“No idea, man.”
“Don’t fucking lie to me, Aleksy.”
“You think I’d do something to put my sister’s life in danger?”
I hold in the urge to tell him he already did when he told her to kill me.
But I’m saving that for when we’re face-to-face.
“We need to talk,” I tell him.
“About what?”
“Business.”
“In case you forgot, I have a fucking bowling alley problem!” he screams.
“Great.” I shift the car into Reverse. “I’ll meet you at the pile of ashes. Have some fucking nachos ready for me.” I end the call and leave the casino’s back parking lot.
“Man, you should’ve at least told him two nachos,” Antonio comments, rolling down his window for fresh air.
We’reten minutes into the drive to the bowling alley when Antonio says, “We have company. A black SUV has been tailing us since we took our first right after the casino.”
I peer into the rearview mirror.
Fuck.
Sure enough, there’s a black SUV.
The windows are tinted so dark that I can’t make out the driver.
I cut the wheel, and the tires squeal as I make a sharp right.
The SUV does the same thing.
Adrenaline storms through my blood as I slam my foot on the pedal. We launch forward, and I pick up speed as we weave through cars.
Horns blare.
I run a red.
The SUV stays on our ass the entire time.
Antonio turns, shoving off the seat, and grabs the AK-47 from the back seat floorboard. He undoes the safety and shoves the barrel toward the rear window.
My hand grips the steering wheel tight as I make another turn, nearly clipping a car and bouncing over a curb. Sweat builds along my hairline as sirens fire off behind us, but I don’t slow my speed.
I can’t, and I won’t.
Not until we lose these fuckers or kill them.
The SUV’s driver is trained.
This isn’t their first fucking rodeo.
“I’m going to take out the driver,” Antonio says. “Stupid son of a bitch.”
Antonio grunts when I swerve to the right, barely missing a jaywalker. Leaning forward, he teases the trigger with his pointer finger, waiting for the right moment.
