Chapter 14 - The Ambush at the Gorge
Through the tinted glass of the pursuing truck, Adrian caught a brief glimpse of the driver—a burly man with a shaved head, heavy combat boots, and a tactical vest. Cousin Derek. Victoria had pulled her final, desperate card.
""Brace yourself, Clara!"" Adrian shouted. Derek swung the massive steering wheel to the right, slamming his heavy steel bumper into the SUV’s front fender. The impact sent sparks flying across the hood like fireworks, shoving Adrian’s vehicle within inches of the crumbling road shoulder. Below lay a hundred-foot drop into the raging waters of the gorge.
Clara clutched her stomach, sobbing, but she kept her head down against the seat cushions as Adrian had trained her.
Adrian didn't panic. He remembered his convoy survival training in the desert: Never let the hostile vehicle control the pivot point.
Instead of slamming on the brakes—which would have caused them to spin out over the cliff—Adrian tapped the accelerator, deliberately steering slightly into the impact. He matched Derek’s speed for two seconds, then yanked the emergency brake while cutting the wheel hard to the left behind Derek’s rear axle.
The tactical maneuver caught Derek completely off guard. His heavy truck, carrying too much forward momentum, glanced off the rear quarter of Adrian’s SUV and spun violently out of control. The tires shrieked against the wet pavement as the pickup skidded sideways, smashing head-on into the solid granite face of the cliff wall.
The truck’s radiator exploded in a cloud of white steam, the front end crushed like an accordion.
Adrian brought his SUV to a safe halt fifty yards ahead. Breathing hard, he checked Clara first. ""Are you hurt? Did anything hit you?""
""I'm okay... we're okay,"" Clara cried, tears streaming down her face as she felt the baby kick inside her womb. ""Adrian, look!""
Behind them, Derek crawled out of the shattered driver-side window, groaning, his face covered in blood. He pulled a semi-automatic pistol from his waistband, his eyes wild with murderous intent.
Before Derek could raise the weapon, a thunderous crack split the night. Two unmarked black sedans screeched to a halt around the bend, their high-intensity searchlights pinning Derek to the rock wall. Four state troopers and Master Sergeant Marcus Vance stepped out, rifles drawn and leveled.
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""Drop the weapon! Face down on the asphalt!"" Marcus barked through a megaphone.
Derek froze, looked at the line of rifles, and let the pistol slip from his numb fingers onto the road.
