Page 96 of Harbinger

“I mean Iwasable to steal your three-million-dollar stolen car.”

True.

Bullets spray the back of our car, one finally getting stuck in the glass. It could shatter at any moment.

“Keep looking back at them through the mirror. The second you see them pop up and start shooting, start swerving, got it?”

She salutes me.

I move to lean out the window again, aiming once again at the tires.

They’re much bigger than us. They can squish us like bugs, and easily. The manpower they have means that they’re just trying to full-out kill us, not just slow us down.

But all I want to do is slow them down so we can get away.

Emptying my rounds, I lift off of the seat, digging in my back pocket for my backup cartridge. Whipping it out, I eject the old one, clicking the new one in place.

It takes ten more bullets to finally get one to stick in the wheel.

“Syd, I need you to trust me, okay?” I say, my heart racing.

She nods, not taking her eyes off the road.

“I need you to slow down a little. I need to be closer to them.”

Without a word, Sydney takes her foot off the gas, letting the car naturally slow down a little. The hummer gets closer… and closer…

I hold the gun out, ducking as bullets are shot at me before peeking back out once more.

I watch the wheels turn.

“A little closer, Syd. Yeah, that’s good. I can see it.”

I take aim, waiting for the right moment… and pull the trigger.

My bullet hits the bullet lodged in the rubber tire, pushing it all the way through. The tire explodes, and the Hummer rolls. The other truck behind him can’t stop in time and is sent backward with the hit.

The crunch of metal is loud, echoing through the streets as we continue speeding away.

“How do cops not know this is happening?” Sydney asks.

“They’re paid off,” I tell her flatly, the entire situation leaving me on edge.

She looks at me, lips pressing together as her knuckles turn white.

“Let’s drive around a little longer before we go back, okay?” I ask her, sinking into the seat and breathing deep.

“Of course,” she replies stiffly.

Hitting my head against the back of the seat, I watch as she drives around the city. She doesn’t seem scared right now. She isn’t looking out the back constantly. She looks out the window at the large building with a tall sign or points out a pedestrian breaking the law.

It seems oddly, well, normal for something that’s happening right after a high-speed chase.

Eventually, after an hour of making sure no one is on our tail, we head back to the compound.

TWENTY-SEVEN

SYDNEY

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