Marked Man by Jared Paul Read Free Book Online Page A

horn wailed angrily.
    “That was too close.”
    The dangerous move had bought them ten yards of breathing room from their pursuers. Bollier hit the gas and turned onto a narrow lane, riding the riverfront. They had a lead for a short time but the detective’s car simply did not have the horsepower to compete with the Russians’ large brutish gas guzzlers. A bullet fired from one of the SUVs just barely grazed Bollier’s cheek and she started bleeding liberally into the lap of her khakis. She cursed but was more shaken than anything and continued to drive, gritting her teeth and hissing through the pain. One of the SUVs got alongside and pressured the Taurus up against the embankment on the edge of the river. Jordan took aim at the windows, only to find that it was protected by bullet proof glass. He fired at the front tires but they kept on rolling; a custom polymer, no doubt. Someone had gone to considerable expense to armor the entire vehicle.
    “We’re in trouble.” He announced.
    “I noticed.”
    Some sixty yards ahead Bollier spotted a ramp in their path. Bollier jerked the wheel left, trying to force the SUV off their flank, but the pressure of its weight was too much. Jordan saw what was coming and tensed up, stomping his boots out as if there were brakes on his side. Bollier had the same thought and hit the brake, but the second Russian vehicle accelerated up from behind and rammed their rear fender, forcing them forward.
    “Take the ramp.” Jordan yelled.
    “This isn’t fucking Starsky and Hutch you don’t know what’s on the other side.”
    “Maybe not but I do know what’s on this side.”
    Bollier pushed the Taurus into its highest gear and again tried to brush the SUV on the left aside.
    “Take the ramp there’s no time!”
    “Shut up I know what I’m doing!”
    With no other options the detective engaged the emergency brake and turned the wheel as far as it would go. The Taurus gained a few feet of separation and tried to slip out between the ramp and the SUV, but it came on too fast. Bollier hit the side of the ramp at an awkward angle and the car went airborne, spiraling end over end like a well thrown football. Even though his field of vision was spinning Jordan saw several freight compartments stacked up on the other side of the ramp. Had Bollier listened to him they certainly would have been killed.
    The Taurus was in the air for only two, maybe three seconds but it seemed so much longer. While they were spinning Jordan pondered for a fraction of a second why in emergencies time crept like a slug, but the happiest moments blurred by so fast. He even had time to come up with a simple plan. If they survived the plunge into the river, and that was no guarantee, he would swim with Bollier under the pier and hide until the Russians were gone. Jordan swung his door open. Just before they hit the water and the frigid blue East River swallowed them up he grabbed the detective’s hand. Maybe it was all part of the plan to pull her out of the water, maybe he just didn’t want to die alone.
    …
    Roman Dorokhin pulled over and parked his massive armored Volvo alongside a stack of freight boxes, recalling how Boris Maslov had laughed at all the tens of thousands of dollars he had invested into bullet proofing it. Boris said he should have saved it for something useful, like a stripper. Boris Maslov was dead now. Boris was a fool.
    Along with his two comrades Roman walked up to the edge of the water. Large air bubbles were coming up from where the police woman’s battered and bullet ridden car had sunk into the water. Roman motioned for Ivan and Yakov to reload as he pressed a fresh clip into his Kalishnokov, then the three of them unloaded into the frothing group of bubbles. The bullets sliced into the river, cutting the water as if it were icing on a dark blue cake. The sound of the three weapons harmonizing together was quite a roar, but under the clamor Roman heard the distinct sound of distant