
Sloane inhaled, eyes narrowed, mouth gaped open as she rose, booked it over to the truck. “Tierney?”
“It’s been a while. Get in. Nick’s all yours, though, if he dies on my watch, I’m going to pull over and kill him, myself.”
Sloane tossed her bag in the back, then hopped in, her gaze clashing with Nick’s as he dropped a merc trying to flank them. She frowned, already rummaging through her kit. “Christ, you look even worse than in Prague.”
He smiled, her voice easing the tension, the pain, everything washing into gray. “I survived that one.”
“Barely.”
Tierney slammed the truck into drive, screeched out amidst a volley of gunfire. “It won’t take them long to move that truck — follow.”
Sloane glanced out the window. “Any idea where we’re headed? If this curls back onto the main thoroughfare?”
“It does…” Tierney glanced at Nick’s leg, then over to Sloane. “Just not quick enough.”
Sloane tipped Nick’s chair back, practically laid on top of him to access his thigh. “Bodie called Raven’s Watch. They should be headed our way. If we can get a call out…”
“They can give us a lift.” Tierney smiled, grabbed her cell. “Hold on, Nick. Looks like this ride isn’t over yet.”