J.R. Ward - The Shadows

Roger that, big guy.

Trez went rigid as they approached the lip of the set of stairs, and then—

Zero gravity, or as close as you could get to it without doing a U-ie at thirty thousand feet, happened as they soared, the ride getting super-smooth and relatively quiet, nothing but the throaty engine hitting the ear.

All that changed as they skipped over the sidewalk and landed on the paved road. The suspension absorbed as much of the impact as it could, but sparks flew out behind as some portion of the undercarriage got a dental file.

“Please forgive me,” Fritz said, looking up in the rearview.

“The terrain is hardly your fault,” Trez hollered back. “But not sure about all that glass.”

He glanced over to make sure Selena was still whoopin’ it up across the way. Yup. She was smiling and laughing, eyes bright as Christmas lights.

When Trez glanced up front again, the butler was still looking into the rearview mirror and talking to him. “Sire, I’m terribly sorry, but I must needs return home—”

“Fritz! Focus on the road, buddy!”

“Oh, yes, sire—”

Screeeeeeeeeeech as the butler course-corrected and narrowly avoided weed-whacking a lineup of parallel-parked cars.

“As I was saying, sire, I must needs return home,” the butler continued without losing a beat. “Last Meal preparations have to be supervised.”

Like this was just a video game you could put on pause? “Ah, Fritz—”

All at once the Mercedes went black inside and out, the lights extinguished. And at that very moment, from high up in the sky, a blaring light pierced down to the road, flashing over them for a split second.

“Helicopter,” Trez muttered. “Fantastic.”

Twisting around, he checked out the rear window. Blue and white flashing lights were speeding along, but the cops were cutting across their path instead of following—which would give them a pass for only a block or two before the CPD pulled a recalibration of their own.

Shit, how were they going to get out of this?

Before he knew it, Fritz had them down by the river, but not on a road. Instead of taking one of the legal routes, he popped yet another curb and began to fly directly under the raised highway. Pylons the size of redwoods passed by the windows, the doggen playing dodge-’em car, jogging left and right like a runner in an obstacle course.

No one was behind them, but they could hardly keep this up indefinitely. The Northway, which was what was overhead, was going to rejoin the earth—

Sure enough, the descent from up above started to happen, and at such a velocity, Trez became convinced they were going to mash-potato themselves into the coming horizontal asphalt merger.

Except, no. Fritz jerked out from underneath, riding a ridge of pavement around to the roads that ran parallel to the Hudson. Somehow, he managed to get them in between a break in the guardrails and then, justlikethat, they were on an exit ramp that would take them onto the highway in the right direction.

Heading away from town.

Trez waited for a lineup of CPD units with their lights going all Fourth of July to fall in behind them.

Instead, he saw a fleet of those boys in blue tearing it up on the other side of the Northway, heading to the site of all the fun and games.

Fritz slowed down and put his lights back on. Pulled into the stream of traffic. Floated away at a modest seventy miles an hour.

“How the hell did you do that?” Trez said with H2G respect.

“Humans are rather easy to lose. They tend to track lights, rather like cats with a laser pointer. Without the illumination? It gives one a serious advantage—well, that and possessing twice their horsepower.”

Trez turned to his queen. “You okay—”

Selena reached over and pulled his mouth in for a kiss. And another. “What a night! That was the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me!”

Adrenaline quickly transferred into lust as he kissed her back and pressed her into her seat. Licking his way into her mouth, he found one of her breasts with his hand.

“Should I tell him to gas it again?” Trez growled against her mouth. “’Cuz I don’t think I can wait. . . .”

“We’ll be home soon,” she murmured, smiling. “And I like anticipation. I’ve been hungry for you since the ride in.”

Trez groaned deep in his throat as he reached for the button to raise the partition. “Fritz?”

“Yes, master?”

“A little faster, if you don’t mind.”

“My pleasure, sire!”

THIRTY-SEVEN

Shortly after Xcor and Balthazar made yet another running turn in the maze of alleys, Xcor was hit by something so big and so hard, he was totally stunned as he went airborne, the world spinning whilst he stayed steady—or, more likely, he was the one going ’round about.

In mid-air, he braced for a nasty impact—but for some absolutely stupid reason, he landed on his combat boots. It was a hole-in-one kind of thing—and not a blessing that would last, given his momentum. To keep from falling to the ground, he sprang forward, trying to continue his run.

Something was very wrong. His legs weren’t working right a’tall.

Scrambling to stay upright, he was dimly aware of Balthazar shouting his name, and then suddenly, his soldier was right beside him, grabbing onto his arm and dragging him forth.

In the back of his mind, he sensed a presence departing the enormous vehicle in the manner of a vampire. And then the sound of the bullet impacts changed. High-pitched pings replaced the lower-register noises of lead burrowing into brick, asphalt, stone.

The lessers had come across that RV.

Which meant he and Balthazar had a second or two of greater coverage, and Balthazar took advantage of it. With a hard yank, Xcor felt his entire body get pulled off-track.

And then a moment later, he was behind some large structure.

No, a second vehicle—or something. Indeed, it was a gigantic square box with some kind of writing on the side.

P . . . O . . . D . . . S . . .

His overactive brain traced the shapes of the red letters, but the pattern they made meant nothing to him. What did register clearly?

They were about to get a clean shot.

He lifted his gun at the same time Balthazar did.

Forcing his lungs to cease their greedy gasping, he waited . . . waited . . . waited. . . .

The shower of bullets grew louder and louder as the shooters proceeded toward them. And so caught up were the slayers in their noisemaking and their pursuit, neither of them bothered to slow down as they came up to the cover that worked so well—and continued forward.

With unspoken agreement, Xcor took the one on the left whilst Balthazar trained in on the right.

Two bullets. Not two thousand.

Two very well-placed forty-millimeter bullets square in the backs pitched both of the shooters forward, face-first into the dirty pavement.

“I have them,” Balthazar barked, switching out his gun for his daggers.

Xcor would have argued, but he was beginning to feel the extent of his wounds.

Bali leaped out, his blades flashing. He hit the closest one first, a great explosion of light turning the alley into noontime. With nary a pause, he rolled off and stabbed the second shooter. Recoiling away during the second illumination, the soldier managed to reholster the daggers and grab both of the AKs before . . .

. . . that massive vehicle, the one that had hit Xcor, came barreling down the alley.

Balthazar ran back for cover, slamming his shoulders into the metal cube, and the two of them stared straight ahead, freezing in place as the thing left the area.

But the fun and games weren’t over quite yet.