I stop short of the driveway and take up position near the front, far enough back to see the door and the windows without crowding the space. From here, I can watch all of it without running the risk of Brennan seeing me.
When Rivera rings the bell, for a second, nothing happens. Then a shadow moves behind the curtain. Rivera shifts the bag into his left hand, readying himself for anything. Everything about this feels like an ordinary delivery.
The door opens a few inches, then a little wider. A woman who is likely his aunt appears. She’s older than I expected, with gray hair pulled back into a bun at the nape of her neck. She’s wearing a sunny yellow sweater twin set paired with pearls. Her eyes go straight to the bag in Rivera’s hands.
“Yes?” she asks.
Rivera lifts the bag slightly. “Food delivery. For Charlie.”
Her brow creases. “Charlie?” She turns her head and calls back into the house. “Charlie, your food is here.”
I see the silhouette of a man move across the front window. Unless I miss my guess, that shadowed figure is Brennan. He comes into view behind her. He looks past the bag to Rivera, who is tall, muscular, and tattooed. I can see the moment it clicks in his brain that Rivera looks more like a biker than a food delivery driver. Brennan’s expression morphs into one of alarm and rage.
His hand dives into his pocket and comes back with a knife that he snaps open. In an act of desperation, he makes a grab for the only shield within his reach—his gray-haired aunt.
Shit!
I take off running at full speed to the house, watching it all unfold in real time.
Thankfully, Rivera’s lightning fast. He tosses the food bag away and grabs his aunt by the shoulders, pulling her forward just as Brennan makes a grab for her with his free hand. She gasps in shock and then lets out a blood-curdling scream as Rivera pivots and shoves her into Mica’s waiting hands. He forces her back, away from the front door, and I practically collide with them in my mad dash to get through the front door.
I’m aware of Mica guiding her off the porch and away from the house. She’s still shouting Brennan’s name and telling Mica to get his hands off her because she doesn’t know her nephew pulled out a knife and tried to grab her. That all happened behind her back.
I surge forward, entering the foyer with Rivera just over the threshold, just in time to see Brennan backing up with his knife held high and eyes wild.
“Calm the fuck down. Throw the knife aside and get down on your stomach. It’s the only way you’re getting out of this withoutme running you down and beating the shit outta you like last time.”
“Get back or I’ll cut you in places that matter.”
Rivera takes a step closer. “Look, asshole, you can’t run forever. The law’s gonna catch up with you.”
“Fuck that. I’m not going to jail for something I didn’t do,” he bites out.
Taking another step back, he pulls over a side table, turns, and runs. I chase after him, stumbling over the table in my haste. I can hear him crashing through the house, the back of the house, jerking over more furniture in an attempt to trip us up. This fucker is getting on my last nerve.
“He’s heading out the back door,” Slate’s voice crackles through the comm.
I realize all too late that he’s pulled over the refrigerator before slipping out the door. Rivera and I take turns jumping and diving out the door one after another. I see him running through the yard towards one of the cars. The house feels suddenly too small, too quiet, the aunt screaming for the neighbors to call the police because strangers are breaking into her house and attacking her nephew. The neighbors are starting to migrate out of their houses, and that complicates things.
Amidst the chaos, Brennan reaches his car first. He slips inside and the engine turns over on the first try. He’s spitting gravel as he tears out of the driveway and cuts hard towards the alley. By the time I hit the yard, he’s already disappearing between fences.
“Vehicles,” I say, already moving. The others don’t hesitate. Within minutes we’re loaded back into the two vehicles we arrived in and the hunt is on.
We hit the alley just in time to see Brennan fishtail onto the street. He doesn’t slow down for anything. Instead, he cuts corners too tight, clips a curb, and speeds right through a stopsign without even tapping the brakes. He knows the area better than we do and that puts us at a disadvantage. He slides onto side streets, doing his best to shake us before anyone notices what’s happening.
“Don’t let him get to the main road,” I say through the comm.
“I won’t,” Jinx answers tightly from the other vehicle.
Brennan looks back once, just long enough to see that we’re still in hot pursuit. That’s when he swerves hard, trying to force us off the road. The impact glances off the side of the SUV. A horrible metal-on-metal shriek draws attention from everyone who’s not already looking. Mica fights the wheel to keep from careening off the road.
“Son of a bitch,” I mutter, bracing myself. “This fucker is apeshit crazy.”
Brennan tries again, clipping our rear quarter panel. I think to myself that he’s getting ever more desperate and reckless. But when I look over at him, Brennan gives me a feral grin, like he’s having the time of his life.
Mica doesn’t wait for a third attempt. He hits the brakes, drops back until we’re alongside Brennan’s back end, and bumps him just enough to break his control. The maneuver works perfectly. Brennan’s car spins, tires screaming, then slides off the road and drops nose-first into a ditch.
He tries to spin out by pushing the gas pedal, but his car is wedged into the ditch at an odd angle, and he can’t get any traction.
