Chapter 32

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Whatever was going on out there, it didn't feel right. None of this did. Hobbs, the explosion, Jakob—it was all becoming one prolonged nightmare. A bad dream Letty wished would hurry up and end.

"Ramsey?" Letty coughed into her shirt, pressed over her nose and mouth to try and keep the smoke at bay. Thick, black, and choking, it'd reduced visibility to almost nothing outside of the SUV. "You got anything?"

"No," she said. "I think the antenna snapped off."

"Shit." Where the hell was Dom? Or, God forbid, Owen? Who knew how long it'd been, and neither one of them had shown up yet. Nor the rest of the team for that matter. "The door's jammed too."

"Have you tried using the headrests?" asked Ramsey.

"Windows are bulletproof," Little Nobody said, wincing where he lay. He'd been jerked back and forth during the explosion, almost cracking his skull open against the driver's side window. The bleeding had since stopped but the headache he'd gained persisted. "No way of breaking them."

Each one was made from an inch and a quarter thick sheet of glass-clad polycarbonate. They were strong enough to stop a .44-calibre bullet, and more than capable of taking a hit or three from a sledgehammer. Not even Hobbs could bust through that without effort.

"So we're trapped."

"Maybe. The others are out there," Eric said. "Give them time. They'll find us."

"Before or after we choke to death on this crap?"

"...street..." The radio squawked faintly, the voice barely intelligible. Ramsey let out a gasp and turned the volume up as high as it would go. "...left..."

The voice wasn't deafening, but it was enough to echo in the darkness and catch Letty's and Eric's attention.

"Shaws...been shot." Crackles and pops from static interfered with the signal, yet those words couldn't be mistaken. "Need a...medevac."

"Oh, shit." Letty looked at the radio, eyes wide. As if this night couldn't get any fucking worse, the only trained assholes on the team had apparently found themselves on the receiving end of one or more bullets. "Oh—"

Owen.

Sure, he was an A Grade piece of shit, but he was the piece of shit she'd called a boss for the better part of nearly four years. And despite what Letty told herself, there was still a part of her that wanted to return to the familiar.

To the old team who still lingered in the back of her mind on the hot summer nights when she was sitting in the yard with Dom's grandmother and the team, downing an icy cold beer and laughing at Roman's jokes.

Or the latest near death experience.

Half-drunk in the car yard with kebabs in hand, grease dripping down their fingers, and Jah reminding them how close they'd come to dying.

Ivory taking bets on whether or not Firuz would have a heart attack when he saw the state of their cars.

Owen sitting on the sidelines, silent yet always aware of whether or not he needed to step in. Shift the conversation to another topic before Klaus and Oakes got into an argument which would quickly escalate to a fight.

And her, Letty, the lone American, trying not to laugh as Beth—no, Vegh—sat beside her, providing both commentary on the growing tension between the two idiots and a small chips.

"Ramsey, try the radio again," Letty said. "See if they pick up. I'm going to—"

Little Nobody sat bolt upright and turned to look at the front windshield. "Does anyone else smell gas?"

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