Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 94293 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94293 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Bookem barked angrily against his window, clearly wanting out to take care of the guy. Michaels punched him in his jaw and took a couple body shots of his own as the man tried to yank him out of the truck. Judge grabbed the handle of his door, ready to get out and help. “No! Go!” Michaels yelled. Another punch, this time to the man’s temple, sent him backwards, and Judge floored it.
They cleared the parking lot and Judge flew out into the main road, almost clipping a light pole in the median. Thank goodness there wasn’t much traffic at almost five a.m. Michaels stuffed their bags behind them and took his gun out of his waistband. He looked in the large side-view mirror, and sure enough there was a dark SUV barreling up the street toward them. “Punch it.”
Judge checked his own mirror and swore under his breath, stepping on the gas. If they could just get to the interstate, they’d be good. Too many state troopers on the Florida Turnpike to do a high-speed chase. Shots firing and hitting the back of the cab had Judge spinning off onto a side street. Switch was cursing and yelling for them to let him out. Michaels leaned over the seat and yanked Judge’s bulletproof vest out of his bag, draping it over Bookem and urging the anxious dog to lie down as more shots hit the back window. “Fuck.” Michaels ducked.
“The windows are bulletproof.” Judge informed him, but he still looked agitated.
The windows may have been bulletproof, but the entire vehicle wasn’t. The guys who chased them could blow out the tires, or depending on the weapons, a bullet could pierce the exterior. The whole mess was such bullshit. They didn’t have the drugs anymore, but the dumb fucks didn’t know that. He wished he had a bullhorn so he could yell it at them.
Judge’s big truck hit the potholes and dips in the road like a school bus. Michaels was bouncing high enough to almost hit his head on the roof. He held the “oh shit” bar as Judge flew through the back streets and took a hard left back onto the main road. The interstate was just up ahead. Looking in the side mirror again, he saw the big vehicle was right on their ass and getting closer. Fuck.
Michaels readied his weapon and rolled the window down on his side, prepared to take aim.
“No! Put the window back up!” Judge yelled.
“Keep driving!” Michaels was taking the assholes out. If they got a good shot at either side of the truck, a bullet could go through the door and hit him or Judge. Pointing his weapon out the window, aimed behind them, Michaels used the side-view mirror to guide him. His focus was on the vehicle’s tires. He fired twice, hitting the hood and the front grill. Judge was all over the place, as he had to aggressively dodge a couple vehicles on the road. Shots were fired back at him and he quickly ducked back inside. Shit.
“What the fuck is going on? Y’all gone get me killed, man!” Switch yelled. It sounded like he was kicking the siding and frankly it was pissing Michaels off.
“Shut up or I’ll drop the back down and let them have you,” Michaels yelled. He checked the side mirror again.
“Stay inside!” Judge barked at him. He was seething; his tone on the edge of panic, sounding like he’d passed furious a couple streets back.
“Concentrate on driving,” Michaels shouted back. He was doing his job. Why the fuck was Judge trying to stop him? Cowering inside the vehicle like a pussy was not what Michaels was used to. Hell, it was frowned upon for those who worked for God. Michaels checked the mirror again. They were still on them. Okay, playtime was over. He put his entire arm out the window and aimed again. He waited, calculated the way Judge was moving, and timed the swerves of the SUV behind them. He took a deep breath and held it. Squeezing the trigger, he hit the front tire twice. The SUV dropped down, lopsided; the tread spinning off the tire and flying all over the place. Three more shots in rapid succession into the grill, enough to completely disable the SUV. The thugs fired a couple more shots, hitting the rear of the truck, and then one final shot came; impacting the side mirror Michaels was using to watch behind Judge’s truck; shattering it explosively and sending large chunks of glass into his face.
Michaels dropped his gun at his feet, hollering out in pain. He was catapulted back against the seat, holding his hand over the right side of his face. Judge yelled his name, almost losing control of the vehicle.
“I’m alright! Go!” Michaels yelled, fearfully. His face felt like it was on fire. He could feel the blood dripping down and over his hand, but he kept it clutched against his face. He had no clue what type of damage the glass shards had done. Since his hand was still cupped over his eye, he didn’t know if there was glass in it or if it had been cut. The pain was too severe to assess the exact nature of his injuries at that point. Adrenaline was coursing through him, making it impossible for him to fully grasp how much damage there was.