Page 2 of Intent to Kill
But that wasn’t all, much to his surprise, countless more pursuit vehicles had found a much more sensible route down, engines coughing as they accelerated.
“How the fuck did they get down here so fast?” Mercedes said.
“They really won’t quit, will they?” Adam said.
Mercedes took off again, pinning them both to the backs of their seats.
Lucky the chase was boosting him with adrenaline that he sucked up like a junkie because his body was ready to give out.
It had been a long stretch of denial that had led him to this chase. He had believed himself and his team were invincible, unstoppable, and that nothing in Ridge City could ever take them down, no matter how antagonizing they were.
Now, though, he had nowhere left to go. On the run for days and surviving on fumes. Where Adam was once sure that nothing could ever stop him, he was now sure that it would, and soon. Shortly the running would have to end. At some point Dorian Blake would catch him.
Now off road, they raced through the loading docks of industrial warehouses at the edge of the city, surrounded by enemy vehicles.
“Time to enter the game, player,” Mercedes said.
Finally in agreement, Adam opened the glove box to pull out two Colt .45 pistols, shoving ammo inside as he loaded them quickly.
He undid his seatbelt and stood in the front seat, resting his hands on the windshield as he fired multiple shots in succession. As he ran out of ammo, Mercedes threw more up to him. It was if they’d done this a thousand times. Because they had.
He found his way into the backseat, kneeling upright and firing from there, too.
Adam’s headshot to the nearest car’s driver swerved it off the road, rolling and exploding in a haze of fire. Two more and others were down, too, sending more smoke, more flames, and more charring smells into the air. Plopping down into the backseat, Adam smirked when he caught Mercedes grinning wickedly, almost lustfully, at the explosions behind them.
“You like that?”
“Do it again.”
“You’re sick, baby, that’s why I love you,” Adam said, joining her in the front seat again.
Adam’s face hit the side window as they were nudged to the side, a car approaching from the left to push them off the road.
“Motherfuckers!” Mercedes said. She hit the brakes suddenly, dropping her speed so she could slip in behind her opponent. Once there she snaked to the right, and jarred the wheel to the left, hitting the tail of the opposing vehicle and sending it flying off in a crumpled heap. She had always given much better than she got.
“Let’s finish this off, only a few to go,” Adam said.
“Oh, you’re done now, are you?”
“Just about,” Adam said.
Mercedes gripped the wheel with her knees, freeing her hands to load her gun and shoot at the drivers alongside them.
Adam followed suit and grabbed his backpack from behind the seat—grenades. He pulled the pins and threw them strategically into the open windows of nearby enemy vehicles, and in the direct paths of the ones farther away.
The ground shook beneath them like a thundering earthquake as the explosives shattered and cars flipped at all angles.
Maybe they would have to stop running, maybe they would be caught, but they would always fight until the end.
They were just starting to make a dent in the opposition, starting to wrap it up and relax, when in the distance Adam eyed even more cars approaching to replace the ones they had taken out. A quick glance at Mercedes confirmed that she had seen it, too. Dorian Blake’s army was never-ending and malicious. His gang of soldiers a bottomless pit of faceless, unimportant henchmen built to die. If they cut off the head of one, two more grew back in its place.
Adam reloaded his weapon and climbed into the backseat to shoot again. Raising his gun to his eye line, he only fired a few shots before the sound of tires screeching ahead demanded his attention.
Out of nowhere, a Blake Family truck appeared to block their path. It was too late to stop. Too late to do anything but smash directly into the side of the truck. Head on.
The force crumpled the hood, sending Adam flying out of the car in a parade of glass and metal.
He heard pounding.
