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Unlocking the car, I throw her door open, blocking her from view as she climbs in. It’s not until she’s completely inside and buckled that I close the door and head to the driver’s seat.
“Keep your head down, okay?” I tell her, backing up out of our spot quickly and pulling out onto the street.
I speed down the strip of road, not bothering to abide by traffic laws. There aren’t that many people out right now. Enough to be mildly stressful but not enough to get caught in traffic.
“Who were those people?” she asks, and I grind my molars, just trying to get out of the city.
“Jeffrey sent them. They were mercenaries. Killers for hire. He must have put a price on your head.”
“Why didn’t that man just kill me then when he had a chance?” Sydney’s head whips around as she looks out all sides of the car, looking for anyone following us.
“Because some men like to play with their victims, Syd. These people aren’t good.” I’m getting mildly irritated at her questions and have to remind myself that she hasn’t been around this for a very long time. I know that she was subjected to a lot of horrible things, but I’m not sure her parents brought her around mercenaries or talked about the hits in front of her.
She continues staring out the back window, and I check the rearview mirror, watching as a giant black hummer revs its engine behind us. It taps the back of my car, surging us forward. Sydney whips around, grabbing her chest.
When the truck does it once more, I switch into gear, taking a wide left turn, dodging oncoming traffic. Sydney grabs the safety handle above her, her other hand on the dash to stabilize herself.
For a moment, I think that we got rid of them, but it doesn’t last long as another truck pops up. There’s one more behind it, and I’m hoping and praying it’s just the first one.
A shot rings out, ricocheting off of the back window.
Usually, this wouldn’t stress me out so much. But the stakes are high, and Sydney is precious cargo in more ways than one.
I hand her my gun, making sure hers is still in her lap. “I need you to start shooting. Aim for their tires.”
“What?” she asks, her jaw on the floor.
“Sydney, please, I need you to do this for me, okay? You either need to shoot at them, or you need to drive. Which one would you rather do?”
Gripping the gun in her hand, she takes her seatbelt off, instead wrapping it around her arm to steady her as she peeks out the back.
She shoots twice, the bullets flying ten feet to the right of the trucks. I look back, making sure she didn’t hit anyone before pulling the back of her shirt back into the car. She looks at me, surprised.
“You’re driving,” I tell her, grabbing both of the guns from her lap.
“I was going to get it!” she grunts in frustration but ultimately doesn’t argue anymore.
I look behind us, planning the switch accordingly. “In a couple seconds, we’re going to turn this corner and take an immediate right,” I tell her, looking ahead of us on the navigation system. “It’s only going to give us a couple of seconds, so we’re not stopping. You need to slip your foot in under mine as we trade spots, do you hear me? It looks like that road is straight, though, so it should be pretty easy.”
She only nods, looking like a deer in the headlights.
“Are you sure you understand what I just said?” I ask, keeping my cool.
Her eyes meet mine, sparkling with nerves. She nods once, placing the guns on the dash.
I turn the wheel sharply, drifting around the turn and narrowly avoiding two cars hitting me. I immediately take the right, lifting myself off the seat as I keep my foot on the pedal.
Sydney slides over the center consul, shoving her foot under mine to take over as she grabs the wheel from me. I fall into the passenger seat, reminding myself to never do that ever again. I’m way too tall to fold up like that.
Grabbing the guns from the other side of the dash where they slid while we turned, lean out the window, aiming to shoot out their tires.
I can see the bullets bouncing off the rubber.
“Fuck!” I yell, slamming myself back into the seat.
Sydney swerves in front of a car at an intersection, accelerating down the street, a look of pure determination on her face.
“You’re not actually that bad at this,” I tell her, impressed.
