Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 127201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
He’d only ridden one a handful of times and had no license for it, but with deep potholes turning the road into an obstacle course, the Caiman vehicles couldn’t escape him so easily. So he steadied his left hand on the handlebar, imagining his flesh as steel, and rested his gun hand on the other. He maneuvered between gashes in the road, which would have sent him flying if he wasn’t careful. Nero was in mortal danger, and Miguel would sooner break his neck than see him taken.
The Land Rovers moved at a languid pace at first, but the goons in the second car, which was stuck between Miguel and the vehicle carrying Nero, must have realized he was out to get them, because one of them looked out, sending two bullets Miguel’s way.
He couldn’t risk Nero’s life by shooting through the tinted windows of Cano’s vehicle, but these fuckers? He'd have turned them into Swiss cheese already if he had enough bullets to spare.
The sun peeking through tree crowns shone straight into his eyes, which made this dangerous game even more difficult, but eventually, Miguel pulled the trigger, aiming at the back of the car.
The left tire burst just as the driver turned to avoid one of the craters opening under its wheels as if this were a video game. The sudden change of direction made them careen up the steep slope running parallel to the road. Miguel held his breath as the Land Rover toppled like a turtle thrown on its back and rolled off the bank, straight into the river. It sprayed water at Miguel, who stopped in time to avoid being mowed down by its metal body.
But there was no time to stay behind and watch the rats scramble out of the sinking car. This wasn’t about his satisfaction, and he’d already let those bastards stall him for too long. To make matters worse, he had to restart the motorbike twice and lost precious seconds of pursuit.
As soon as the Yamaha buzzed under him again, he felt like an angry hornet that would not give up on the chase until it stung every single Caiman.
When he sped up, the sunshine peering in through the tree crowns above turned the already dangerous road into a deadly version of hopscotch, confusing his eyes as he slalomed between uneven bits of asphalt, cracks, and the shadows, which on such a bright day resembled potholes way too much.
Sweat beaded over his lip when Cano’s vehicle disappeared behind the bend of the road. In the safety of the car, it’s driver didn’t need to be as cautious of the treacherous terrain, but Miguel’s life would be worth nothing if he broke his promise and left Nero to torture and death. The integrity of his bones would not matter once he was done with his task and rotting in a shallow grave somewhere.
Three Caimans sat in the car, Cano included, but being a smaller, more agile target, Miguel hoped to evade their bullets. His heart was pumping faster with each inch he gained on the Land Rover and each projectile swishing through the air, but once he caught up to the vehicle, he chose the driver as his target. Nero might end up bruised from the inevitable crash, but if Miguel cut the metal beast’s head, he’d no longer have to chase it.
The vehicle jolted in his direction, forcing Miguel to move dangerously close to the water, but trees growing at the shore made the driver go back onto the asphalt to avoid them.
All the hairs on Miguel’s nape stood when the back window rolled down. If the guy who'd chloroformed Nero had a gun, he was fucked. Cano’s voice was distorted by the noise in his pounding head, but faced with the threat of doom, Miguel aimed at the driver.
The bastard’s eyes were wide open, and he leaned forward in a desperate attempt to see the road better, revealing Cano in the passenger seat. The man’s gaze was sharp as razors. He raised his pistol as a large, dark object loomed ever closer in the corner of Miguel’s eye. A lesser man would have fallen back to avoid collision, but if those guys managed to reach a decent road, Miguel would never see Nero again.
He zeroed in on the driver despite struggling to keep his gun arm from shaking on this fucking motorcycle.
“Duck!” Cano yelled and pointed his own firearm Miguel’s way.
The driver lowered his head, but then two hands covered by familiar tattoos shot from the rear seat and grabbed Cano’s neck, pulling him back just as he took the shot. The sudden jerk of his arm sent the bullet straight into the driver’s chest instead of Miguel’s head.
Hot air locked Miguel’s throat when the vehicle rapidly changed direction. He hit the brakes to avoid colliding with the beast of black steel, and as the Land Rover rolled past him, he saw a goon assault Nero with the white cloth again. Miguel lost sight of him when Nero rolled to the floor.