we drove past.
I couldn’t decide why the man had been denied his shot unless the tattooed leader wanted our deaths to be more personal – or permanent.
I gave the minivan throttle and raced it along the drive, twin fans of seashells marking its progress like spume on waves. Then we’d got as far as the gate on to the mountain road.
‘Holy God,’ Don muttered under his breath. ‘I think we’re going to make it!’
‘Not yet.’ I swung the wheel to the left, away from the relative safety of Bedford Well or the city of Hertford.
On the road, I accelerated away.
Still the minivan wasn’t moving fast enough to avoid the Ford Focus rear-ending it.
The collision forced the minivan to fishtail and I had to fight the wheel to keep us going straight. I won the battle, glancing in the rear-view mirror.
Fuck , I thought, as I recognised the pompadour of the Ford’s driver, the spiky hair of his passenger. I also recalled my dark humour when first I’d noticed the oddball couple outside Don’s house. Maybe I should have killed you after all.
Chapter 15
Having had a good idea where Millie was headed, Vince had thought it best to fall back and allow plenty of distance between them. On the mountain roads, there was very little traffic and the car would stand out, anonymous as it was. No hurry, he’d told Sonya. But there was. He knew that Gant and the others were already in place around Adrian Reynolds’ house, and it was imperative he got there before things kicked off.
Sonya had suggested pulling over, having a little fun before joining the others. Chances were that once things got underway they’d be too busy for fooling around. Except Vince wasn’t up for it. To keep her happy he’d reached across to her but she’d slapped his hands away.
‘Offer’s gone, lover boy. We don’t want to, like, miss anything, do we?’ she said.
‘Suppose not,’ Vince replied gloomily. He sighed dramatically to cover his relief, and caught a pout from Sonya.
Thinking to appease him, she laid a hand in his crotch as he drove.
‘As much as I like that, babe, maybe you’d better fill your hand with something else.’
‘I’ve small hands, isn’t it full enough?’ she asked with a gleam in her eye.
‘I hear you, babe, but I’m serious . . .’ He nodded towards the back seat and Sonya twisted round so she could haul the knapsack on to her lap. She unzipped it and tugged out the first of two Glock 19s. Inside the bag were extra magazines and she expertly inserted one into the butt of the gun, racked the slide to arm it, then flicked on the safety. She repeated the process and dropped a gun between Vince’s thighs. He whistled.
‘Easy, babe, you could have shot off my dick.’
‘I’d have to be a better shot than I am to hit that teeny-weeny thing,’ she smiled.
‘Think you could hit a car?’ he asked.
Sonya followed his gaze, watching open-mouthed as a pale blue minivan roared out of a driveway ahead. It was like the vehicles that soccer moms drive, loads of seats in the back to cart around a horde of children. She recognised Don Griffiths in the front passenger seat before the minivan spun away from them.
‘Shee-it,’ Vince yelled. ‘Looks like Gant’s blown it, big time.’
He pressed the gas pedal, and raced after the minivan. With momentum on his side, he caught up with it in seconds, rear-ending the heavier vehicle. Coloured glass bounced up the windscreen of the Ford as the van’s rear lights shattered, but the van absorbed the collision, then powered away.
Sonya looked left, saw the flames and the smoke around the Reynolds household. ‘Can’t believe they started without us . . .’
‘You know Gant,’ Vince snorted. ‘Never was the patient type.’
‘Do you think he’d want us to stop them?’
Vince raised his eyebrows, puffed out air.
He rammed the pedal to the floor, pushing the Ford on. ‘That’s why we’re here, babe.’
Sonya bounced up and down in her seat in her
I couldn’t decide why the man had been denied his shot unless the tattooed leader wanted our deaths to be more personal – or permanent.
I gave the minivan throttle and raced it along the drive, twin fans of seashells marking its progress like spume on waves. Then we’d got as far as the gate on to the mountain road.
‘Holy God,’ Don muttered under his breath. ‘I think we’re going to make it!’
‘Not yet.’ I swung the wheel to the left, away from the relative safety of Bedford Well or the city of Hertford.
On the road, I accelerated away.
Still the minivan wasn’t moving fast enough to avoid the Ford Focus rear-ending it.
The collision forced the minivan to fishtail and I had to fight the wheel to keep us going straight. I won the battle, glancing in the rear-view mirror.
Fuck , I thought, as I recognised the pompadour of the Ford’s driver, the spiky hair of his passenger. I also recalled my dark humour when first I’d noticed the oddball couple outside Don’s house. Maybe I should have killed you after all.
Chapter 15
Having had a good idea where Millie was headed, Vince had thought it best to fall back and allow plenty of distance between them. On the mountain roads, there was very little traffic and the car would stand out, anonymous as it was. No hurry, he’d told Sonya. But there was. He knew that Gant and the others were already in place around Adrian Reynolds’ house, and it was imperative he got there before things kicked off.
Sonya had suggested pulling over, having a little fun before joining the others. Chances were that once things got underway they’d be too busy for fooling around. Except Vince wasn’t up for it. To keep her happy he’d reached across to her but she’d slapped his hands away.
‘Offer’s gone, lover boy. We don’t want to, like, miss anything, do we?’ she said.
‘Suppose not,’ Vince replied gloomily. He sighed dramatically to cover his relief, and caught a pout from Sonya.
Thinking to appease him, she laid a hand in his crotch as he drove.
‘As much as I like that, babe, maybe you’d better fill your hand with something else.’
‘I’ve small hands, isn’t it full enough?’ she asked with a gleam in her eye.
‘I hear you, babe, but I’m serious . . .’ He nodded towards the back seat and Sonya twisted round so she could haul the knapsack on to her lap. She unzipped it and tugged out the first of two Glock 19s. Inside the bag were extra magazines and she expertly inserted one into the butt of the gun, racked the slide to arm it, then flicked on the safety. She repeated the process and dropped a gun between Vince’s thighs. He whistled.
‘Easy, babe, you could have shot off my dick.’
‘I’d have to be a better shot than I am to hit that teeny-weeny thing,’ she smiled.
‘Think you could hit a car?’ he asked.
Sonya followed his gaze, watching open-mouthed as a pale blue minivan roared out of a driveway ahead. It was like the vehicles that soccer moms drive, loads of seats in the back to cart around a horde of children. She recognised Don Griffiths in the front passenger seat before the minivan spun away from them.
‘Shee-it,’ Vince yelled. ‘Looks like Gant’s blown it, big time.’
He pressed the gas pedal, and raced after the minivan. With momentum on his side, he caught up with it in seconds, rear-ending the heavier vehicle. Coloured glass bounced up the windscreen of the Ford as the van’s rear lights shattered, but the van absorbed the collision, then powered away.
Sonya looked left, saw the flames and the smoke around the Reynolds household. ‘Can’t believe they started without us . . .’
‘You know Gant,’ Vince snorted. ‘Never was the patient type.’
‘Do you think he’d want us to stop them?’
Vince raised his eyebrows, puffed out air.
He rammed the pedal to the floor, pushing the Ford on. ‘That’s why we’re here, babe.’
Sonya bounced up and down in her seat in her
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