“How can you say that about Zeus? He was protecting me.”
“I miss him, but it’ll be good for us to be alone without any interruptions, don’t you think?” Cole chuckles and squeezes my leg again, quickly taking a moment to look me over.
“What’s so funny?”
“I just pictured him, sitting next to our bed, resting his head on the mattress, with his head cocked staring at us.” He leans back into his seat with that mouth-watering dimple dented in his cheek.
I feel my face warm. My mind replays the night before, when Zeus interrupted us by licking Cole’s back in the middle of a highly charged make-out session. Yes, time alone will be good. I laugh to myself.
I give Cole a coy smile, but he doesn’t notice. He’s turned his attention back to the road.
After a check of the rearview mirror, his lips seal into a thin line. He squints to get a better look and tightens his grip on the steering wheel.
“Damn it.” His body tenses. “We’ve got company.”
The hair on my neck rises. “What?” I glance behind us. A fast-moving, sleek, black vehicle trails a mile or so behind. One day, I’ll learn to trust my instincts. I knew this was too good to last. I flip back around and face Cole.
“I’m gonna grab the guns.” I can feel my heart begin galloping as adrenaline starts to pour into my veins.
“Yeah, we’re gonna need ’em,” he says.
I pull out his Glock and my SIG Sauer P229 compact that one of the resistance members gave me. Sweat trickles down my back as I place the guns on my lap and wipe my clammy hands on my pants.
“Hold tight. Don’t shoot till I say.” His voice is low and calm, but his rigid posture tells me he is just as nervous as me. Fear makes us better fighters, Keegan used to say. “Get ready.” He checks the rearview again.
Cole slams the gas pedal into the floor. My head jerks back, hitting the headrest. The car bucks against his demand, protesting his urgency with an engine that has seen better days.
I grip the guns, willing myself to be calm and breathe like he taught me. Here we go.
Cole clenches his jaw. “Crap.”
“What?” I glance over my shoulder again.
“They’re gaining on us!” He unbuckles his seatbelt.
The speedometer ticks up past eighty, but it feels like we’re moving at a snail’s pace compared to the approaching car. I shake my head. I check Cole’s Glock one last time, cocking it before handing it to him. Then I unbuckle my seatbelt too.
Cole raises an eyebrow at me, and I nod while pushing the seatbelt off to my right.
“Let’s do this,” I say.
“Remember, shoot to kill, don’t hesitate, not even for a second.”
“Got it.”
I scan my own hand, wrapped around my two-toned silver and black SIG. I double-check the extra magazines I have strapped around my waist. It amazes me that just before he died, Keegan showed me how to use a gun. Now he’s gone, and handling guns feels like second nature. I’ve become a killer.
My eyes focus on the vehicle closing in, though thoughts of Keegan bring me to tears.
The pounding in my chest gets louder. Just then, the sun disappears, and dark clouds, pregnant with rain, loom over us. I exhale while fingering the trigger of the cold metal weapon in my lap. I lick my dry lips and bite down in anticipation.
I hope we’re ready for them.
“Holy sh—” Cole yells.
I grasp the door handle as a dark Charger swings onto the road with a flash of black paint.
Cole swerves left, narrowly missing the oncoming car by a hair. Gunfire erupts from the other car. We’re so close I can see the green eyes of the driver and the black uniform he’s wearing.
“Ahhhhh!” I scream as the passenger side window behind me shatters into the backseat. They’re shooting at us.
Adrenaline bursts through me like fire, burning my veins. I lean out my open window and fire, pummeling the driver’s door with puncture holes. “All right, bastards. Let’s see what you got.”
The guard steers his car into ours, slamming us into the left-hand shoulder. Our car thumps over God knows what along the edge, bouncing me all over the place. I struggle to hold on. Cole’s shouting. Squealing tires and torrents of gunfire echo all around me as I’m thrown into him.
“Dammit!” I scream as I struggle back up and fire more rounds.
Click.
I’m empty. I eject the empty mag and slam another one in. Gripping the inside of the car with one hand, I try to aim with my right. But everything’s going too fast. My hair blows in front of my face, and my hand slips off the ledge. A knife of panic slices through me as I try to brace myself back up.
Cole’s cussing becomes background noise as he fights to keep the car on the road. “Shoot out their tires!” he yells. “Now!”
“I’m trying.” It comes out whinier than I expected.