Kolter doesn’t laugh at my joke and, honestly, fair—I’m not laughing either.
I take a right, and the SUV does as well, but they seem to be done with the chase because they speed up and slam into the back of me. I let out a scream, but I tighten my grip on the wheel and try to drive faster.
“What’s happening?” Kolter shouts.
“They just hit me from behind!”
“They want you to pull over. DO NOT—you hear me? Keep driving.”
I’m about to agree, but they hit me again and again, forcing a whimper out of me.
“I’m so scared,” I choke out.
“I know, baby. I’m coming up. Keep going straight.”
The SUV takes the shoulder then, speeding up before hitting the side of my car, sending me spinning into the middle of the road. All I can do is scream and hold on to the wheel for dear life. The car skids for several feet before I slam into a lamp post.
“Kolter?” I ask in a daze.
He doesn’t respond, though.
I lift my head and look around to get my bearings.
A motorcycle comes peeling towards me, bullets flying past my car and hitting the SUV. They don’t go through the glass, though, just pepper it with indents. Bulletproof glass? Who the heck are these people?
The SUV’s doors open, and its passengers begin shooting at Kolter. He quickly pulls over, dumping his bike and ducking infront of my car as he returns fire. I lower myself in my seat as far as I can while still being able to watch everything that’s happening.
Kolter tosses his gun to the side and begins firing another one as men in black suits emerge from the SUV, one advancing towards Kolter while another comes to the side of my car. Quickly, I look around for anything I can use as a weapon and find a miniature can of hairspray.
As soon as my door is ripped open, I mace the guy with the extra-hold can. He jolts in surprise, dropping his gun and clutching his face. I take that moment to kick him in the balls as hard as I can—because that drops any guy, right? When he tumbles to the ground, I grab my phone then jump out of the car and over him. But I soon realize my mistake. Now I’m out in the open in the middle of a shootout.
To my left, there are two men in suits sprawled on the ground, bullets between their eyes, and one more still standing, with his gun pointed at?—
“Oh shit,” I mutter as the man fires.
Someone throws themselves in front of me, but I don’t piece together it’s Kolter until I see the back of his leather jacket. He shoots a round of his own, dropping the guy and killing him instantly. Then Kolter wavers for a moment before dropping to the ground.
In a panic, I fall to my knees beside him, hauling his shirt up to find that he’s been shot through the chest.
“Oh my God! Oh my God. You’ve been shot! I need to call 911,” I say, scrabbling for my phone.
“No!No!” he says, grabbing me roughly, the pain evident on his face.
“Get me b-back to the club, Peaches. Can you do that?”
“What? You’re shot! You need a hospital! I’m calling them.”
He’s lost his mind. He’s in shock.
Kolter grabs my arm, his grip almost painful as he looks me in the eye.
“We can’t go to the hospital, baby. Get me to the club.”
I frown at him, but after a quick glance around the massacre, I nod and help him stand, so he can start limping towards the car.
Of course, the hairspray and brutal kick to the balls wasn’t going to keep my attacker down for long. He’s on his feet now and charging towards us—but Kolter just casually lifts the gun still in his hand and empties the clip into the man. He stumbles backward in shock before collapsing in the middle of the street.
My eyes are wide with shock as I open the back door of my car and shove Kolter inside. He’s moaning in pain and writhing on his back, attempting to keep pressure on his chest.