Page 47 of Montana Falls
“She’s going to murder us all,” I muttered, half in awe, half amused. “Or at least run us over.”
“Probably. But she looks hot as fuck doing it.” Price added with a snort. “I’ll lie down and play victim for her. That’s cool with me.”
The tank lurched forward, moving with a surprising smoothness as it rolled out of the shed and straight towards the construction site. Its treads crunched over the gravel and stone and destroyed anything in its path. But none of it was as loud or as maniacal as my girl’s laughter, echoing throughout the air, as she chased down her prey in a way that was far too fitting for her.
“She’s never getting out of that tank. We’re going to have to drag her out of it just to go home.” Logan sighed, as we all shared a look of agreement before we did the jobs we’d been ordered. And chased down John O’Malley, whilst our wicked queen took her tank to slaughter him with, just like he deserved.
Chapter Fourteen
The tank rumbled beneath me; the vibrations coursing through my arms as I gripped the controls, trying to keep the damn thing steady. Lincoln sat in the same seat beneath me, smirking in the small mirror opposite, like he was about to say something annoying. I could feel it coming. I just knew my bunny would find a way to pretend that I wasn’t doing an expert job driving my pretty new toy.
“Careful, brat,” he teased, bracing himself as we smashed through some rusted metal sheeting. The noise was deafening—metal screeching and bending as we tore through it like it was made of paper. “You trying to kill us before we even get to John? That’s what it feels like.”
I shot him a look over my shoulder, one hand firmly on the controls as the tank lurched forward. “It’s not my fault they left this thing to be here for a decade to rust. Maybe if it wasn’t so ancient and silly like you, it’d be easier to drive.”
“Or maybe,” he said, his grin widening, “it’s just your terrible driving and you should have let me take control on my own so we don’t run over Price or something.”
“Shut up,” I snorted, pressing harder on the accelerator. “I would never hit any of you. Well, I would hityou. But only when we play that game of chicken you owe me and you lost.”
The tank surged forward, smashing over rubble and debris like it was nothing. The power of it was exhilarating and I honestly felt like a god. The best sort of god that was all evil and violent, and who nothing could stop. Not the jagged rocks, not the rusted pipes, not even the crumbling remains that were scattered across the ground. We rolled over everything, flattening it like it wasn’t even there.
A minute inside the tank certified my thoughts about buying one.
A few minutes in it, and I was sure I’d end up using one as my daily vehicle of choice.
Lincoln was still laughing as time passed, and my skills became more apparent. “You know, you’re supposed to avoid the obstacles, not hit every single one.”
“I’m aiming for them, actually,” I shot back, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Adds to the fun if I pretend you are a brick and murder you, bunny.”
He snorted, and I could see him adjusting the turret controls on the dashboard, preparing for when we’d get close enough to John to shoot his weaselly brains out.
Which was going to be sooner than expected.
“Wait, I see something…” The ruins stretched out ahead of us like a maze, but suddenly John’s silhouette darted through the shadows of a wall, just ahead. He was running, scrambling up the side of a half-collapsed building like a rat fleeing a sinking ship.
“Where?!” Lincoln tensed up beneath me.
“To the left!” I replied, my pulse spiking as I slammed the tank forward, the treads grinding over the uneven ground, sending dust and debris flying everywhere.
Lincoln squinted, leaning forward to get a better look. “He’s climbing up that scaffolding on that big wall at the back. You think we can get closer? I don’t want to blow it all up and accidentally murder my brother or something.”
“Okay, bunny,” I grinned, adjusting the controls to navigate through a tight cluster of rocks and metal. The tank rumbled as it crunched over the obstacles, and I could see John glancing back toward me, looking the tiniest bit apprehensive.
I wasn’t surprised it took the addition of a tank for that bastard to fear me.
“Turn a bit to the left, then stay still; I think I can shoot near him. But prepare to run when I do.” Lincoln ordered, and I did as he asked, even if I pouted at the idea of getting out of my new toy.
A second later, an explosion echoed through the air, shaking the ground and sending chunks of the wall flying. John yelped loud enough for me to hear, losing his grip on the scaffolding and stumbling. He barely managed to catch himself on a lower ledge, but that was fine.
I didn’t want him to die yet. I wanted to play with him first.
“Let’s go hunting for an O’Malley.” I laughed to Lincoln.
We both jumped out of the tank, the cold, damp air hitting me as my boots hit the ground. My heart was still pounding with adrenaline, but it wasn’t just from the chase. It was the thrill of the hunt, the knowledge that we were finally going to catch John and that he truly had nowhere else to go.
He was all alone. His gang was nowhere in sight. His wife was dead. His sister had abandoned him for her shitty stalker games.
He’d underestimated me again, enough so that he hadn’t noticed my trap and now he was stuck in it.
