Page 12 of Fighting for Mallory

Luca recognized the shape and size of a Jeep Grand Cherokee cresting the rise of a hill. He threw the Charger into gear and pressed hard on the gas pedal. The tires churned the sparse grass before gaining traction and thrusting the car forward like a racehorse out of the starting gate. Luca pulled onto the highway and turned east.

Mallory squeezed his upper thigh. “Are you taking me to CIW?”

“Hell no, baby! We’re heading east for a bit, then north until we get to Justice and Brielle’s cabin in the Sierra Nevada mountains.” Luca glanced in the rearview mirror and let out a string of expletives in Italian. The Cherokee was gaining on them. Luca increased his speed.

Though the Charger topped one hundred miles per hour, the Cherokee easily caught up to them and rammed the back bumper, causing the smaller car to swerve. Luca floored it, but the Cherokee opened fire on them and stayed on their tail.

“Duck!” Luca yelled. He forced Mallory’s head down with one hand while fighting to keep control of the Charger.

Bullets shattered the rear window, spraying glass over them. Luca jerked the steering wheel to the right, and the Charger careened off the road. They bumped along the rough terrain, followed by the Cherokee, which was far better equipped for it.

A bullet whizzed by Mallory’s head and cracked the windshield. Luca pushed the Charger to its limits. It shimmied beneath him. He knew it was only a matter of time before they were overtaken by their attackers.

“Mallory, when I stop, I want you to unload every bullet in the magazine in your gun at their tires and engine. I’ll aim for the driver. Get ready.”

Luca pulled hard on the steering wheel and turned into a one-eighty. He headed straight for the Cherokee, then slammed on the brakes. The Charger fishtailed before it came to a stop. He and Mallory jumped from the car. They took their stance, using the car doors for cover, and fired repeatedly.

As they littered the Cherokee with bullets, Luca wished Macklin, the sharpshooter, were with them. But their aim was accurate, and luck was on their side. The front tires of the Cherokee blew out, and bullets struck the gas tank which caused the vehicle to explode into a fireball a few hundred feet away from them.

“Get in the car!” Luca shouted.

They traveled several miles before he pulled over to the side of the road and smashed his cell phone into pieces. Using a burner phone he kept in the glove compartment to contact Mallory, Luca first called 911 to report the accident, then Hutch to explain their predicament.

“Under no circumstances are you to share any of this with Justice. He has enough on his plate right now worrying about Brielle and Tawny, and whatever Madame Secretary has now laid on him. Keep Finnigan out of the loop, too. He’s playing by the rules.”

Hutch agreed. “I’m calling Tex in on this to help investigate the fanged copperhead tattoo angle. These guys operating in the shadows won’t want to be caught a second time.”

“We need to find the chauffeur who drove Mallory and Bentley to the fundraiser.”

“I’ll do my best, Luca. Where are you and Mallory going?”

“I’m not saying. Better you don’t know. When you’re questioned, you can truthfully answer that you have no idea. But I don’t intend to turn Mallory over to the authorities. She’s not safe. I’m protecting her until we figure out who’s behind this and why.”

“Copy that. I’m tracking you as we speak through the Charger’s GPS. You need to ditch the car fast. Listen, there’s a Super 8 motel due east of your location. Head there and check in. Hide the car. In the meantime, I’m going to cover your tracks. In the morning, you’ll find a new car outside your motel room. Inside will be duffel bags with clothes and necessities, fake IDs for you and Mallory, and new burner phones.”

“Thanks, Hutch. I’m going to destroy this phone after we hang up.”

“Good luck, Brother.”

Luca hammered the burner phone with the butt of his gun until it disintegrated. He took the shards of both phones and buried them in the ground before climbing behind the wheel again.

As he headed east, he tried to smile at Mallory, but it was more of a grimace. “We have a plan.”

“Luca, you’ve been shot.”

Blood dripped from his left ear and shoulder. Another bullet had grazed his right forearm, and it, too, bled. Luca shrugged off Mallory’s concern. “Flesh wounds, nothing more.”

They fell silent during the next fifteen miles. Luca found the Super 8 without any difficulty and ordered Mallory to hide in the footwell while he checked in. He wasn’t concerned about security cameras because he knew Hutch had hacked into the system to disable them. As he waited to get his room key, Luca noticed a tiny gift shop in a corner of the lobby, unusual for this chain of motels, and he blessed St. Christopher.

“I’ll be right back.”

A bored clerk watched him with a wary eye as he loaded up on snacks, drinks, a first-aid kit, Advil, toothbrushes toothpaste, combs, Arid Extra-Dry, and T-shirts for him and Mallory. Luca placed everything on the counter and shifted from foot to foot as the clerk took his sweet time ringing him up.

“You been in a fight? ‘Cause we don’t want any trouble.”

“No. A car accident.”

“Oh, sorry.” The clerk handed him two bags. “Enjoy your stay.”

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