Page 114 of Cruel Love

I throw the gear into reverse to get off the curb as a man takes aim at my face outside my window. Maybe I should have kept that M16.

Before he can fire a shot, his eye explodes with a burst of red and he drops to his knees.

Something slams onto the roof above my head and a body quickly rolls down the car’s nose.

Fox swiftly plants his feet on the ground. He stands up with his sniper rifle by his side.

I shake my head. “Nice shot,” I say, taking a breath.

He rushes over and hops into the passenger’s side. “Take a left,” he says. “They’re heading toward the stadium.”

I nod and hit the gas, happy to have him by my side in this. I figured he’d go into the club for Gio and keep his promise to Luka. Just gives me another reason to trust my old drinking buddy.

And another reason to not trust the Russian mob but I’ll cross that bridge when I get there.

I keep my eyes open for the van as I speed toward the stadium. Buildings pass us in a blur, screams echo behind us. But all I hear is Lucy. The warmth of her touch. The whisper of her voice. Nothing else matters but getting her back.

“There.” Fox points to the right, spotting the van.

I turn the next corner, barely letting up off the gas. The car jerks from the momentum and Fox lays a tight arm on the dashboard to try and sit still without his seatbelt.

The van veers off the busy street into an alleyway. I stay on them, keeping our speed up until we catch up within a block of them on a dark, almost empty, street.

“Shoot out the windows,” I bark at Fox.

He tilts his head. “I could hit Lucy,” he says.

“The tires, then.”

“That could roll the van.”

I grit my teeth. “Do it carefully.”

Fox takes his rifle and shifts upward to hang out the window of the car, locking his boot beneath the seat to hold himself steady. He raises the rifle and braces it against his solid shoulder while he stares through the scope.

I grip the wheel, trying to keep the car straight while he takes aim. “Shoot!” I say.

“Hold on...”

I wait for a few more seconds, each drum of my pulse pumping battery acid through my head. “Fox, shoot!”

“Almost...”

“What are you waiting for?!”

He pulls the trigger, firing a single bullet into the left front tire. The tire wobbles off its bearing and the van tilts. The driver over-corrects toward the curb and crashes into a line of trees by the side of the road.

Fox slides back in as I start hitting the brake. “Carefully,” he repeats, gesturing forward.

I stop the car beside the van and throw my door open. “Yeah, yeah...”

The side door on the van slides open before I can stand up, revealing one of the men who carried Lucy out of the club. He holds up a pistol at me, but a bullet pierces his forehead, dropping him to the ground.

I look over to see Fox leaning out of his window again, rifle raised and smoking.

“Now you’re just showing off,” I say.

Fox hops out. “Check the driver.”

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