Chapter 8 - The Crossroads at Mile 42
The vehicles behind them were not police cruisers; there were no flashing red and blue strobes, only the blinding white glare of reinforced SUV grilles.
"Hold on," Ward barked, shifting gears as the engine roared. "He tracked my license plate. He must have an alert on private database queries."
Elena spun around to check on Leo. The little boy had woken up, his eyes round with fear as the bright beams flooded the back seat. "Elena? Is Daddy coming?"
"Stay down on the floor, Leo! Cover your head with the blanket!" Elena shouted, her maternal instincts overriding the panic threatening to paralyze her.
The trailing black SUV lunged forward, slamming into the rear bumper of Ward's vehicle. The impact sent a violent jolt through the chassis, the tires screeching against the wet pavement as Ward fought the wheel to prevent a spinout.
"He doesn't want to kill us," Ward grunted, his foot heavy on the throttle. "He wants the drive, and he wants you back under his thumb before morning. If we crash, his private security will claim it was a rescue from a kidnapping."
Ahead, the highway split: one route continued along the exposed coastal bluffs toward the interstate; the other plunged down toward an old, decommissioned naval shipyard.
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"Hold tight!" Ward swung the wheel hard to the right, skidding across the median into the gravel access road leading into the shipyard. The pursuing SUV overshot the turn slightly before swerving violently to follow.
The industrial gates loomed ahead, rusted and half-open. Ward plowed through the barrier, chains snapping with a high metallic screech as they entered a maze of towering shipping containers and abandoned warehouses.
