“Won’t he follow us to the safe house?” Faith asked.
“We’re not going to the safe house right now,” Grant said, cutting in front again. “We’re trying to lose him. Give me your phone.”
“My phone? Why?”
“Just give it to me.”
Faith dug her cell phone out of her purse and held it up.
Grant took it and threw it out the window. A yellow taxi ran it over as Faith punched his shoulder.
“Hey!” she said. “I had a lot of cool pictures on it. You’re lucky I upload everything to cloud.”
“No cell phones. Anyone with the right tech can trace it. We have a guy who could probably trace a broken beeper. Shit.”
Grant’s eyes flicked to the rearview, his hands steady as he tried to jump into a left turn lane. He didn’t make it before a car cut across traffic and rear-ended them. They lurched forward.
“You alright?” Grant said, grabbing Faith’s shoulder.
“I’m fine.”
“Hold on.” He floored the pedal and flew through the light, car horns honking and curses flying out open windows as he went. The hitman followed.
Grant grabbed his phone and dialed Rusty. “We’re being chased. He rammed into your car. Got a little scratch. I don’t want to hear about it. Yeah, I got a plate number. Probably fake though. Yeah. I’ll take care of it.” Grant spun the wheel and careened onto a residential street, flooring it past garbage trucks and delivery vans. Faith gripped the seat.
“What are you doing? You’ll get us killed!”
“Trust me,” Grant said. He spun the car a hundred and eighty degrees and revved the engine, hurtling back down the street toward the pursuing car. “Close your eyes,” he said.
Faith covered her face with her hands.
Grant pulled his gun from his belt and pointed it out the open window, firing at the hitman as he drove past. He missed, shattering the car’s back window. The hitman slammed his breaks and Grant did the same. He leaned out the window and fired at the car’s tires. He blew one out.
Grant sped down the street and turned, driving a zig zag pattern across town toward the open safe house. “You can sit up now,” he said.
Faith lifted her face from her lap, her hands shaking. “Did you shoot someone?”
Grant shook his head. “I slowed him down. He can’t follow us anymore. But he’ll be back.” He turned to Faith, displaying the smile she’d never forgotten. “Don’t worry,” he said. “It’s just a matter of time before we get him.”
* * *
Hal inspectedthe disabled car and cussed. He kicked the flat tire. People came out of their houses and stared. Sirens blared in the distance. He took his bag out of the front seat and slung it over his shoulder. He dug a hat out of the front pocket and pulled it low over his face. He made a call.
“It’s me,” he said. “We have a complication.”
