Three Alpha Romeo

We made two quick right turns, then a third. The SUV seemed to realize the jig was up, and sped up to follow more closely.

“How many?”

“Two,” I said, slinging my arm over my headrest.

“Any weapons?”

I squinted. “It’s hard to tell, but—”

We swung back onto the main road, and the debris pile came into view again. I was sucked back into my seat as Marcus gunned the engine. He flew past the rubble and stomped on the brakes… just as I saw Randall leap into view.

CRASH!

Just behind us, the bearded SEAL had jumped from the top of the debris pile. He flew through the air wildly, coming down hard with both feet, right on the hood of the moving SUV…

… while smashing a cinder-block straight through the front windshield.

SCREEEECH!

The enemy vehicle skidded forward and sideways. The momentum sent Randall flying over the roof and bouncing down into the street. I flung open the door and ran to him, just as I noticed Marcus was no longer in the truck as well.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

The sound of gunshots rang out loudly, pinging low off the side of the SUV. I saw it lurch violently, sinking to one side as Marcus blew out both its right-side tires. The men inside were cowering now, arms over their heads.

Panic ensued. People on the streets were screaming and running, some clutching cellphones to their ears. A few were stopped dead in their tracks, frozen with terror.

In all the confusion I reached Randall. I held my hand out of him, just as he struggled to push himself to his feet.

“GO!”

Marcus’s yell was sharp and commanding. I turned and suddenly we were running for the truck again, this time with Randall’s hand on my back. He shoved me through the passenger door and into the front seat. Then he leapt in behind me, just as Marcus jumped in and floored the gas pedal.

“Hit it!”

Cars were screeching all around us, trying to get out of the way. Luckily, it opened up a lane for us. Marcus took it, making a series of sharp, random turns before pulling back onto a new main thoroughfare. I recognized it as one of the highways leading out of the city. Off in the distance we could hear sirens, blaring loudly.

“What’s the situation?” Marcus demanded tersely. His eyes shifted momentarily from the road. “Are you hurt? How bad?”

Randall was covered from head to toe in dust and debris. He looked like a bag of flour had exploded right next to him, except for a few scrapes of bright red on his knees and elbows.

“I’m good,” he said, giving a thumbs-up. Through the thick layer of dirt, his grin made his teeth look extra white. “Fanfuckingtastic, actually.”

“Thank God,” I breathed, checking him over. His wounds all seemed to be superficial. No major bleeding. No bones sticking out.

“You’re a psycho,” Marcus said. “You know that, right?”

Randall finished picking a piece of gravel from the end of his beard. As he did, I noticed his grin had somewhat faded at Marcus’s comment.

“Oh, yeah,” he said. “I’ve been told.”

Twenty-Four

ANDREA

We headed south together to Piraeus, along the Saronic Gulf. Out to where the where the blue waters of the Aegean yawned open again.

No one followed. It was just the three of us, rumbling along in the truck. My body pinned in the front seat between a hulking Army Ranger and a mouthwatering Navy SEAL.