Operation, Midnight Cowboy

They were going to kill her this time. The first shot blew a hole the size of her thumb through the driver's side window. Rachael Armitage cut the steering wheel hard to the right. The Mustang slid sideways on the rain-slicked road, but she steered into the skid. The instant the tires gripped, she hit the gas. There was at least one vehicle behind her. Maybe two. The men inside were probably armed to the hilt. The driver was good; he knew when to get close and when to back off. But she was better. She only hoped she had the horsepower to prove it. Never taking her eyes from the rearview mirror, she negotiated a sharp curve. The car fishtailed, but she held it steady and maintained control. The headlights behind her disappeared. When the road straightened, Rachael floored the accelerator. But she knew they weren't going to give up. Grabbing her purse, she emptied it onto the seat next to her. For an instant she debated whether to reach for the cell phone or the Beretta .380, but she reached for the phone. Headlights flashed in her rearview mirror as she flipped open the cell. Cursing, she hit the speed dial with her thumb. The vehicle was gaining on her with astounding speed. Coming too fast. Getting too close. One ring. Two. "Come on," she snapped. The vehicle bumped her from behind just as a voice answered. "ID and code, please." "This is Alpha two-four-six. Code red." Rachael glanced to her left to see a big chrome bumper inches from her window. "Damn." "What's your twenty, Alpha?" Knowing the vehicle was going to ram her, Rachael stomped the brake. But she wasn't fast enough. The big SUV swerved, its front quarter panel slamming into the Mustang hard enough to knock the phone from her hand. The car veered sideways. The tires screamed as they lost purchase. She skillfully steered into the skid, but her heart was hammering by the time she regained control. Adrenaline burned hot in her gut. Too damn close, she thought. These guys were good. Professional killers more than likely. They had heavier, faster vehicles. Bigger guns. But then she didn't expect any less from the man whose only mission in life was to see her dead. She should have heeded Cutter's advice and taken the Lear. But then Rachael had never been good at taking advice. Ahead, she could see the yellow glow of Chicago's north suburbs above the tree line. She wasn't familiar with this particular road. Didn't know where to find refuge. Where the hell was a cop when you needed one? The second shot shattered the windshield. The safety glass held, but shards pelted her like sleet. Large-caliber projectile. High velocity. If they shot through the engine she would be dead in the water. Wind roared through the hole in the windshield. Cold night air surrounded her with icy fingers. But it wasn't the cold that had her hands shaking on the wheel. A glance at the speedometer told her she was nearing one hundred miles per hour. A dangerous speed even in the best conditions. Downright reckless on wet pavement on a curvy back road in the dead of night. But then Rachael had always been good at reckless. Every nerve in her body jumped when two sets of headlights loomed behind her. She pressed the accelerator to the floor, but the Mustang's V-8 engine had already given its all. The second vehicle came up beside her. A large SUV. The fender slammed into the driver's side door. Steel screeched and groaned as the vehicles locked. Rachael hit the brake, but it was too late. The Mus-tang careened into the guardrail. Sparks shot high into the air as steel ground against steel. She tried desperately to ease the car back on the road, but the SUV was too heavy. She was going too fast. In a last-ditch effort to keep the car from going through the guardrail and down the embankment, she jerked the wheel hard to the left. The SUV was ready and slammed into her agaCastillo, Linda is the author of 'Operation, Midnight Cowboy ', published 2007 under ISBN 9780373692309 and ISBN 0373692307.