In the Company of Wolves (SWAT, #3)(68)
He was still trying to wrap his head around that when he was forced to slam on his rear brakes and swerve sideways again to avoid creaming into the rear bumper of the Escalade that had just zipped past him and slowed down.
The second car quickly moved in behind him. Becker didn’t have to look to know it was another one of Kostandin’s crew. If they slammed into his rear wheel, he was toast. Even a minor thump at this speed would send him flying and almost certainly get him run over. He wasn’t sure even an alpha werewolf could live through something like that.
He darted a quick glance to the side, praying he could get off the main road before some unsuspecting driver came along and got in the middle of this mess. But that wasn’t an option. The edge of the road along this stretch of highway was lined with barricades and steel guardrails. Slamming into those would be as bad as getting hit by one of the SUVs trying to run him down.
The vehicle in front slowed down even more, making it easier for his buddy to get Becker from behind. Becker slammed his right foot down on his rear brake pedal again, putting the bike into a sideways slide, then let up on the brake and gunned it, slipping around the left side of the Escalade by mere inches. He would have been home free if the Albanian in the backseat hadn’t leaned out the window and started shooting at him with one of those MP5 automatics the mobsters seemed to love so much.
Becker veered to the left but couldn’t go far because of the guardrail. Most of the spray of bullets missed him, but one 9mm round hit him in the thigh and another clanked into something important-sounding on the bike. Blood ran down his leg at the same time his bike made a grinding sound and began losing speed. He twisted the accelerator as far as it would go. Nothing happened. So much for getting past the front car.
One look in the rearview mirror told him he was doubly screwed. And with the second SUV coming right up behind him, he couldn’t drop back, either. He was completely boxed in with the first SUV on his left, the guardrail on his right, and the second truck behind him. On top of that, his bike wasn’t running well enough for him to get ahead.
The driver of the first Escalade must have realized that at the same time because he immediately jerked the car to the left. Becker would either get crushed against the guardrail, or the jackass with the MP5 was going to get close enough to put a lucky shot through his head.
Becker decided to go for option three. He yanked the handlebars to the right, slamming into the side of the SUV. Before he could lose control of the bike, he was up and leaping off it, landing on the hood of the Escalade. His move caught the driver completely by surprise, giving Becker enough time to punch his clawed hand through the hood and get a grip on something before the stunned driver could recover and try to toss him off.
He tried not to listen as his beautiful, not-even-paid-off-yet bike hit the asphalt hard and was promptly run over by the second Escalade. But it was impossible to ignore the fact that these *s had just destroyed a frigging work of art.
Becker shifted, cutting loose a growl and climbing the hood, his hands punching through the thin steel with every lunge forward. The guy in the backseat was trying to lean far enough out the window to get a shot at him, but the driver was swerving around so much that he couldn’t get a clear pop at him. The same went for the guy in the passenger seat with the handgun. All he was able to do was hold the semiautomatic pistol blindly out the passenger window and shoot in Becker’s general direction. A few rounds nicked him, but nothing that caused any serious damage. Having a partially shifted werewolf on the hood of his vehicle probably had something to do with his poor marksmanship.
As an added bonus, the driver’s wild attempts at slinging him off were also keeping the second Escalade from passing, so Becker only had one vehicle to worry about.
The gunner in the backseat finally said the hell with it and tried to shoot him through the windshield. All the guy accomplished was pelting the driver with brass cartridge cases and getting the windshield out of Becker’s way. The driver freaked out and almost lost control of the car when Becker reached through the shattered window and ripped the guy with the handgun out of the passenger seat and tossed him aside…where he was run over by the second SUV. Somewhere, the soul of Becker’s Harley was growling its approval.
The move didn’t come without a price though. The guy in the backseat shot him through the same damn shoulder he’d been hit in a couple days ago. Damn. It hurt like a son of a bitch. Ignoring the pain, he crawled into the passenger seat to yank the gun out of the guy’s hand, then grabbed the *’s arm and dragged him out too.
The driver kept yanking the steering wheel from side to side right up until the moment Becker ripped out his throat. Unfortunately, the dead man’s foot wedged against the gas pedal, and instead of slowing down, the Escalade raced forward.
Becker swore and reached in to grab the wheel. He got the car going in a straight line, but it was still gaining speed. He needed to get the damn driver out of the way.
Thankfully, the driver hadn’t been wearing a seat belt, so Becker just had to shove the guy out the door, then climb into the driver’s seat.
Once he got control of the vehicle, he jerked into the left-hand lane, then immediately slammed on the brake, forcing the other SUV to swerve to the right. The moment that Escalade was even with him, he yanked the wheel to the right and smashed into it, causing it to hit the metal guardrail and slide along the barrier for a few feet, then crash through it and flip a few times before coming to a halt.