Shame colors my cheeks at the derision in his voice and the knowledge that he’s right. Jerk.
“Take the wheel and give me the gun.”
What? I feel like we’re on a movie set in a high-speed chase, but the only problem is, I have no stunt doubles, and… this might not end with us magically escaping death. I’ve been in danger before, but nothing like this, where I fear for my life from my very own family.
My hands shake on the wheel, but I have one job to do, and goddamn it if I’m not going to do it as well as I can. I keep my hands on the wheel and my foot on the accelerator as we trade places. Dario grips the gun, turns, and points out his window at two cars coming at us. Gunshots puncture the air around us. A corner of the window next to Gray shatters. Bullets hit and sink into the metal. I jump with every impact.
“Give me the gun,” Gray says. “I have a better angle.”
“Like hell I’ll give you a gun,” Dario growls at him.
“Don’t give it to him,” I second. “Plus, he can’t even shoot with his wrists cuffed.”
“Shut the fuck up, you bitch,” Gray snaps at me.
Fuming hatred boils inside me. The traitor. The goddamn traitor.
I jump at the sound of Dario hitting Gray. “I don’t know who the fuck you are,” Dario says, his concentration on the cars behind us as I try to keep our car from swerving. “But she’s a Montavio, related to my family. You watch yourself.”
Not gonna lie, it’s hella satisfying. I may not have grown up with this guy, he might be a new inductee, but Dario’s got Rossi in his blood.
Gray growls, as more gunshots pepper the back of the car. I can hear them ricocheting off the bumper, the sound unnerving and terrifying all at once, but even I know we should be Swiss cheese by now.
“What is this car, like, bulletproof or something?” We should be so hard to target, nearly invincible.
“Of course. It’s an armored vehicle,” Dario responds. “Reinforced and souped up.”
Ah. Naturally. My cousin Mario and his friend Santo likely had fun with that job. Leave it to them to build a car sleek with luxury but as safe as a military-grade vehicle.
“So we just have to get away?”
“It’s not invincible,” Dario says. “There are certain spots impossible to fortify, and if we—”
As if on cue, the crack in the window next to Gray splinters, hit a second time in the same place. Again, and again, gunshots embed in the glass. Someone’s found a loophole in the armor and it’s working.
“Duck,” Dario growls to Gray. “You’re the one they want.”
“I want them to fucking kill me,” Gray says in a strangled voice. “I’d be better off than if they take me.”
I hear the sincerity in his voice. I cringe at the thought of death before capture.
Dario curses.
Our tires scrape the side of the curb. Shit, that’s my job. I quickly veer us back on course. The wheel shakes under my grip.
There’s a side street up ahead with orange detour signs all around.
“Detour. There won’t be any cars,” I tell Dario.
“Do it. I hit their tire and one of ‘em’s off course.”
“How many still following?”
“Two more.”
Fuck.
I yank the wheel right, hard. Gray’s head smacks against the glass as another shot fires. I focus on the road. It’s late, so there’s no construction workers, but up ahead are orange cones surrounding a torn-up road. I hold my breath but keep my cool, yank the wheel left to go around one hole, then right again to avoid another hole in the road. Someone screams in a nearby doorway, and on the corner a small group of teens smoking weed hoot and holler like they’re cheering us on. Dumbasses.