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The Buick hits me again, and I have to drop my mic to focus on the wheel. It’s difficult to see past the glare of the headlights and the fact that I’m keeping my head ducked as much as possible, but it looks like someone’s leaning out the passenger window of the first car.
Fuck-
Bullets spray the bumper of the cruiser, puncturing fiberglass and my rear windshield.
If they shoot out my tires, we’re dead.
The radio crackles. “Confirm, officer. Pursuing two vehicles?”
I snatch the mic again. “Two vehicles in pursuit ofme! Four known suspects, suspects armed, shots fired!”
I have to drop the mic to switch lanes so I don’t bulldoze a minivan ahead of me. Behind me, my pursuers miss the minivan by inches.
Between ducking bullets and avoiding a PIT maneuver, I’m also fighting to lead this chase somewhere productive. Namely, the nearest police station, which is still several blocks away. Thank god these streets are three lanes wide and relatively empty. I’ve got room to switch lanes, so long as my pursuers allow. I flip on my lights and sirens, making myself as loud and obnoxious as possible, hoping that will encourage anyone in my way to get the fuck out of it.
Unfortunately, the light ahead of me is red, and I can’t stop. I pray to god people are hearing my sirens come and are hesitating to drive through the intersection, but I won’t know if I’m clear until I’m clear. The last thing I want to do is cause a pile up.
The other last thing I want to do is slow down and let these armed street thugs put a thousand holes in my body, Raleigh’s, and my dogs’.
I blow the light, flying through the intersection at almost ninety miles an hour with my two pursuers barrelling behind me. The only poor car trying to cross slams on its brakes and swerves, but thankfully, it doesn’t look like it’s been hit.
Ahead of me, coming out of a side street, a police car’s lights snap on like fireworks in the sky. I shoot past him, and he screams out onto the main road behind my two tails.
The first car to start this merry chase instantly breaks off down the next side street. Maybe he’s hoping to distract the cop, or maybe he just doesn’t want to get caught now that there’s backup. Either way, I hope my colleague caught the license plate, because he stays on the Buick’s bumper and lets the other car go.
Ahead of me, another cop car is coming in our direction, lights on but no sirens. When they spot me, their sirens start screaming, and they pull a U-Turn so sharp I smell the burn of rubber as I shoot past them.
Now I’ve got one tail, and the Buick has two. Its passenger stops shooting, and even though I can’t see into the windshield through the blinding headlights, I can feel the gears turning in its driver’s mind. To continue pursuing me, or to give up and focus on losing its own pursuers?
Is Silver himself driving that car, or is he the one firing the gun? Which will he choose, when he’s so close to getting his revenge on me?
The Buick turns sharply, pulling a shocking U-Turn that both my colleagues have to swerve to avoid. It shoots back down the street driving opposite of traffic, narrowly misses an oncoming truck, and bounces over the median. My backups pull a safer U-Turn at the next light and take off in pursuit.
Instinctively, I almost follow. My heart is pounding. My mind is blissfully free of doubt. Training and experience are driving me now.
As dangerous as the last several minutes have been, I haven’t felt so alive in a long, long time.
Then I hear Raleigh’s voice, tiny and terrified from the passenger seat.
“D-Did you lose them?”
She’s still folded forward, her arms over her head. I reach for her with my free hand, my fingers tingling, and grip the back of her neck.
“They’re gone,” I pant, and realize for the first time that I’m out of breath. “Are you hurt?”
There’s glass everywhere from my shattered windows, but I don’t see any blood on her. I can feel her trembling again under my palm, and fury surges in my chest. For the second time, I have to fight the instinct to join the pursuit, just to run down Silver myself and make him pay.
I have a civilian and two dogs in my car. They have to be my priority.
“Are you hurt?!” I demand, hoping to god nothing happened to her.
“I d-d-don’t think so,” Raleigh grits out. She presses her forehead into her knees, and I can feel her back rise and fall as she forces herself to breathe more steadily.
I check my rearview again. No vehicles following, but I do see my dogs. Alive and well, but panting with anxiety. I want more than anything to pull over for all of them so they can take a second to breathe, but I don’t dare. I have to find us a secure place first, and since I can’t go to the station with Raleigh and I can’t go home if there’s still a chance I’m being followed, that leaves one last place.
The only house in the world I’ve ever truly felt safe.
CHAPTER 21
