Page 149 of The Final Cut

“Lower.”

I slide as far as the seat belt allows, one arm over my head as if my bones can contribute anything meaningful against bullets. The car lurches left. Then right. Shiloh takes a corner too fast, and the back end fishtails for a second before he catches it with an ugly, controlled correction that makes my stomach drop.

Another shot. Metal screams somewhere behind us.

“Talk to me,” Shiloh says, voice hard now.

Ever answers, “Lead them two blocks west. Black SUV coming up behind them. Second unit ahead if you can make the turn onto St. Claude.”

“They’re pushing me away from it.”

“I see that.”

“You have cameras?”

“Enough.”

Shiloh laughs once without humor. “Love when you say comforting things.”

“Drive.”

He does.

The sedan rams us.

“Motherfuck—”

The impact throws me against the seat belt and snaps my head sideways. Pain flashes through my shoulder. Shiloh curses and keeps the wheel steady by force, foot dropping harder on the gas as the SUV surges forward.

My eyes burn. My teeth are clenched so tightly my jaw aches.

I think of Cal’s hand under mine.

I think of my mother in the chapel.

I think of Nash letting me leave.

If I die after all that, I am going to be furious.

The sedan comes up on our left, trying to edge us toward a row of parked cars. I can see the passenger now through rain and shadow, face half covered, gun angled toward our tires.

“Shiloh,” I whisper.

“I know.”

He brakes hard.

The sedan shoots half a length ahead.

Shiloh jerks the wheel right, taking an alley I do not see until we are already in it. The SUV clips something metal with a shriek. Trash bins scatter. Rainwater sprays high against brick. The alley is too narrow, too dark, too much like a throat closing around us.

Then we burst out the other end.

A black SUV swings into the street behind the sedan. Not ours.

No—ours. I know because the vehicle does not hesitate. It hits the sedan’s rear quarter panel with brutal precision, spinning it sideways. The sedan’s brake lights flare red through the rain.

Another vehicle comes from the cross street ahead, cutting off its escape.