Chapter 74

Finn helped Liv pull herself off the ground. She winced in pain as her body rebelled. When she opened her eyes, she could see that the wind had died down and the sun was starting to shine again. Liv brushed her hair away from her face and adjusted herself. Both inserted fresh magazines into their assault rifles and stared at the gaping, black hole in the mine's door.

"You think there's more than one bad guy left in there?" Finn wiped the dust from his clothes.

"Hopefully not," Liv said wearily. She tried to run her fingers through her matted hair, but gave up. Every time she moved, stabbing jolts of pain, from the gunshot wound and multiple bruises, raced through her body. "I hope this is over pretty soon. I could really use some painkillers. But first we finish this. Let's go kill my asshole godfather!" Liv took the lead, boldly walking through the jagged metal hole, back into the darkness. She switched on the Surefire and scanned the mineshaft.

Finn was about to tell her to turn the light off, but decided not to. They might need it. "Mmm, pulpy," Finn said as he scrunched his face. The three explosions had painted the rocky walls red. Nothing remained of the sandbags that had once made up the machine gun nest.

"Not a pretty sight, that's for sure," Liv agreed. "I think the smell is the worst part, though."

"Shhh, you hear that?" Finn held his finger to his lip. Though faint, they could hear the sound of a car turning over, followed by a high-powered engine roaring to life.

"I bet that's not the ice cream truck," Liv muttered. Moments later, a pair of bright headlights came barreling toward them. Finn opened fire just a fraction of a second after Liv.

"Oh, this is too perfect," Mitch gloated as he stomped the gas pedal. In the darkness, after the explosion from Tony's second grenade had killed the emergency lights, he had raced over to his Mercedes. He fumbled for the key, climbed in, and closed the door, only half a second before a slug from the .410 slammed into the driver's side window. But the bulletproof glass valiantly resisted the lead slug that would have otherwise hit him in the head. Mitch flipped on the headlights, then waved at the livid woman who was reloading her shotgun. He laughed as he started the SUV, shifted into gear, and raced toward the main entrance.

Now, in front of him stood his goddaughter and her accomplice. "Time to learn some manners." Mitch's lips twisted into a sneer, as he floored the gas pedal. The AMG motor roared and turned the tires into white smoke as the Mercedes leaped forward.

High-powered rifle rounds slammed into the SUV as Liv and Finn worked desperately to stop the vehicle bearing down on them. Though Finn had been a second late to join the firefight, they both ran out of ammo at the same time.

"Shit, get the fuck out of the way!" Liv screamed. Ignoring her own advice, she stood in the middle of the passageway, waiting for the headlights to grow closer. Though she knew it would do no good, she pulled the pink P-22 from her ankle holster and opened fire.

Mitch laughed harder as the little rounds from the pistol smacked the windshield. Unlike the cracking impact of the rifle bullets, the .22 shells hit with a slight plink sound. In the harsh glare of the headlights, he could make out her features. She was covered in grime. Her clothes and skin were cut up, but she still had a determined look on her face as she futilely emptied her clip.

Liv watched the headlights grow closer and closer. She didn't really have a plan; she just wanted revenge. She knew there was no chance of killing the SUV or its driver with the little pistol, but she didn't care. Something in her mind had snapped. At the last second, the sane part of her brain kicked in and she dove to the left.

Mitch attempted to swerve and hit her, but was traveling too fast and couldn't turn hard enough. "Next time," Mitch promised as he sped past her and out the mineshaft opening. Clear of the shaft, he slowed and locked the differentials. The long trek back to town would be difficult but he was confident in the Mercedes off-roading capabilities. With three locking differentials, and grippy snow tires, he would have no trouble making the slow journey back to Eagles Landing. From there, he would board the company jet and head to Mexico and freedom. In two days time, Mitch imagined he would be lounging on the beach in some tax haven, eyeing the local beauties.