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of the car.
    â€œYou okay?”
    â€œNo, I’m
not
okay.”
    â€œGet that seat belt back on.”
    She sat up and rammed the buckle together. “Where
are
they? You crazy idiot, you nearly got me killed.”
    â€œThey’re coming up on our left.”
    There
wasn’t
any highway on their left, only a dividing strip. She looked back, not expecting to see anyone. Her heart skipped a beat. Sure enough, there came a cream-colored car, bouncing and swerving inside the ditch, gaining on them at an alarming rate. A man poked his head out the rear window. He held something black in his hands. She couldn’t be seeing what she
thought
she was seeing. “They’ve got a gun!”
    In grim silence, Mac Phearson inched up behind an old woman in an equally ancient Ford car.
    â€œStep on it! Didn’t you hear me? They’ve got a gun!”
    â€œI can’t step on it! We’re bumper-to-bumper!”
    â€œThen hit the ditch! You did it before. They’re gaining.”
    â€œIt’s too dangerous. I took it at an angle last time. Now I’d have to sidehill. We’d roll.”
    The cream-colored car was within five car lengths. A rapid splat of bullets riddled the back of their car.
    Mac Phearson checked his side mirror. “Hold on.”
    Swerving to the left, he entered the emergency parking lane and floored the gas pedal. Twisting within the confines of her safety belt, she peered out the rear window. “They’re shooting at us! They’re actually
shooting
at us.”
    His only response was a scowl. Mallory saw the pursuing car hit a chuckhole, do a nosedive and send up a spray of dirt. Their car gained several car lengths. Mac Phearson jerked the steering wheel hard to the right and smacked a green Honda vehicle broadside. The terrified driver slammed on his brakes, his tires grabbing pavement and spitting blue-black smoke. Mac Phearson took advantage of the open space and managed to move over two lanes. He swiped at his forehead with his sleeve and blinked trickles of sweat from his eyes. He looked as terrified as Mallory felt. “They’re trying to follow us over.”
    Hardly able to believe her own ears, Mallory heard herself say, “I—I could switch places and drive so you could shoot back.”
    â€œThat’s an
Uzi
, lady, not a popgun.”
    â€œWh-what’s an Uzi?”
    â€œIt puts out about a thousand rounds a minute,
that’s
what.”
    A thousand rounds a minute? Turning, she saw a flash of cream-colored paint in the whizzing traffic. “Who
are
they? Why are they doing this?”
    â€œLucetti’s thugs is my guess. They haven’t gotten close enough for me to get a make on any of them and I’d like to keep it that way.” He punctuated that statement with a screech of tires. “Scoot down.”
    Mallory inched down just far enough to hide, but not so far she couldn’t see as he took the exit. The Volvo rocked on two wheels around a corner. She saw a red light coming up fast and braced herself. She knew without asking that they were going to run it. As they hit the intersection, she opted for oblivion and closed her eyes. When nothing happened, she lifted her lashes.
    He darted a glance her way. “What happened to your cheek?”
    She touched her cheekbone and winced, remembering how she’d hit the edge of the seat. “Just a little bump. I’m fine.” Sliding up in the seat, she glanced through the back window. The cream-colored car was blocked in traffic. “Can we lose them?”
    â€œWe’ve got the advantage.”
    â€œWe do?”
    His mouth quirked slightly at one corner. “It’s called motivation.”
    â€œI see your point.”
    He turned left into a residential area and drove aimlessly for several minutes. Mallory couldn’t take her eyes off the rear window even though she soon became convinced there was no longer a car following