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She didn’t wait for his response.
Her heart was pounding, her pulse racing, her mind spinning, and she might even be breaking out in a sweat.
It was do-or-die time.
She rushed back to the driver’s side and jumped in, slamming the door shut and locking it again. After shoving the shifter into Reverse, she jammed her foot all the way to the floorboard. The tactical armored vehicle lurched backward, the cable snapped tight, and a few seconds later the door was airborne, smacking the front of the TAV and crashing to the floor.
She still had to locate Reaper, remove the door from the hook—because dragging a door down the road might be a red flag, like the blood and guts—and get the hell out of Ohio.
All in one piece.
She pulled the vehicle forward, shining its lights into the room.
What they saw was Reaper standing in the middle of an empty room with a man holding a gun to his temple.
Fuck.
She put the Terradyne in Neutral and revved the engine in warning.
Indie leaned out of the passenger window and yelled, “Let him go or you’ll be flattened like a fucking pancake. Guarding him isn’t worth your life.”
In her sister’s lap and out of sight to anyone standing outside of the vehicle, Indie gripped the Desert Eagle, while Vi rewrapped her fingers tightly around the steering wheel.
“You pull that trigger and you won’t make it out of here alive. I promise you that,” Indie warned next, then added, “And we’re going to take our time doing it.”
The guard said nothing, but also didn’t lower his weapon.
That was not a good sign.
Maybe he didn’t understand English or maybe he was contemplating his options.
Either way, Vi didn’t give a shit.
Since the TAV wasn’t going to fit through the door, Vi would have to make her own opening by ramming it through the interior wall.
She might have no choice. The man wasn’t moving. He also wasn’t letting Reaper go. It was a goddamn standoff.
One she was determined to win.
Vi shut off everything but the TAV’s running lights so the headlights weren’t blinding Reaper. When her eyes met his through the windshield, they held for a few heartbeats. Then Reaper did the slightest chin lift.
Fuck.
He was encouraging her to do whatever needed to be done.
Fine. She’d make another hole.
Without another thought, Vi switched the lights back on—including the spotlights on the vehicle’s roof—to blind the captor, smashed the accelerator, blew through the door, leaving a gaping hole, and sped toward Reaper.
At the same time, he elbowed the guard in the ribs and slammed the man’s knee with the heel of his boot, folding that leg under. He jerked his handcuffed hands upward, knocking the gun hard enough so that when it went off, the shot went wild as the weapon went flying through the air.
“Ram that fucker!” Indie yelled, way too excited for death and destruction.
Reaper jumped out of the way and dove for the loose gun as Vi plowed over the guard.
She felt a squish under the tires.
Too bad, so sad.