Page 37 of Brick's Retribution

It's insane enough to work. Maybe.

We gather our essentials in silence—weapons, my laptop, his medical kit.

Everything else gets left behind.

Brick cracks the door open, scanning the parking lot. "Three o'clock," he murmurs. "Right side of the lot. That's our target."

I see it—Brick's Harley, right where we left it when we checked into the motel.

Our bags are still secured to it, and more importantly, it's our fastest way out of here.

"The bike," I say, pointing toward it.

"Already on it," he replies, and I can see the relief in his expression.

The sound of car doors slamming echoes across the lot.

They're here.

We have to go.

"Now," Brick says.

We step out into the pre-dawn air like we belong there, like we're just another couple starting an early road trip.

The casual way we’re walking together is a mask, but it's one I've worn my entire life.

Brick matches my pace, his body language relaxed even with the tension I can feel radiating from him.

Twenty yards to the bike. Fifteen. Ten.

"There!" A shout from behind us, followed by the sound of running boots on pavement.

Brick breaks into a sprint, and I'm right behind him.

We reach the Harley as the first shots ring out, bullets sparking off the asphalt near our feet.

Brick throws his leg over the bike and kicks the engine to life while I slide on behind him.

I draw my weapon, twisting to return fire over his shoulder.

The shot is hasty but accurate enough to make our pursuers duck for cover behind their vehicles.

"Hold on!" Brick shouts over the engine.

More gunfire erupts, this time closer.

A bullet whines past my ear, close enough that I feel the displaced air.

I adjust my position, using Brick's broad back for partial cover while still shooting back.

The Harley roars as Brick opens the throttle, the bike lurching forward faster than it has before.

I keep shooting until my magazine runs out, then duck down to reload as he weaves between the motel's parked cars toward the street.

A bullet sparks off the bike's frame, but the engine keeps running strong.

We're moving, putting distance between us and our hunters.

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