Chapter 14

Liv had been lucky thus far. The road had been filled with downward sections and tight turns, handicapping the SRT-8's power advantage and accentuating the 944's prowess. The mountainous downhills allowed her to keep the engine off except when she needed to accelerate out of a turn. The sparing use of the engine kept the cylinder head temperature in the safe range, but all of this was about to change.

Ahead was a long steep uphill grade. While Liv currently held a commanding lead over the Jeep, the powerful SUV was quickly closing the gap. On the uphill, she was certainly a goner.

The souped up Jeep would have easily blown past the smaller, lighter Porsche on the uphill, even if the motor were working perfectly. Hell, she thought, that monster could probably pass me going uphill while towing a trailer.

To make matters worse, Liv caught a whiff of gasoline every time she turned. One of the rounds must have pierced the gas tank under the back seat. The fuel gauge was dropping steadily. She hoped there would be enough to make it to the top.

At the base of the hill, Liv glanced at the speedometer. The needle was pegged near 55 mph. She snicked the gear shifter into fourth, and popped the clutch. The engine caught immediately, and the little German car blew past the yellow sign warning drivers to pass with care.

Normally this was one of her favorite parts of the drive. She could open the engine up and fly toward the peak without a care in the world. As she approached the top, she would use gravity to slow herself before entering the tight curve at the summit. At just over a mile long, this was the only significant uphill section on the way back to town. Liv was certain she would never make it to the top.

A brief glance in the rearview mirror revealed a face full of worry that she hardly recognized. Her green eyes flashed around the interior, then settled on her Go Bag. Her worry lines were transformed into a grim smile.

O'Donnell had her. He could see the long steep grade ahead. His lips twisted into an evil sneer. There would be another silver notch in his belt tonight. He was sure of it. O'Donnell floored the accelerator, and the protesting tires left a trail of smoke as they struggled for traction against the opposing forces of the monstrously powerful turbocharged V-8 and the hardened blacktop.

"Holy shit, that's a beautiful truck," Liv watched the SRT-8's tires dissolve into white smoke as the Jeep accelerated toward her. "No offense, Murph. I have lots of interests. You know that. Don't take it personally." She glanced at the temp gauge. "Oh please, please don't take it personally. You know you're the only sports car in my life, Murph. That means something. Trust me! Oh shit! This is gonna be loud." Liv pointed the Steyr out the back window with her right arm and opened fire.

The glass hatchback shattered and pieces of safety glass tumbled through the interior. The wind rushing through the gaping wound swirled around her, making a mess of her dark hair.

Liv returned her attention to the steering wheel, focusing grimly on the daunting task of making it up the straightaway alive.

O'Donnell saw the puffs of smoke from the little white car. Its rear window shattered. He wasn't worried. "Dumb bitch is just wasting ammo. Must be pretty damn scared," he savored the thought of her fear as the rounds flew harmlessly by.

He moved into a ramming position. From his days as a Chicago police officer, he knew that the trick was to push the rear bumper perpendicular to the direction the car was moving. If done correctly, this would make the Porsche go into a flat spin. He never had the opportunity to use this skill as a police officer before being fired for using excessive force. But they trained him well. Now he was going to put that knowledge to use.