Chapter 13 - Pursuit in the Dark
The two black SUVs closed the distance with terrifying speed. Eleanor’s high-end corporate vehicles were built for power and speed, easily outmatching the heavy, thirty-year-old pickup truck on the winding mountain curves.
""They’re gaining on us, Ryan!"" Clara shouted, bracing herself as the truck swerved through a deep pool of standing water, throwing massive sheets of spray into the darkness.
""Hold onto him!"" Ryan yelled.
The front SUV rammed the back of the pickup with a jarring crash of crumpling chrome. The impact slammed Ryan against the steering wheel, his seatbelt cutting into his wounded shoulder. Pain flared through his chest, making his vision blur for a terrifying second.
The second SUV pulled up alongside the driver's side, matching their speed at seventy miles an hour along the sheer mountain cliff. The tinted window slid down, revealing a masked driver and a passenger leveling a spike-strip launcher at their front tire.
Ryan didn't wait for them to fire. He slammed the brakes with all his might.
The old pickup skidded violently, tires screeching in protest as smoke poured from the locked brakes. The SUV beside them, caught off guard by the sudden deceleration, shot forward twenty yards ahead. Ryan instantly wrenched the steering wheel to the right, angling the heavy steel bumper of the truck directly into the rear quarter-panel of the passing vehicle.
The PIT maneuver was brutal and precise. The heavy SUV spun out of control, its tires losing traction on the rain-slicked asphalt, sliding sideways before rolling violently twice into the rocky embankment, exploding into a shower of shattered glass and sparks.
""One down!"" Ryan shouted, stomping the accelerator again.
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But the first SUV was already reversing, spinning around in the middle of the road to block the narrow bridge ahead. The road here narrowed to a single lane over a hundred-foot canyon known as Devil's Drop. Standing in the middle of the bridge, illuminated by the halogen beams, was Eleanor Sterling herself, holding an umbrella, surrounded by three armed men.
She was not going to let them cross.
