Split Second (Sean King & Michelle Maxwell 1)

“Slow it down,” she warned.

He feigned astonishment. “Words I never thought I would hear leave your mouth.”

“I drive fast because I know how to.”

“I’ve got the injuries and therapy bills to prove otherwise,” he shot back.

She gave him a scowl and then looked away. “So what now that we’ve finished all the work on Edgar Roy’s matter?”

“We continue our careers as private investigators and earn some income. Both Peter Bunting and the government were very generous with their payments to us, but we’re socking that away to either retire on or spend on a rainy day.”

Michelle looked to the stormy sky. “Rainy day? Then let’s go buy a yacht. We might need it to get home.”

Sean would have said something back, but he was suddenly preoccupied.

“Damn!”

He cut the wheel hard to the left and the Land Cruiser spun sideways across the slickened roadway.

“Turn into it,” advised Michelle calmly.

Sean turned into the spin and quickly regained control of the Cruiser. He applied the brakes and brought them to a stop on the shoulder.

“What the hell was that?” he snapped.

“You mean who was that,” answered Michelle.

She opened the door and leaned out into the rain.

“Michelle, wait,” said Sean as he started to turn off the car.

“Keep it on,” she snapped, scanning up ahead. “Point the lights straight up ahead.”

She slammed the door shut and Sean drove the Cruiser back onto the road.

“Hit your brights,” she told him.

He did so and the lights swelled in intensity, allowing them to see about thirty feet in front of them with as much clarity as the night and rain would allow.

“There,” said Michelle, pointing to the right. “Go, go.”

Sean hit the gas and the Cruiser sped forward.

The person running down the right shoulder of the road looked back only once. But it was enough.

“It’s a kid,” said Sean in amazement.

“It’s a teenager,” corrected Michelle.

“Well, he was almost a dead teenager,” added Sean sternly.

“Sean, he’s got a gun.”

Sean leaned closer to the windshield and saw the weapon in the boy’s right hand.

“This does not look good,” he said.

“He looks terrified.”