Marked Man by Jared Paul Read Free Book Online

had missed the mark; she was an incredibly daring stunt woman. The driver of the black SUV was not in the same league and started to lag behind. As Bollier darted around a French bread delivery truck Jordan stared at her incredulously, the gun warm in his hand.
    “Where did you learn to drive like this?”
    “I grew up in Georgetown.”
    Just when it seemed like they would escape their attackers, another big black vehicle dived in from the left lane and side-swiped them. The Taurus bounced to the edge of the bridge and skidded along the railing. Sparks leapt up and showered into the cockpit.
    “Take the wheel.” Bollier commanded.
    “What are you going to… ”
    Before Jordan could finish his question the detective already had her hands off the wheel and the Taurus’ front tires were snaking again. He rea ched across and grabbed the leather wheel, trying to steady it. Bollier snapped her seatbelt off and unzipped her long gray London fog jacket then started digging around inside. Out of the corner of his eye Jordan saw a shoulder holster. Bollier carried a Sig P226. In a dizzying two seconds she loaded, cocked, aimed, and fired.
    The re were two Russians riding in the second vehicle. The man in the passenger’s seat saw the detective getting ready to shoot and ducked his head just in time. Instead, the bullet caved in the driver’s face. The driver fell limp over to the side and the SUV roared out of control, listing towards the divider in the center of the bridge. It bounced off and rolled over several times, coming to a stop across two lanes.
    “That’ll do. T hanks.”
    Jordan realized that he was still gripping the wheel. He let go and Bollier took control again. The first SUV was hot on their tail again, having caught up while the Taurus tore a big scratch alongside the edge of the bridge. Jordan turned to fire but had to leap back in when a flurry of bullets struck the side of the car. Apparently in the interim the bald shooter had upgraded to an Uzi. In between long, eardrum shattering barrages of gunfire Jordan tried to get a better look at him. Once he was certain he huffed out a frustrated breath of air.
    “It’s him.”
    “Him who?”
    “He was there the night of the accident. We were blocked in by two SUV’s. This guy was in one. I recognize the tattoo.”
    “Two phoenixes.”
    “ What does it mean?”
    “Perhaps another time, Mr. Ross we have a bit of a situation here.”
    The detective was right about that much. Like a hydra with its head split, the overturned SUV had been replaced by two more, which were closing in fast. Bollier fired out of the driver’s side, trying to stave them off long enough to avoid being rammed off the bridge. It was a long way down to the East River. Jordan did his best to control his breathing. Fighting mad may help in a bar room tussle but in a shootout an angry gunman was an inaccurate gunman. His training had taught him that much. The old Special Forces reflexes were still there, buried somewhere underneath his layers of grief and guilt.
    He wanted the bald man dead more than anything in the world, but he had to clear his mind. Jordan closed his eyes and focused. He listened to the Uzi’s staccato song, waiting until he knew the rhythm by heart. Finally the bald man paused to reload. Jordan did not hesitate, wheeling around and taking time to get the sights lined up. With one eye closed Jordan squeezed the trigger. The round sailed on a perfect line through the windshield and landed in the shooter’s Adam’s apple. Bleeding madly, he dropped the Uzi, which clattered to the highway floor and started firing off rounds as it spun. One of the SUV’s wheels was clipped. The driver had no choice but to pull over or risk flipping over like his friend.
    “Two down, two to go.”
    Finally Bollier breathed a sigh of relief as they reached the end of the Williamsburg Bridge. She swung a hard right into traffic and barely missed an oncoming semi-truck. The truck’s