A second Crown Victoria tore up the ramp from the underground parking garage. “Shit,” said Jax, throwing a quick glance in the rearview mirror. “There’s two of them.”
He sped up the street, the first cruiser hard on his ass, the second darting out into the lane beside them and moving up fast. At the first intersection, he spun a quick right, flooring the accelerator as he straightened the wheel, the rear end fishtailing. Beside him, October flung out a quick hand to steady herself.
“Those are police interceptors,” he said, the Trailblazer’s engine racing as he tore up the street. “We’re never going to outrun them.”
She craned around to look back. “They’re police?”
“No. No lights and sirens. But these guys have the same cars police drive. Which means they’re fast.” He hung another quick right, forcing the second car to fall back behind the first.
“So what do we do?” she asked. “We can’t keep going around the block.”
“I don’t intend to.”
They were almost at the next intersection. Jax geared down rapidly from fourth to third, then down to second, the engine revving way up as he kept his foot off the brake.
The cruiser behind him roared up on his back end. Jax geared down to first. Tobie watched his face harden.
“What are you doing?”
“Brace yourself.” Halfway around the next corner, he slammed on the brakes and threw the Trailblazer into reverse.
“What the—”
He floored the accelerator, sending the Trailblazer screaming backward. The heavy SUV slammed into the cruiser’s right front at an angle, crumpling the fender back into the wheel and setting off its air bags.
Jax threw the car into first and floored it again, disengaging a nanosecond before the second cruiser plowed into the back of the first.
“You all right?” he asked, throwing her a quick glance as he raced up the street.
“Yeah.” She craned around to look behind them. “Oh, shit. Here comes the second guy.”
Jax’s eyes darted toward the rearview mirror. The pileup had immobilized the first cruiser, but not the second. Tires squealing, air bags still deflating, it whipped around the crippled first car and tore after them.
The light at the next corner was changing. Jax floored the accelerator, streaking through the intersection under a yellow light. The light turned red. The Crown Victoria barreled on through. An early morning commuter slammed on his brakes and went into a sideways skid, his horn blaring as the cruiser shot past.
Jax narrowed his eyes against the rising sun spilling golden light through the canyons of tall buildings. He could see a green space up ahead on his right, a small park of grass and low shrubs some two blocks before the street he was on merged with another street at a Y intersection.
He eased the SUV into the gutter, the right tires rubbing against the curb as he cut in close. There was a crosswalk with a handicap curb cut, just past a four-story building of glass and steel, where the park began. “Hang on,” he yelled.
October grabbed for the armrest. He jerked the wheel to the right, just enough to send his right front tire into the curb cut, then straightened out with his right wheels on the sidewalk, his left wheels in the gutter. The Trailblazer tilted wildly as he ran that way for some thirty feet. He wiped out two parking meters, the impact jarring the wheel under his grip. A cross-walk sign tumbled off the front hood to skitter across the street.
She flinched. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to cut across the park. But if I turn straight into the curb it’ll flip the car.”
“Uh…fire hydrant,” she gasped, one hand braced against the Trailblazer’s roof, the other still gripping the door’s armrest.
“I see it.” By now he’d eased his left tires against the curb. The friction pulled the heavy car up so that they literally climbed the curb. He felt the left tires grab the sidewalk’s concrete and immediately spun the wheel to the right. The SUV skidded sideways, missing the fireplug with inches to spare.
“Holy shit.”
He tore across the green strip, the Trailblazer’s big tires ripping through soft earth and grass and smashing rosebushes. Careening through a line of low shrubs onto the far sidewalk, the Trailblazer rocked and bounced as it clattered down off the curb and onto the far street. He hit the gas, tires squealing as he spun the wheel to the right and tore back up the street.
“What are they doing?” he asked. “Can you see?”
She craned to look behind them. “They’re going up to the intersection. There’s no way they can follow you across the park in that car.”
He made a quick left, then a right, then another left, weaving through the city streets, moderating his speed as the morning traffic increased and they left their pursuers far behind.
October released her death grip on the armrest and smoothed the skirt over her thighs with a hand that was not quite steady. “Well,” she said, studying the Trailblazer’s ravaged front and rear ends. “It’s a good thing you don’t rent these cars in your own name.”