“Good enough for me,” said Harrison with a nod. “Now, Catherine. I hate to embody such a terrible cliché, but we can do this the easy way or the hard way. Turn yourself into the authorities. I’m sure you can work out a deal with the courts and weasel your way out of excessive jail time. You are, after all, quite accomplished in that respect.”
“Go to hell, Harrison.”
“The hard way it is,” he replied. “Perhaps you haven’t noticed, but there are two trained officers in the room with guns pointed at your head. I suggest you go with them quietly.”
Without warning, a gun fired. I clasped my hands to my ears as the bang echoed off the concrete walls, but when I looked up, I discovered it wasn’t Wes or Henry who had pulled the trigger. It was Logan Wickes who had drawn a handgun from the waistband of his slacks, aimed for Harrison’s kneecap, and fired. In the resulting chaos, as Harrison dropped to the floor and Natasha let out a horrified scream, Wickes took Flynn by the hand and dragged her between a stack of empty cardboard boxes, disappearing from view. I vaulted over a stray folding chair, barreling through another door on the opposite side of the basement that opened to a set of outdoor steps. I took them two at a time, but when I reached the street, the Raptors’ familiar black SUV had already peeled out of the church’s side lot, taking Flynn along with it.
“Shit!” I skidded to a stop to catch my breath.
Henry approached me from behind, taking my arm. He and Wes had followed me up from the basement. Olivia and Lauren quickly joined us.
“Come on,” said Henry, jogging around to the front of the church where Harrison’s car was parked. “If we want to catch them, we’ll have to be quick.”
“What about Harrison?” I asked.
“Natasha’s with him. She called 911.”
As Wes and I piled into Harrison’s crossover and Henry took the driver’s seat, Olivia patted the window. I rolled it down.
“My guess is Flynn’s heading for the airport,” she said. “She’s panicking. I can tell. And she always had a contingency plan in case something like this happened.”
“Private jet on call,” added Lauren.
“Let’s move then,” ordered Henry.
“Right behind you,” said Olivia.
She stepped away from the car, hugging Lauren close to her. As Henry pulled away from the curb, I watched Olivia and Lauren hop into a shiny blue BMW to follow behind us. Henry accelerated, heading for the highway. We had already lost the Raptors’ SUV, but traffic near Waverly was relatively light as we followed signs for the airport.
“There!” I called, pointing ahead as we merged on to the larger road. It was easy to spot the black SUV. It careened from lane to lane like a drunken sailor, cutting off other cars in order to get ahead.
Henry stomped on the accelerator, zooming past an elderly lady in an Oldsmobile before cutting in front of a slow semi-truck. But when we had nearly closed the gap between us and the Raptors, Henry let off the gas.
“What are you doing?” I demanded, watching as the SUV swerved into the right lane. “We’re going to lose them!”
“He wants them to think so,” said Wes. “That way, they won’t lead us into a trap.”
Henry’s eyes narrowed, discreetly guiding the car into the right lane several vehicles behind the Raptors. I checked behind us. Olivia’s blue BMW was a car length away. Lauren gave me a thumbs-up through the windshield.
In the passenger seat, Wes craned his neck to get a look around a tall delivery truck in front of us. “They’re getting off at the airport exit.”
Henry followed Wes’s directions, making sure to keep a safe distance, but when the SUV turned off the main road and onto a private one, it became more difficult to go unnoticed. Suddenly, three more black SUVs merged onto the same road, boxing us in.
“Shit,” muttered Henry. “This is not good.”
The SUV on our left moved in close. The back window rolled down, and a Raptor aimed a gun at Henry.
“Hit the gas, Henry!” I ordered.
We lurched forward just in time. The first bullet shattered the driver’s side window but missed Henry. The second and third bullets took out the back passenger window. I ducked below the line of fire, mindlessly yelling obscenities. In the front seat, Henry steered with one hand and fired blindly through his demolished window with the others, and Wes had taken off his seatbelt to address the second SUV on our right side.
“There’s another one behind us,” I called up to the front seat, peeking out the rear windshield. Suddenly, the SUV at our six o’clock blew out a tire, veering off of the road and into a run-off ditch. Its absence revealed the blue BMW catching up to our unfortunate party. Olivia’s left hand rested on the side view mirror, aiming a gun at the vehicle still trying to put Henry out of commission. She fired twice.
The second SUV lurched away from our car, taken out by Olivia’s handgun. Olivia sped up, covering our left side, but the last of the Raptors’ attack squad fell back. They withdrew their guns, rolled up their windows, and rode our bumper as we tailed Flynn’s vehicle. We tore through a side street, jumping a couple curbs to catch up with the first SUV, before careening around a corner and into a wide open flightline, at the end of which a small private plane waited to be boarded. Wes boosted himself out of the window, aimed his Glock, and taking a cue from Olivia, shot out the back tires of Flynn’s SUV. It skidded off course, slowing as the ruined tires screeched against the pavement. Before the vehicle stopped, Flynn kicked open the passenger door, leapt out, and sprinted toward the private jet. Wickes and Brooks flanked her either side, firing random shots at us over their shoulders. Then
