“You bitch!” Hakimi shouted again.
“Is that all you got?” Annie said, before slamming her first into his nose. Cartilage cracked and blood sprayed. He tried to block her next punch, but he was losing strength, and his efforts barely affected her blow. She felt even more cartilage crack. Hakimi grunted in pain.
“Annie, you need to get that truck stopped,” Brice reminded her.
Her hand covered in blood, Annie grabbed the steering wheel and yanked hard to the right. The truck veered across the lanes of traffic and slammed into the wall of the tunnel. Broken tiles sprayed out and metal groaned as the truck dragged along the wall. She kicked Hakimi’s foot off the pedal and forced hers onto the brake.
Hakimi slapped at her hands ineffectively. The blood loss from the leg wound and the repeated blows to the head were having an effect. Using her body weight, she kept him pinned against the door. She couldn’t afford to let up. Not now.
The truck rumbled to a stop, the cab and trailer jackknifing across the road.
Annie reached over Hakimi and yanked the door handle. It swung open, and Hakimi spilled out of the cab. Annie caught herself just before she fell after him, then bent over to grab the pistol from the floor.
“You have stopped nothing!” Hakimi shouted, rolling onto his back. He crawled away from the truck, reaching into his jacket.
“No!” Annie shouted, fingers wrapping around the grip.
She couldn’t see what his hand was doing inside his jacket, but the look on his face made it clear.
He was preparing to detonate the bomb.
Annie brought the pistol up and fired three times. The shots echoed loudly in the tunnel.
Hakimi’s body jerked, and he fell back on the pavement. His hand came out of his jacket and his arm splayed onto the asphalt. An electronic device fell out of his palm.
“Annie?” Brice said.
Annie struggled to control her breathing. She kept the pistol trained on Hakimi and climbed down from the cab. “I’m okay.”
“You need to get out of there! I have no idea what the delay circuit is set for.”
“Shit.”
Annie turned and bolted.
Twenty meters ahead, a car had stopped, and the driver had gotten out to watch what was going on, a horrified expression on her face.
“Go!” Annie shouted, waving both arms.
The woman shook her head, confused. “I don’t—”
“Get the hell in your car!” Annie shoved her inside, pushing her violently right across the center console to the passenger side, and followed her in, sliding in behind the wheel.
The woman screamed as Annie put the car in drive and slammed on the gas. The sudden acceleration threw them both back against their seats.
“Count to twenty!” Annie yelled.
“What the hell?” the woman cried, trying to push herself upright. “Please, take the car, I don’t have any money. I have a kid!”
Annie white-knuckled the steering wheel as they sped for the tunnel’s exit. “I’m not stealing your car, lady! I’m trying to save your life! Count to twenty!”
Daylight spilled in from the tunnel’s entrance fifty meters ahead. Annie had no idea how much time they had, but it probably wasn’t much.
“One, two, three…” the woman started.
“Marty,” Annie said. “What’s the minimum safe distance for that thing?”
The woman stopped counting, frowning at Annie.
“It’s hard to say. At least five hundred feet, on open ground. But in the tunnel? The confined shockwaves will intensify the blast.”
Annie shielded her eyes as they shot out from the tunnel and into the bright light of day. She swerved for the shoulder.
The woman turned and looked back over her seat. “Are we going to—”
“No!” Annie was already reaching for the woman’s head when she saw the flash of the detonation in the rearview. She barely had time to scream before the blast wave hit, shattering the car’s windows, spraying her with tiny shards of glass, and lifting the car right off the road.
Annie felt herself become weightless, then everything went black.
Chapter Forty-Five
The pickup’s over-sized tires squealed as Duncan drove them onto the main road, turning north out of the complex. I-218 weaved its way through tree-covered hills, and Connor could barely see the buildings along the right side of the road. The traffic was light, for which he was thankful.
He angled the machine gun forward and fired. His rounds chewed through the pavement just to the left of the white pickup ahead of them. The two men in the bed dropped behind the tailgate before appearing again to return fire. Duncan swerved left, crossing the center lane, as the windshield and hood erupted. Connor shifted his footing, keeping his balance behind the machine gun, adjusted his aim, and fired again.
His eyes stung from the wind and swirling smoke expelled by the machine gun, hindering his vision slightly, but he saw the man on the right jerk back and tumble over the side of the bed. His companion once more dropped behind the tailgate, then held up his gun and fired back without looking.
“Left lane!” Connor shouted, kicking the back of the cab. “Get in the left lane! As far as you can!”
Duncan moved the truck over, giving Connor a clear shot of the enemy’s back tire. His rounds ripped through rubber and steel. The tire exploded, and the truck was thrown up onto its passenger-side tires; the driver must have tried to correct. The truck dropped back down on all four tires, turned perpendicular to the road as it went airborne, spinning, then rolled to a stop on its roof.
“Go!” Connor shouted when he realized Duncan was letting off the gas. “Your friends behind us can take care of that! Get the lead truck! Go!”
The engine roared again, the burst of acceleration forcing Connor back a step. He checked over his shoulder, ensuring that the officers behind him were indeed stopping
