Staying put meant getting shot. Leaving cover meant getting shot. And a prolonged firefight in an open meadow meant sirens, cops, witnesses.
He emptied his magazine and peeled out.
I sent my last two rounds through his rear window as he fishtailed across the northbound lanes, cut through the median, and sped back toward the city.
If I'd hit him during the exchange, it didn't show. He drove steady, fast, disappearing into traffic.
I watched the highway for signs of his return—nothing. Just the usual flow: beat-up pickups, a rusty minivan, a flatbed hauling junkers.
He was gone.
I holstered the .45 and turned toward Julia's car, pulse still hammering.
Time to make sure she was alive.
I found her sitting upright and surveying the sauce splattered across her designer coat. My heart squeezed. She wouldn't quite meet my eyes.
“Quentin.” Relief flooded her voice. “You're a sight for sore eyes.”
She climbed out through the window—the door hopelessly jammed against a rotted log. “I'm grateful, but where did you come from?”
I held out my hand to help her find solid footing. “Security caught someone stalking you in the parking garage. I figured you were heading home and took the most likely route. Caught up right before you pulled into The Crimson Rooster.”
She glanced back at her wrecked car. “Guess that was a mistake.”
“Nashville Hot?”
Her gaze dropped to the sauce covering her clothes. “Damn! I just bought this outfit.”
“You're lucky to be alive.” I nodded toward her car. “I'm guessing you weren't armed.”
“No.” She shook her head. “That's going to change.”
“Better to be tried by twelve than carried by six.”
She blinked at me. “What?”
“Better to face a jury for illegally carrying than have six pallbearers carry your—”
“Coffin.” A tired smile touched her lips. “Got it. Sorry, I'm just... frazzled.” The smile faded. “Why does someone want to kill me?”
“We need to get off the road.” My phone buzzed. It was Stone. “How far out are you?”
Stone's tone had an edge to it, clipped and terse. “Fifteen minutes. You okay?”
“Yeah. Gunman got away. Julia and I are unhurt, but we need two cars to disappear.”
“On it.” Stone hung up.
“Get whatever you need from your vehicle. Stone will be here in about 15 minutes. These two vehicles will be taken care of—”
“My car?”
“I’ll buy you an identical one to replace it.” I moved closer, resting my hand on her shoulder. “You’re okay. That’s what matters. Don’t worry about the car.”
She nodded and slipped off her shoes. “These were definitely not made for hiking.”
As she climbed back through the window, her body stretched and twisted in ways that made my mouth go dry. The curve of her hips, the long line of her legs—I had the sudden, overwhelming urge to grab her and pull her back out, forget about the car entirely.
