Page 60 of City of Salvation

He shook his head, but released his hold, and I moved all the way to the ruined rear windshield. It was still in place, but there was a giant hole, and the entire thing was splintered, looking like a spiderweb.

“Well, this isn’t going to work,” I muttered, shoving the heel of my foot into the damaged glass, kicking out the window.

“Nikki, what thefuckare you doing,” Dex yelled out, competing with the increased volume now coming in.

“Listen, I have good aim, but not that fucking good. I needed a bigger hole.”

Whatever curse words he yelled at me got carried away in the desert air, now whipping through the vehicle. I braced my back against the side near the wheel well. Our speed climbed higher and higher, but our pursuer matched us. The empty stretch of desert didn’t help—there was nothing to lose them in, not side streets or oncoming traffic.

Another barrage of bullets popped off, and I shielded myself with my arms. As soon as there was a break, I popped up, getting off a few rounds. They pinged off the car’s front windshield.

“Bulletproof,” I shouted, ducking back down.

“Fuck. We need backup.”

I moved back into position, this time aiming for the front tires, something you couldn’t bulletproof, but our angle was shit. “Already done,” I yelled out, cursing under my breath when one of my shots barely missed my mark. “Sent Ryan an SOS and my location.”

“I could fucking kiss you, Nikki,” Dex yelled, yanking the SUV to the side. “Get back up here.”

“What?”

Carefully, I maneuvered back into the passenger seat.

He didn’t look at me, too focused on trying to outrun the lighter car trailing us. “Climb onto my lap, baby. We need a better angle. If you flip a bitch?—"

“You want me to flip the car?” My voice went up in volume. I knew he was wild but what good would flipping the car do?

I could hear the laughter in his voice. “No, it means make a U-turn. I want you to make it so they’re on my side. I’m going to try and shoot their tires.”

I was quiet for a few moments, trying to process the batshit idea, but then a bullet whizzed between us, making up my mind.

I climbed into his lap, placing my hands on the steering wheel with his. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea that they let us be together. You’re just as reckless as I am,” he said. Adrenaline pounded through my veins, and I couldn’t tell if it was reality or a final wish that I felt Dex’s lips on the back of my head. He rolled our window down. “Fucking hold on, babe.”

He cranked the wheel, the harsh move sending us up on two tires for a moment before bouncing back down. “Okay, hold tight. And if I say duck, fuckingduck,” he yelled.

I didn’t think, just acted, gripping the wheel and holding it steady as I pushed the gas pedal into the floor. Dex leanedout the window and popped off several rounds. He was a fucking great shot, hitting the gunman hanging out of the window. When they all took cover behind the bulletproofing, Dex aimed for the tire. His shot connected.

“Hell, yeah. That’s my girl,” Dex yelled as we zoomed past.

Now we had to make it back to the road in one piece and hope Ryan and backup were close, because a bullet in the tire wasn’t as dramatic as in movies. They were still pursuing us, but the hole would make driving at high speeds unpredictable, and I was hoping it would be enough to give us an edge.

“There,” I shouted, pointing to headlights in the distance headed our way.

“You sure they’re friends and not foes?” he asked, a clear edge of concern. His arm wrapped around my waist, acting like my seatbelt since we’d never strapped me in. As if he realized the same thing, he unbuckled, rebuckling the belt around both of us.

“It probably won’t do shit, but I’m not fucking risking it.”

I nodded in agreement, breathing out a sigh of relief when the headlights illuminated a pissed-off cartel boss.

“Thank fuck,” Dex said.

We flew past them, and Dex pumped on the brakes as soon as we passed the line of SUVs and motorcycles, positioning at an angle like the others.

He scooped me up, unfolding us both out of the car and running in a crouch toward one of the Range Rovers parked farthest away.

Shouts and more gunfire went off from where our pursuer was finally reaching the line of Los Muertos and Skeletons. Dex ran his hands over my face and body, inspecting me for any injuries, nodding his head when he was confident I wasokay. I returned the favor, batting his hand away when he complained.

“I knew spitfire fit you,” he said, his mouth pulling up in a crooked grin before falling away. “I’m glad you’re okay. It was a little touch and go there for a second.”

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