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Running from the house, we each head directly for our bikes. As I climb on and kick up the stand, I hear Blaize, “Where’s Hannah?!”
Just as her name leaves his mouth, she repels down from the second story window quickly, running for the van the moment her feet hit the ground. She jumps into the van and we all start our engines. As the door slams shut the van and all of our bikes peel out one by one.
“Zeke, have the crews checked in yet?” I ask, revving my engine and speeding down the back road, heading for the interstate.
“Two houses hit,” he responds, “No Grant. No one made it out alive.
“Okay so that’s three of six. Keep us posted on the other two.”
“Everyone else, we ok?”
“We’re good,” Han’s voice filters through the ear piece. “Zeke’s just trying to keep up with your crazy ass.”
I chuckle as I hit the exit and weave in and out of the nighttime traffic. We have another house to hit, and I’m itching to get my hands on what’s inside.
Chapter thirty-five
Spencer
Zeke jerks the wheel and I fall to the side, slamming my arm against the exposed metal interior of the commercial van we’ve used for our setup.
“Sorry love,” he murmurs as he weaves through traffic, repeatedly glancing up into the rearview mirror, “I think there’s someone on our asses.”
“What?!” my heart thrums loudly and I look to Hannah who's already up on her feet, peering out the back windows.
“Fuck, we are definitely being followed,” she announces.
“Guys, we have a tail,” she starts, “Wait, two. Shit. Zeke’s trying to lose them, I need you all to go around so I can take care of it.”
“Copy,” Travis says as I peer out the window watching his bike speed around the side of us.
“Got it,” Riot replies, coming up on the other side.
“Blow em’ up little killer, I fucking love it,” Arsenal chuckles in the comms, making me smirk.
“Simmer down you fucking animal,” Blaize hisses through the communications devices and I can’t hold back the laugh that ensues.
“Spencer, I need you to hold the chairs back, can you do that for me?” Hannah asks.
“Got it,” I jump to my feet, pulling both chairs back to the far end of the van, squatting down and holding on so they don’t roll anywhere.
A gust of air sucks into the van as Hannah flings the back doors open. Unholstering the semi-automatic she had slung across her back, she crouches down and takes aim. Several shots fire off, and a bullet whizzes by my head, piercing the windshield behind me, scaring me shitless.
“Fuck Hannah!” Zeke yells.
“Sorry, I’m trying to hold em’ off!” she shouts, as she continues firing out of the back of the van.
Crouching lower, I bury myself behind the chairs, sucking in a deep breath.
Several more shots ring through the air, and the sound of screeching tires pierces my ears. A large black SUV slides sideways before flipping over the median into oncoming traffic, and I watch, horrified as several unsuspecting cars slam into it, and the SUV bursts into flames.
“One down,” she shouts.
“Fuck I’m getting hard watching you work,” Arsenal growls into the communications.
“Bruh,” Riot interrupts. “We don’t need to hear about your fucking kinks right now.”
“Pipe down small fry, my woman’s kicking ass right now.”