32
“Show me again,” I demand to Murphy, who’s got a map laid out on the hood of the truck.
“Here.” He points to an unmarked intersection off the highway. “We’ll push the armored car toward you. All you have to do is hit it.”
“This is stupid,” Riggs grunts. “If she hits that truck going the speed you suggest, she’s going to fold like a fucking tin can. We’re not doing this.”
“We’ve been working on the truck.” Rafe clears his throat and Riggs looks up from the map like he’s ready to commit murder. “We wanted to be prepared if something like this came up. A run, something dangerous.”
“It’s reinforced,” I explain. “They all are.”
“The Subarus?” he asks and I nod. “When were you going to tell me that you were sneaking around my back doing this?”
“Roll cages could have saved his life. It only made sense to put them in. The truck is military grade. It took us months to get it in without you noticing. It’s actually pretty fucking impressive when you stop being pissy about it,” I snap and he narrows his eyes at me.
“She can hit the DEA transport and barely suffer a scratch,” Murphy backs them up.
“Are you sure?” Riggs asks me, his eyes locked on my face, watching for a shred of doubt that this might not work.
“I’ll be safe.” It’s as close to a promise as he’s going to get from me.
“Once the truck is pushed off the road, we swoop in, collect what we need for Liloa and get the fuck out of there,” Murphy explains.
“And no one kills anyone,” Cress says softly, her voice wavering. “Please.”
“These aren’t street rats, they’re high paid government officers. No killing.” Riggs confirms with a curt nod.
“Liloa promised a backup of fifteen guys for the race. That’s more than enough to keep everyone safe while this goes down. But we need to be successful, and we have an—”
“Hour.” Rafe swallows tightly, looking down at his watch.
“We can do this. We’re fucking good at it.
Jesse is going to drive point with Birdie so she has an exit strategy.
Rafe, you’re with Murphy, you don’t leave his fucking side.
We need his eyes on the roads to pull this off, communicate constantly.
If you go quiet I’m pulling it all. No questions asked.
Do you all understand?” Riggs barks, but it’s not a demand, or an order.
It’s a speech to live by. We do this together, completely or not at all.
“Yeah.” I’m the first to nod.
“Heads screwed on straight.” Jesse salutes like an idiot, his honey-blond streaks waving around his terrified face. He’s never come on a job like this before. He was good for transport, pickups, hand offs. His hands shake a little, but he’s determined to help.
“What about me?” Cress asks, fidgeting in the pockets of her cardigan.
“We need you here. If anything goes wrong—” Riggs chokes on the possibility. “We need you here.”
It’s clear she hates this; her teeth sink into her bottom lip.
“Here,” Murphy blurts, moving toward his desk and digging out a tablet that lights up as he moves back.
“I’ll wire you into my laptop so you can see what I’m doing, see what everyone is doing?
Does that help?” he asks her, hopeful that it’ll be enough, his big brown eyes full of optimism behind his glasses.
“That’s very helpful.” She nods, taking it with a shaking hand as he starts to type away to connect the two.
I look at the map one more time, committing it to memory before wandering over to double-check the truck.
I stare at myself in the mirror, inhaling once, holding it and begging my brain to get it together.
Everything is going to go as planned.
We’re smart, even with the lack of prep we can do this. But my heart is racing faster than it ever has, and I think for the first time in my fucking life, I’m scared.
“Come here.” Riggs voice breaks the moment like a sledgehammer, his fingers wrapping around my bicep as he leads me toward the stairs. We go up to his office and he shuts the door behind him. “Now cry.”
I stare at him for a second, questioning the command, but it’s like he knew what my body needed before I could even begin to guess. The tears pour from my eyes like someone turned on a faucet, and I can barely catch my breath as he steps forward and wraps his arms around me.
“The roads are dry,” he whispers into the top of my head. “We’re all focused,” he says, listing off every subconscious worry. “We know the plan, the route, the exit.”
I gasp for air and he squeezes me tighter.
The anxiety of what happened that night rushes in like a tidal wave and I’m drowning in the memories of Koa’s brash decision, Riggs's desperation to keep us safe, and the sound of the fire eating away at the metal of the car.
But my body relaxes in his arms and my breathing aligns with the rise and fall of his chest.
“I don’t say this often, Bird.” He clears his throat and sniffles, causing me to look up at him to find him watery eyed. “I’m proud of you.”
“Don’t,” I shake my head. “Don’t rattle off some speech. It’s bad luck and I know, I already know—”
Riggs chest rumbles with amusement but he doesn't let go just yet.
“Be careful. Be smart,” he says eventually, kissing the top of my head and stepping back to wipe his hands over his face.
The truck wobbles as I hit a crack in the road and readjust. Rafe and Riggs are a mile behind on the highway, and Jesse’s headlights are in my rearview mirror. Deep breaths, roads are dry, everyone knows the plan, we’re smart, quick, we can do this.
I correct my speed, steady my heart and catch my mirror again as I turn off the main road toward the intersection. If the timing is right, because Murphy is right, then the DEA truck will hit the cross point at the exact same time as me.
“DEA is rerouted.” Rafe pops over the radio at the same time as my previous thought.
“Bird, two minutes out,” Murphy warns. Of course he was right. When is he ever wrong?
I grab the helmet from the passenger seat, tugging it over my head with one hand and square my shoulders, praying for my bravery to return. Any time now.
“Okay, Birdie. Time to prove why everyone calls you the crazy one,” I mumble to myself, turning up the music until it thuds from the speakers and I shift gears to pick up my speed.
“All you have to do is T-bone a government grade vehicle with your truck that your brother fixed up with welded junk from the yard…” My voice warbles and my hands rub over the steering wheel.
I can see the dust cloud from the other truck, and laugh wildly knowing that Murphy’s calculations were exact.
This makes my confidence blossom. We can do this.
I push the truck faster, the engine growling under the pressure, but I’ve got it up to a hundred and it should be enough to make this work.
I grip the wheel tightly with both hands, stabilizing myself and the truck as Murphy’s voice rings out in a thrumming, calm drone. Five, four, three…
This is fucking insane.
Two.
It’s never going to work and I’m going to fucking die here, on the side of the highway, being known as some meth-head lunatic that tried to take on the DEA.
One.
Metal crunches. Tires squeal. The impact rattles through my bones like a jackhammer in concrete.
My teeth grind together but the harness keeps my body flush with the seat as we make vicious contact.
I force my eyes to stay open, and in the second I blink the DEA humvee is tipped across the road sliding ten feet away.
“Holy shit, I think it worked!” I scream out, clawing for the radio attached to the dash but it’s gone.
It must have gotten knocked off in the collision.
My eyes scan the mess of metal and glass.
The windshield is shattered, and as my adrenaline fades I start to feel the papercut-like gashes across my throat and arms. “Okay, out… Jesse!” I scream, fumbling with the buckles as the sound of tires sliding across gravel comes from behind me.
I panic for a moment, hoping that it’s not the other DEA vehicle in the convoy, but Riggs was taking care of them…
I think. My head is fuzzy from the impact and my vision is blurrier than it should be.
It must be from the previous injury. I blink a few times but it doesn’t clear.
My door is ripped open and a set of tan hands are pulling me from the driver’s seat.
“You good?” Jesse asks as I find my footing.
“Yeah,” I nod quickly. “Yeah!” I push him off and find my balance before reaching back into the truck to grab my gun.
We move as a unit, Jesse at my back watching the left and me on the right.
I can hear the agents grunting on the other side of the truck as Rafe appears from the opposite road in a hurry.
He roars to a stop, barely waiting for the wheels to plant before he’s out of the driver’s seat, marching toward the driver's side of the truck.
I hear his boot collide with a jaw, the crunch loud as the other agent hollers at him to stop. As we circle to the back Jesse slides out his crow bar to lever the back door open.
“Don’t move,” Rafe barks as Murphy hurries to fall in line beside me.
As we round the corner my eyes flicker around, taking in the unconscious agent and the one that Rafe holds at gun point.
Jesse pops the back open after another stressful breath and Murphy wraps to the back to help him unload the bags.
“Six!” I remind them and Jesse starts to count out loud as they drop them to the cement.
Riggs is next—his car curling around the accident with precision. He flicks the passenger door open. “We need to fucking go. The other truck is coming!” he barks. My left leg screams for relief as I limp in the direction of the bags, hauling two up on either shoulder.
“Are you hurt?” Riggs hollers.
“No!” I lie, brushing him.
“Bird!” he snarls. “Are you hurt?” The panic in his voice causes me to pause in my limped step.
“I’m fine. Get in position,” I snap at him, our eyes connecting just for a moment before I jog weakly after Jesse and Murphy. We load the cars and Jesse helps me into the passenger side of his before Rafe knocks the other agent unconscious with a sickening blow of his pistol.
“Let’s go,” Murphy calls through his window as Rafe spins their car around in line with Riggs. The three vehicles tear away from the scene, leaving nothing but carnage behind and everything we need to secure safety in the trunks of our cars.
“We’re not out of this yet, keep tight,” Riggs comes over the radio. “Split onto the nine and meet back at the garage.”