The rest of her sentence is cut off when the truck chasing us catches up, primarily because I’m driving to keep from killingpedestrians, and he isn’t. He smashes into my back bumper, sending us surging forward. I yank the steering wheel to the left, jumping over a curb and across a bare stretch of sidewalk to get us onto a quieter street.
“Put your head down.” I dinna give her time to process it, grabbing a handful of her hair and pushing her head to her knees. Glass shatters as the back window blows out, and I take another sharp right turn. “Luna, I need you to listen to me. Open the glovebox. There is a red button in the center at the top. Push it.”
She’s on it, yanking the glovebox open and stabbing the button. “Is this like the bat signal? Do the other villainous superheroes show up?”
“You’re being remarkably calm for someone in this situation,” I say approvingly, “and aye, the beacon helps our security track the car.” We both duck as another bullet rips through the car, embedding itself in the back of my seat.
“I’m not calm,” she says, “I’m in shock.”
Taking another turn, we’re on the M74 motorway with only a few cars meandering along.
Pulling my Glock out from under my jacket, I say, “Put your hands on the steering wheel. It is very important that you keep the car straight so I can shoot. Can you do that?”
“Yes.”
Her fingers tighten on the wheel as I shift in my seat, sighting down the barrel at the truck. Its front bumper is dragging after colliding with us, sending off sparks on the roadway, and the grill is busted.
“Though I find it interesting that you go back to the snotty British accent that you used when you were undercover and things got dire.” My bride’s voice shakes just slightly, but her grip on the wheel is strong.
“Chasing you through the forest was the highlight of that bloody assignment, I assure you.” Shite, she’s right. I am talking blue blood again.
Narrowing my gaze, I shoot through the truck’s radiator, enjoying the instant geyser of steam shooting out of the twisted metal. The Range Rover sways slightly as Luna maneuvers us around a slow-moving car. I catch a glimpse of the driver’s shocked face as we pass him and he indignantly lays on the horn. The fecking truck sideswipes him, and the sedan goes into a spin, ending up in the grassy median.
The dashboard lights up as Logan’s voice comes out of the speakers. “How many?”
Luna jumps a little but hangs onto the steering wheel.
“One truck,” I say. “I put a bullet through the radiator, but it must be reinforced.”
I shoot out the windshield, and one of their men kicks it loose, leaning forward and trying to get a better shot. My next shot goes wide as Luna passes another car, but the next one gets him in the chest. The truck’s slowing down, which means the driver’s likely the only one left and dinna appreciate these odds.
“We’re five minutes to your location,” Logan says. “You’re comin’ up on an exit, aye? Georges is trying to disable the traffic light to keep it green for ya.”
“Shit shit shit shit shit!” Luna dinna sound quite as composed now. “Two cars! Are you seeing them?”
My driver’s side window shatters as a piece of glass hits Luna’s cheekbone, leaving a streak of red, andnowI’m fecking angry. The car pacing me has a sloppy driver, he’s not keeping steady enough for the arsehole in the passenger seat to take his shot.
Fortunately, I have my bride, whose death grip on the steering wheel is straight and true, and I pull the trigger, taking out the shooter and making their car swerve. The Range Rover rocks violently as the second car just behind us sprays the passenger side with ammunition; the deafening ‘thud!’ of bullets embedding themselves in metal makes my ears ring.
Those bastards are shooting at Luna.
“Fecking machine gun. Baby, I’m counting down. When I say one, I’m gonna slam on the brakes. Keep your seatbelt on.”
“Yeah, okay.” She’s gritting her teeth.
Because I’m a sick bastard and why not be chatty when you’re in a gunfight, I say, “I was hard as fuck when I was chasing you through the woods. You were so angry and determined. I sprouted a stonner when you called Deacon a little bitch.”
Her eyes never leave the road. “Are youserious?You got turned on by chasing me?”
“Fuck yes,” I say fervently, reloading my Glock.
“Really?” Logan interrupts.
“What the- you actually- that’s so wrong.” She frowns, shaking her head. “It’s also kind of… Is that hot? It’s hot. I don’t mean anything I say right now because you’re firing a gun like this isScarfaceand I’m in shock!”
“Take a deep breath, Luna,” Logan advises. “Kai’s one of the best shooters in the clan. So, I never heard about this chase. Were ya naked?”
“Shut the fuck up unless it’s related to this specific situation!” I shout at the dashboard, and my eejit brother chuckles.
