Hold Me

by Anna Zaires

  Another burst of gunfire, and the trees flash by faster, the greenery blurring in my vision. I can hear the drumming of my pulse; it almost drowns out the squeal of tires in the distance.

  “Oh my God!” At my mom’s panicked screech, I grab onto a seat and rise up on my knees to look out the back window.

  The sight that greets me is like something out of a Fast and Furious movie.

  Behind our guards’ seven SUVs, there’s a whole cavalcade of cars. About a dozen are SUVs and vans, but there are also three Hummers with giant guns mounted on their roofs. Men with assault rifles are hanging out of the cars’ windows, exchanging fire with our guards—who are doing the same. As I watch in shock, I see one of the pursuers’ cars gain on the last of our SUVs and smash into its side in an apparent effort to force it off the road. Both cars waver off course, sparks flying where their sides scrape together, and I hear another burst of gunfire, followed by the pursuers’ car careening off the road and flipping over.

  One down, fifteen-plus to go.

  The math is crystal-clear in my mind. Fifteen cars versus eight, counting our limo. The odds are not in our favor. My heart beats wildly as the high-speed battle continues, the cars smashing together amidst a hail of bullets.

  Boom! The deafening sound vibrates through me, rattling every bone in my body. Stunned, I watch the guards’ SUV in the back fly up, exploding in mid-air. Its gas tank must’ve been hit, I think dazedly, and then I hear Julian shouting my name.

  My ears ringing, I turn and see him thrusting something bulky at me. “Put this on!” he roars before throwing two of the same items at my parents.

  Bulletproof vests, I realize in disbelief.

  He just handed us bulletproof vests.

  The thing is heavy, but I manage to get it on, even with the limo swerving all over the place. I can hear my parents frantically instructing one another, and I turn to see Julian already wearing his own vest.

  He’s also holding an AK-47—which he thrusts into my hands before turning to lift a big, unusual-looking weapon out of the stash. I stare at it, puzzled, but then I recognize what it is.

  A handheld grenade launcher. Julian had shown it to me once on the estate.

  Shaking off my shock, I climb up on the seat, cradling the assault rifle with unsteady hands. I have to do my part, no matter how terrifying it may be. But before I can roll down the window and start shooting, Julian pulls me down to the floor again.

  “Stay down,” he roars at me. “Don’t fucking move!”

  I nod, trying to control my rapid breathing. The adrenaline sizzling through me both speeds everything up and slows it down, my perception foggy and sharp at the same time. I can hear my mom sobbing and Rosa and Lucas yelling something at the front, and then I see Julian’s face change as he turns toward the front window.

  “Fuck!” The expletive bursts out of his throat, terrifying me with its vehemence.

  Unable to stay still, I rise up on my knees again . . . and my lungs cease working.

  On the road ahead of us, just a few hundred feet away, is a police blockade—and we’re barreling toward it at race-car speed.

  Chapter 34

  Julian

  The cold, rational part of my mind instantly registers two things: there’s nowhere for us to turn, and the four police cars blocking our way are surrounded by men wearing SWAT gear.

  They were expecting us—which means they’re in Sullivan’s pocket and here to kill us all.

  The thought fills me with terrified rage. I’m not afraid for myself, but the knowledge that Nora may die today, that I may never hold her again—

  No. Fuck, no. Ruthlessly, I push the paralyzing thought aside and quickly assess the situation.

  In less than twenty seconds, we’ll reach the police barricade. I know what Lucas intends: to ram into the two cars that have the widest gap between them. The gap is only two feet wide, but we’re going 120 miles an hour and the car is heavily armored, which means momentum is on our side.

  All we need to do is survive the collision.

  Gripping the grenade launcher in my right hand, I yell at Nora’s parents, “Brace yourselves!” and drop to the floor, surrounding Nora with my body.

  A few seconds later, our limo slams into the police cars with bone-jarring force. I can hear Nora’s parents screaming, feel the inertia of the impact dragging me forward, and I tense every muscle in my body in an effort to stop the slide.

  It works, barely. My left shoulder slams into the side of the seat, but I keep Nora safe underneath me. I have no doubt I’m crushing her with my weight, but it’s better than the alternative. I can hear the metallic ding of bullets hitting the side and windows of the car, and I know they’re firing at us.

  If we were in a regular car, we’d already be riddled with holes.

  As soon as I feel the limo speeding up again, I jump to my feet, noting out of the corner of my eye that Nora’s parents seem to have survived the impact. Tony is cradling his arm with a pained grimace, but Gabriela seems merely dazed.

  I don’t have time to look closer, though. If we’re to have any chance of surviving this, we need to take care of Sullivan’s men, and we need to do it now.

  The grenade launcher is still in my hand, so I press a button on the side of the door to activate the hidden opening in the roof. Then I stand up in the middle of the aisle, my head and shoulders sticking out of the car. Lifting the weapon, I point it at the cars pursuing us—which now include one police cruiser on top of the fifteen Sullivan vehicles.

  No, thirteen Sullivan vehicles, I correct myself after doing a quick count. My men managed to take out two more of them in the last couple of minutes.

  It’s time to even out the odds some more.

  Bullets whizz by my head, but I ignore them as I aim carefully. I only have six shots in this launcher, so I have to make each one count.

  Boom! The first shot goes off with a hard kick. The recoil hits my shoulder, but the grenade finds its target—the police cruiser that’s right on our tail. The car flies up, exploding in the air, and lands on its side, burning. One of the Hummers slams into it, and I watch in grim satisfaction as both cars blow up, causing one of Sullivan’s vans to careen off the road.

  Eleven enemy vehicles left.

  I aim again. This time my target is more ambitious: one of the remaining Hummers farther back. It has a single-shot grenade launcher mounted on its roof; that’s what took out one of our SUVs earlier, and I know they’ll use the weapon again as soon as they reload.

  Boom! Another hard recoil—and to my disgust, I miss. At the last second, the Hummer swerves sharply, ramming into one of our SUVs with brutal force. I watch in helpless rage as my men’s car flips over, rolling off the road.

  We’re now down to five guard SUVs and our limo.

  Pushing aside all traces of emotions, I aim the next shot at a closer van. Boom! This time, I’m spot-on. The vehicle flips, exploding in the process, and the two Sullivan SUVs directly behind it smash into it at full speed.

  Eight enemy vehicles left.

  I point the launcher again, doing my best to compensate for the constant zig-zagging of the limo. I know that Lucas is weaving all over the road in an effort to make us a more difficult target, but that also makes them more difficult targets for me.

  Boom! I take the shot, and another Sullivan SUV explodes, taking out the one behind it in the process.

  Six enemy vehicles left, and I have two more grenades to launch.

  Taking a deep breath, I aim again—and at that moment, both Hummers spit fire. Two of our SUVs fly into the air, rolling off the side of the road.

  Three guard SUVs left.

  Suppressing my fury, I hold the weapon steady and aim at the Hummer that’s gaining on us. One, two . . . boom! The grenade hits its target, and the massive car careens off the road, smoke rising from its hood.

  One Hummer and four enemy SUVs left.

  I have one last grenade.

  Taking a deep bre
ath, I aim, but before I can squeeze the trigger, one of the enemy cars swerves and crashes into another. My men must’ve shot the driver, improving our chances some more. The Sullivan forces are now down to one Hummer and two SUVs.

  Relieved, I take aim again . . . and then I hear it.

  The unmistakable roar of helicopter blades in the distance.

  Looking up, I see a police chopper coming from the west.

  Fuck.

  It’s either more dirty cops, or the US authorities caught wind of this skirmish.

  Either way, it doesn’t bode well for us.

  Chapter 35

  Nora

  As the new sound reaches my ears, my adrenaline levels spike. I didn’t know it was possible to feel like this—numb and acutely alive at the same time. My heart is racing a million miles a minute, and my skin is tingling with prickles of icy fear. However, the panic that gripped me earlier is gone; it disappeared at some point between the second and third explosion.

  Apparently one can get used to anything, even cars blowing up.

  Gripping the weapon Julian gave me, I hold on to the seat with my free hand, unable to look away from the battle taking place outside the car window. The road behind us is like something out of a war zone, with crashed and burning cars littering the empty stretch of narrow highway.

  It’s as if we’re in a video game, except the casualties are real.

  Boom! One press of a controller button, and a car goes flying. Boom! Another car. Boom! Boom! I catch myself mentally directing each grenade, as though I can guide Julian’s aim with my thoughts.

  A game. Just a realistic shooting game with stunning sound effects. If I frame it like that, I can cope. I can pretend there aren’t dozens of burning corpses behind us, both on our side and on theirs. I can tell myself the man I love isn’t standing in the middle of the limo holding a grenade launcher, his head and upper body exposed to the hail of gunfire outside.

  Yes, a game—in which there’s now a helicopter. I can hear it, and when I climb up on the seat and lean closer to the window, I can see it too.

  It’s a police chopper, heading directly for us.

  It should be a relief that the authorities are trying to intercede—except the blockade we just went through didn’t seem like an attempt to restore law and order. I saw the police cruiser pursuing us right alongside Sullivan’s forces; they weren’t trying to arrest all the criminals involved in this deadly chase.

  They were trying to take us out.

  A new wave of terror washes over me, puncturing my false calm. This is not a game. There are people dying all around us, and if it weren’t for the armor on this limo and Lucas’s driving skills, we’d already be dead too. If it were just me, it wouldn’t matter as much. But everyone I love is in this car. If something happens to them—

  No, stop. I feel myself starting to hyperventilate, and I force the thought away. I can’t afford to panic now. Glancing toward the front, I see my parents huddling together on the seat, gripping their seatbelts. They’re so pale, they look almost green. I think they’re both in shock now, since my mom is no longer screaming.

  The limo takes a sharp right turn, nearly throwing me off the seat.

  “I’m going for the hangar!” Lucas yells from the front, and I realize we just turned off the highway onto an even narrower road. The small airport looms directly ahead, beckoning with the promise of salvation. The roar of the helicopter is directly above us now, but if we can get to our plane and take off—

  Boom! My vision goes dark, all sounds fading for a second. Gasping, I clutch at the edge of the seat, desperately trying to hang on as the limo swerves and speeds up even more. As my senses return, I realize that the guards’ SUV directly behind us was hit. There’s now a gaping, smoking hole in its roof. I watch in horrified shock as it careens into another one of our cars, colliding with it with shattering force. Tires squeal, and then both cars are rolling off the road in a tangle of crushed metal.

  The police chopper shot at us, I realize with a jolt of panic. It shot at us and took out two of our cars, leaving only one guard vehicle to protect us.

  Turning, I cast a frantic glance at the front window again. The hangar where our plane is parked is close, so close. Just a few hundred yards, and we’ll be there. Surely we can survive that long—

  Boom! My ears ringing, I twist to see the Hummer behind us go up in flames. Julian must’ve hit it, I realize with relief. There’s just the helicopter and two SUVs pursuing us now, and we still have guards in that last SUV. Another couple of shots like that, and we’ll be safe—

  “Nora!” Powerful arms wrap around my waist, dragging me down to the floor. A furious Julian is kneeling over me, his face like thunder. “I fucking told you to stay down!”

  In a split second, I register two things: he’s uninjured, and his hands are empty.

  The grenade launcher must be out of ammunition.

  Boom! A blast rocks the limo, sending us both flying. I’m vaguely aware that Julian twists around me, protecting me with his body, but I still feel the brutal impact as we slam into the partition. All air leaves my lungs, and the interior of the car spins around me, my vision blurring as something sharp bites at my skin. My head is pounding from the inside, as though my brain is struggling to get out.

  “Nora!” Julian’s voice reaches through the ringing whine in my ears. Dazed, I try to focus in on him. As some of the blurriness clears, I realize we’re on the floor again, with him lying on top of me. His face is covered with blood; it’s trickling down, dripping on me. He’s also saying something, but his words don’t register in my mind.

  All I see is the vicious, deadly red of his blood.

  “You’re hurt.” The terrified croak bears little resemblance to my voice. “Julian, you’re hurt—”

  He grips my jaw, hard, stunning me into silence. “Listen to me,” he grits out. “In exactly a minute, I’m going to need you to run. Do you understand me? Run straight for the fucking plane and don’t stop, no matter what.”

  I stare at him, uncomprehending. Drip. Drip. Drip. The red drops keep coming down. I can feel the wetness on my face, taste the metallic warmth on my lips. His eyes are bright blue amidst all that red, blue and incredibly beautiful . . .

  “Nora!” he roars, shaking me. “Do you understand me?”

  Some of the ringing in my skull abates, and the meaning of his words finally reaches me.

  Run. He wants me to run.

  “What about—” you, I want to say, but he cuts me off.

  “You’ll take your parents, and you will all fucking run.” His voice is sharp enough to cut through steel, his gaze burning into me. “You’ll have the gun with you, but I don’t want you playing hero. Do you understand, Nora?”

  I manage a small nod. “Yes.” Through the pounding in my temples, I realize the car is still going, still driving despite whatever it was that hit us. I can hear the helicopter hovering over us, but we’re alive for now. “Yes, I understand.”

  “Good.” He holds my gaze for a couple of moments longer, and then, as if unable to resist, he lowers his head and takes my mouth in a hard, searing kiss. I taste the salt and metal of his blood, and the unique flavor that is Julian, and I want him to keep kissing me, to make me forget the nightmare we’re in. All too soon, though, his lips move over to my neck, and I feel the warmth of his breath as he whispers in my ear, “Please get yourself and your parents to the plane, baby. Thomas is already there, and he can pilot the plane if need be. Lucas will take care of Rosa. This is our only chance to get out of this alive, so when I tell you to run, you run. I’ll be right behind you, okay?”

  And before I can say anything, he jumps up and pulls me to my knees, handing me the AK-47 that I’d dropped. My head spins from the sudden movement, but I shake off the dizziness, gripping the weapon with all my strength. Everything feels off, my body strangely uncooperative, but I’m able to focus enough to see that the rear window is gone and there’s smoke rising from the b
ack of the car. To my relief, my parents are still strapped into their seats, bleeding and dazed-looking but alive.

  The back window must’ve shattered, sending fragments of glass flying into the car—which explains the blood on them and Julian.

  The limo begins slowing down, and Julian grips my jaw again, bringing my attention back to him. “In ten seconds,” he says harshly, “I’m going to open this door and come out. In that moment, you escape through the other door. Understand, Nora? You jump out and run like hell.”

  I nod, and when he releases me, I turn to my parents. “Take off your seatbelts,” I say hoarsely. “We’re going to make a run for the plane as soon as the car stops.”

  My mom doesn’t react, her face blank with shock, but my dad begins fumbling with the seatbelt buckles. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the hangar coming up, and I frantically begin helping my parents, determined to free them before the car stops.

  I succeed in unbuckling my mom’s seatbelt, but my dad’s seems stuck, and we both desperately tug at it, our hands in each other’s way as the limo barrels through a tall, open gate into a warehouse-like building.

  “Hurry!” Julian shouts as the limo screeches to a halt. I’m nearly thrown again, but I manage to hang on to the seatbelt strap.

  “Now, Nora!” Julian yells, throwing open his door. “Go now!”

  The seatbelt buckle finally pops loose, and I grab my dad’s hand as he grabs my mom’s. Pushing open the opposite door, we scramble out of the car, falling onto our hands and knees. My heart pounding, I swivel my head, looking for our plane, and then I see it.

  It’s standing near the exit on the opposite side of the hangar, with a dozen other planes between us and it.

  “This way!” I jump to my feet, tugging at my dad. “Come on, we have to go!”

  We start running. Behind us, there is another screech of brakes, followed by a furious burst of gunfire. Twisting my head, I see Julian and Lucas shooting at an SUV that just barreled into the building behind us. Rosa is running too; she’s right on our heels. My heart hammering, I slow down, everything inside me screaming to turn back, to help Lucas and Julian, but then I recall his words.