Page 50 of Lash

"You are not lying, my friend," Lorenzo says. "Wait, they're trying again, theidiotas."

With an annoyed roll of his head, I prove that the first two shots were not flukes, nailing the shooter before he can get a shot off.

"How can we get our hands on that car?" Solomon asks. "Without broken windows or bloody seats, preferably. This thing isnotgonna get us over the fucking mountains, Ren."

Lorenzo eyes him. "I don't know how I feel about you calling me that—only Sophia ever did." he muses thoughtfully. "I could pull over and try to get the driver to come after us. It is quite risky, though."

Solomon watches the side mirror for a moment. "Alright, let's try it. Gun it, Ren. Like we're trying to outrun him."

"And then brake hard," Lorenzo says, finishing the unspoken part of Solomon's plan.

"I don't like this," Scarlett says. "Someone's gonna get shot."

"Gotta better plan, sweet tits?" Solomon asks, winking at her.

She glares at him. “I hope you enjoy your own hand, Sol, because if you keep calling me sweet tits, you’ll never get to fuck me again.”

Solomon just cackles, monitoring the car in the side mirror. "Okay, Ren. On three, brake and swerve so he misses us. Last thing we need is to get rear-ended.”

"I understand the plan, Sol," Lorenzo snaps. "Scarlett, Lash, be ready. The moment that asshole shows his idiot face, kill him."

I look at Tatiana. "When we stop, get into the footwell."

Looking pale and frightened, she only nods, licking dry lips.

“Ready?" Solomon asks the car at large.

"Ready," Lorenzo answers.

"Ready," Scarlett echoes.

"Ready," I say.

Tatiana doesn't answer, just slides down into the footwell and shrinks herself into the smallest ball possible, hands over her head. I glance down at her and she gives me a shaky smile and a thumbs-up.

"Now!" Sol barks.

Lorenzo slams on the brakes; tires squeal and the car lurches and fishtails, swerves, and then momentum goes haywire as we go into a spin. Tires squeal again—not ours, but our pursuer's. I feel our car tip precariously as we come to a stop, nearly toppling over, and then we come to a rocking stop, facing backward.

Silence.

“Not yet," Lorenzo murmurs.

I can't hear past the slam of my pulse in my ears.

"There—he's getting out," Lorenzo says. "Now! Go! Go!"

I shove open my door and kneel in the opening, aiming through the V of the door and the car body. Scarlett does the same. The BMW driver shoves open his door and scrambles out, leveling an assault rifle at us. He doesn’t even have time to get off a shot though—Scarlett and I light him up, blasting round after round at him. He jerks and twitches as the bullets smash into him, and his shirt spreads red. He staggers, drops his rifle, and then hits his knees, frowning in confusion. Topples forward and plants face first on the road.

I grin down at Tatiana. "Got him, Lovely One. It is safe to sit up now."

“Lash, you're bleeding!" Tatiana says, panicked.

I touch the side of my face.

She dabs at the side of my face, and I make ahuh, weirdexpression when her fingers come away bloody.

"He must have nicked me,” I say. “It is nothing."