Chapter 8 - THE CRASH
~900 words
The SUV roared to life, its massive V8 engine echoing like a bomb in the concrete garage.
Arthur barely had time to jump back as I threw the car into reverse. The side mirror clipped his shoulder, spinning him around.
“Hold on!” I screamed to June and Charlotte.
I slammed the gearshift into drive and floored it. The heavy armored vehicle tore out of the garage, tires screaming against the pavement.
A sharp crack echoed behind us, and a spiderweb of shattered glass appeared on the rear window. Arthur was shooting. But the glass was bulletproof.
I didn't stop. I tore down the long driveway, crashing straight through the wrought-iron security gates. The metal snapped like twigs.
We hit the main road, the SUV fishtailing as I fought for control.
“Where are we going?!” Charlotte yelled, clutching the headrest.
“To find Vincent!” I yelled back. “We have to give him this drive!”
“He’s at the airport!”
“Then we go to the airport!”
I pushed the heavy car to eighty miles an hour on the dark suburban roads. My hands were gripping the wheel so hard my knuckles were white.
In the rearview mirror, I saw headlights approaching fast.
Too fast.
“He’s following us,” June whispered.
Arthur was in a sleek, dark sedan, weaving through traffic with terrifying precision. He wasn't giving up. That drive was his golden ticket.
“Call Marcus!” I yelled to Charlotte. “Use your phone!”
“I left it inside!” she panicked.
I dug my own phone out of my pocket and tossed it into the back seat. “Unlock it! Dial the last number!”
Charlotte fumbled with the phone, her hands shaking violently. “It’s ringing!”
“Put it on speaker!”
Marcus’s deep voice filled the car. “Evelyn? Where are you?”
“Marcus! We’re on Route 9, heading east! Arthur is behind us! He has a gun!”
There was a string of curses on the other end. Then Vincent’s voice came through, loud and sharp. “Evelyn, listen to me. Keep the car steady. The SUV is armored. He can’t shoot through the panels or the glass.”
“He’s trying to run us off the road!” I screamed as Arthur’s sedan slammed into our rear bumper. The SUV swerved wildly.
“Do not stop,” Vincent ordered. “We are tracking the GPS in the SUV. We are five minutes away. Keep driving.”
Another massive jolt rocked the car. Arthur pulled up alongside us on the passenger side. I looked over and saw him roll down his window, pointing the gun at my front tire.
“He’s going to shoot the tires!” I panicked.
“The tires are run-flats!” Vincent shouted over the phone. “Hit the brakes, let him pass, then ram him!”
I didn't have time to think. I slammed both feet on the brake pedal.
The heavy SUV groaned, tires locking up and smoking as we decelerated instantly.
Arthur’s sedan shot past us, completely missing his shot.
“Now! Hit him!” Vincent yelled from the phone.
I floored the gas again. The massive grille of the Cadillac slammed violently into the rear quarter panel of Arthur’s sedan.
The physics were undeniable. A six-thousand-pound armored truck against a lightweight sedan.
Arthur’s car spun out of control. It slid across two lanes, hit the guardrail, flipped over entirely, and skidded upside down in a shower of sparks before slamming into a concrete bridge support.
I slammed the brakes again, pulling the SUV onto the shoulder.
The silence in the car was deafening, broken only by our heavy breathing.
“Evelyn?” Vincent’s voice asked from the phone.
“He crashed,” I gasped. “He’s... I think he’s stopped.”
“Lock the doors. Do not get out. We are pulling up right now.”
In the rearview mirror, three black SUVs with flashing high beams came tearing down the road. They swerved to a halt surrounding Arthur’s wrecked car.
Vincent and Marcus jumped out, guns drawn.
I watched in the side mirror as they approached the upside-down sedan.
Marcus kicked the shattered window in. He reached inside and hauled Arthur out by his collar. Arthur was bleeding from a cut on his forehead, coughing and groaning, but alive.
Vincent walked over to him. He didn't yell. He didn't hit him.
He just leaned in close and whispered something in Arthur’s ear.
Then he signaled for Marcus to put him in one of the other trucks.
Vincent walked over to my SUV and tapped on the glass. I unlocked the door.
He looked at me, then at June and Charlotte in the back.
“Are you all alright?”
“We’re fine,” I breathed, handing him the velvet pouch. “He wanted this.”
Vincent took it, looking at the teardrop necklace.
“Maria’s drive,” he said softly.
May you like
My eyes widened. “You knew about it?”
“I’m the one who gave it to her,” Vincent said.
