Page 189 of Remy

“Ready, Valenti?” I ask.

“Born ready.”

“Four,” Ollie whispers as we pass another off-road, then leans into the bend. “Three.”

I hold tight to my gun, staring through the swirling dust and debris kicking up behind us. The Irish aren’t on our ass, but their headlights carry through the trees.

“Two.” Ollie straightens her shoulders, sitting tall. “One.”

“Slow right down. We want to catch them off-guard.” I lean the top half of my body out the window as she rounds the final bend, decreasing speed. “Be prepared to take off if this doesn’t work.”

“It’ll work,” Valenti vows. “These assholes are too cocky.”

“Here’s hoping.” I track the slithers of light through the trees, the acceleration of oncoming vehicles approaching fast.

Ollie slows to a crawl in the middle of the road.

“We’re almost there,” Russo announces. “Get ready.”

A heartbeat later the Irish come into view, their bright lights threatening to blind me.

I aim low and squeeze the trigger. Pop. Pop. Pop.

They hit the brakes in a grate of swirling gravel. The car careens to the left, tires spinning. Dust flying.

“I’m going in,” Valenti shouts, slamming the nose of his Audi into the back of the sedan to make our enemies spin.

Through the darkened interior I meet the eyes of the Irish passenger, his gun raising to aim at me through his open side window. He fires as the vehicle speeds toward the trees, the pop followed closely by the unmistakable sound of shattering glass as the bullet hits a taillight of the Escalade.

“Get down,” I shout.

Ollie hunches on command.

But it doesn’t matter. There’s no stopping the sedan as it rockets uncontrollably toward the trees, launching into a trunk with a deafening crack.

“Oh, God,” she whimpers.

“It’s okay.” I eye the car, watching for movement. “It’s almost over.”

The headlights died on impact, the angle of the vehicle hiding my view of the occupants. But I clearly see the passenger door as I wait for it to open.

“I’m going to check it out,” Russo says.

I unclasp my belt and disconnect the call, not wanting Ollie to overhear anything upsetting. “I need you to stay here. Turn off the lights but don’t get out.”

“Remy—”

“I’ll be back soon.” I climb from the Escalade, close the door behind me, and stalk for the sedan.

Russo is already jogging toward the mangled car as hissing steam billows from the hood while Valenti cuts the lights to his Audi, plunging us into darkness.

It takes a few blinks for my eyes to adjust to the moonlight as I approach, my Walther palmed at my side.

“They’re alive.” Russo yanks open the driver’s door on the far side of the car, his gun aimed inside. “But pretty fucked up.”

I close in, striding from the gravel road onto the dense wild grass.

Russo meets me at the trunk, yanking off his leather gloves. “Here. Have these. I assume you want the honors.”

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