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Mac huffed. “I said Sigs weren’t my preferred weapon, not that I can’t use one.”
“Good, because I’m not sure it would be wise to stop and change… shit.”
Foster dodged his vehicle to the left when a white truck barreled around the corner, crossing over the white line and flashing on their headlights in what was likely an attempt to blind him. But he was already sliding across the slick grass, fishtailing back onto the road a moment before he would have clipped a tree. What would have either stopped them dead or rolled them over.
Mac was tracking the truck as it spun around behind them, those headlights reflecting off his mirrors. Foster hit the gas, taking the next curve faster than he should, keeping the truck on the road by letting the back end skid around the corner.
Unbuckling, Mac opened her window and leaned out, aiming down the road. “Hold it steady, and I’ll see if I can hit something important.”
“We’ve only got a few seconds of straight road.”
She didn’t even flinch, nearly falling out when he had to swerve out of the way of another oncoming car. He grabbed her sweatshirt, holding her secure as she fired off a round the moment the other car was gone.
The truck veered one way, bouncing along the rough shoulder before finally steering back onto the road.
Foster glanced at his mirrors, still holding Mac’s sweatshirt. “Do you have a death wish? You nearly fell.”
“I knew you’d grab me.”
“That makes one of us.” He skidded around another corner, getting way too close to the edge. “Did you hit anything important?”
“Left tire, but the bastard must have run flats. I can try and land a few in the grill?—”
“Or you can get your ass back in the seat, and we can try another approach.” He pointed to a spot on the nav screen. “There’s an old two track around here. We can veer off and try to put enough distance between us I can spin this baby, and we can deal with this issue head on.”
“You want to play chicken with this asshole on a deactivated dirt road?”
“Whatever it takes so I can have a chat with our friend. Though, if you’ve got any better ideas…”
She grunted then buckled up, his Sig still at the ready. Foster followed the pavement, going as fast as possible without tipping them over when the old track appeared on his left side. He didn’t even slow, just took the gravel road going insanely fast. The suspension creaked and groaned as the truck bucked along the path, tossing everything not belted down scattering across the interior.
Mac didn’t complain, focusing on the rear. She tapped him as they went around a bend. “He just reached the gravel, but it looked as if that tire I clipped wasn’t playing as nice on the dirt. That might be our advantage.”
“Then, let’s see how far we can push it.”
Foster slowed enough to pop the transmission into four-wheel drive, eating up the mud as he followed the overgrown trail. Stones flew out the side, some pinging off the undercarriage as he kept the speed up, taking the corners fast and tight.
He was starting to wonder if they’d run out of useable road when Mac tapped his thigh.
“He’s gone, Foster.”
That’s all Foster needed to spin his truck and turn off the headlights, leaving them sitting there in utter darkness. The overcast sky blocking any hint of star shine.
Mac remained vigilant beside him — gun at the ready as the road brightened a moment before the truck bumped around the corner. Foster punched the gas, then hit the lights, setting off the white Toyota in sharp relief as he quickly ate up the distance between them.
He didn’t know if Striker was driving, but the figure veered off the path, careening down a small incline before bouncing to a stop, the tires spinning against the mud. Foster hit the brakes with every intention of racing down the hill before Voss could react — hopefully ending everything right there — when an SUV bounced around the corner. What looked like the same shaped headlights he’d originally noticed behind him.
Someone leaned out the window, an assault rifle aimed their way. Foster hit the gas, narrowly missing the SUV when it sped past, a barrage of bullets striking his truck. He reached for Mac and shoved her head below the dash, somehow keeping the truck racing along the track without hitting a tree or getting stuck in the mud on the side. Those lights appeared behind him, but they faded a few moments later, nothing but dark forest staring back at him.
He waited until he’d reached the paved road and fishtailed onto it before easing up on Mac. She arched a brow once she could look at him.
He sighed. “I didn’t want you to get hit.”
“And I’m touched, but it would have been hard to counter whoever fired at us when I can’t see to shoot.”
“You not getting shot is a hell of a lot more important than throwing a few bullets their way.” He glanced in his rearview, still heading toward home. “I could call Kash and we could go on the offensive.”
Mac scoffed. “Call me crazy, but I doubt even your rifle is a match to that AR-15. Now, if I had my chopper…”