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I looked in the rearview mirror, the side mirror, even turned around in my seat to see if I could tell who was driving the car behind us –
But it was impossible with those bright headlights shining at us.
The sandy-haired man was preoccupied with our pursuers and had stopped holding his gun to my head.
“What do you want me to do?” he asked Mezzasalma.
“How many shots do you have?”
“One. So it’s either the helicopter or the car.”
That made no sense –
He only had one bullet?
Mezzasalma pushed a button, and the sunroof over our heads retracted.
Air ripped into the car at hurricane speeds, blowing my hair around like feathers in a windstorm.
“See if you can shoot the tires out first,” Mezzasalma shouted over the roar of the wind.
The sandy-haired man nodded and grabbed an Uzi from the floor of the car.
Then he crawled up onto the center console between me and Mezzasalma and poked his upper body out of the sunroof.
