Chapter 8 - The Tail|
My heart began hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. I reached down, gently pressing Sophie farther into the footwell of the backseat, covering her body with my own frame.
“Is it Moretti’s men?” I whispered, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to remain calm.
“Could be,” Daniel replied, his eyes fixed on the rearview mirror. “Or could be Isabella’s brother’s crew. Either way, they aren't supposed to know about this route.”
The gray sedan suddenly accelerated, its high beams flashing blinding white light through our rear window.
Screech!
The sedan surged forward, slamming into our rear bumper with deafening force.
Sophie woke up with a sharp gasp, her small hands clutching my sweater in terror. I held her tightly, signing with one hand against her shoulder: Safe. Daddy's men are here. Stay down.
“Hold on!” Daniel yelled, slamming his foot on the accelerator.
The heavy armored V8 engine roared to life, propelling the heavy SUV forward through the dark, pine-lined highway.
The gray sedan matched our speed, pulling up alongside our passenger door. The tinted window of the sedan rolled down, revealing a masked man holding a heavy tactical shotgun.
BANG!
A blast echoed through the night air, the heavy iron pellets shattering against our reinforced, bulletproof glass, leaving a spiderweb of cracks across the pane but failing to penetrate.
“Return fire!” Daniel ordered the guard in the passenger seat.
The guard rolled down his window two inches, poking the barrel of a suppressed assault rifle through the slot, unleashing a short, controlled burst of gunfire—Phft-phft-phft!
The gray sedan’s front tire exploded in a cloud of rubber and sparks. The driver lost control, the car veering wildly across the wet asphalt before flipping three times into the ditch, exploding into a ball of orange flame against a cluster of pine trees.
Silence returned to the highway, save for the heavy engine roar of our SUV as we sped away into the northern darkness.
May you like
I sat back against the leather seat, panting for air, holding the sobbing nine-year-old girl against my chest.
Daniel looked back at me through the mirror, his face grim. “They had a GPS tracker on our vehicle, Miss Brooks. Someone inside the estate leaked our departure.”
