Page 143 of Scarlet Angel

Chambers click.

Crushed circles mar the windshield.

Fisher announces, “Don’t shoot. The glass is bulletproof. I’m going to back up and drive around this car.”

Up ahead, there’s a small van that’s pulled in front. Four men with guns stand in the back of it, shooting away at us.

“Clock what they’re carrying,” Fisher shouts from behind the wheel. “This baby’s fortified, but it’s not invincible. That first strike may’ve been a drone. We need cover.”

CHAPTER37

NICK

Two men with assault rifles splatter the van with a spray of bullets. The windshield won’t last forever.

“Where the fuck are we?” I shout.

Fisher slides the van into reverse, and I scramble to the front. We need a bloody strategy.

“Nick!” Scarlet cries.

“Stay back,” I yell as she steps forward. “Get her back,” I yell at Sophia.

A man carrying a military-grade assault weapon joins the others. Unlike the other blokes, he’s not wearing a balaclava, and he grins an eerie, slow grin.

We crash into something, probably a car. Fisher grinds the gears, and we lurch forward.

I study the weapon in the lunatic’s hands.

“That’s a bloody bazooka.”

A spray of bullets shoots from the side, sending the armed men to our front diving for cover.

The wheels screech as we take off.

“As fast as you can,” I say to Fisher, probably quite unnecessarily.

Scanning the surroundings, I recognize where we are.

“Let’s head to the wharf,” I say, directing the driver, on autopilot.

I point in the direction we should head. I don’t know the street names, but the area’s familiar.

“Shouldn’t they know the bounty’s been dropped?” Scarlet asks.

That’s an interesting question. Could these be some zealots who’ve ignored the updates? Perhaps hoping a kill will still be honored?

No. That text. No coincidences. This is Prophet.

She’s huddled on the floor, but she’s clutching a handgun—Atta girl.

“Did you recognize those men?” The question comes from behind me. Sophia’s got a phone to her ear.

“Negative. Could be bounty seekers, but chances are they’re hired.” I shoot my love a wink as she’s gone quite pale. “We’ll need to nab one. Find out who hired them. My bet is, they’ll lead us to this Prophet bastard.”

Up ahead, the wharf comes into view. It’s late. Warehouse workers will be off-shift. We can nab a fishing boat if we can lose the cocksuckers behind us.

“That way,” I say, pointing to a loading dock.

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