Kathy was in the front passenger seat with Pete in back. It was past six in the morning and the sun was beginning to peek through the clouds to launch its daily assault on Miami and Broward. They were all working on a few hours of sleep, none of it gained after the encounter with Trabanco.
Happy Monday. It was too easy. A trap you two walked right into. Kathy dove in front of him and tried to steer the car, but the big SUV veered into the left lane of traffic, followed by honking horns and scrambling commuters. Pete ducked. His ears were ringing and he felt glass on his face, blood trickling down. The car had screeched to a stop.
Through the smoke, Pete saw that the car in front of them, a black Jeep Wrangler, had also stopped. He could see the four feet approaching the car as traffic whizzed around the accident scene.
The cops would be here any second. He slid the gun from his back and rolled away from the car, getting two quick shots off. One connectedβhe knew this because he heard the thug yelp in pain. The other hit the Wrangler.
Pete scrambled back behind the car. These guys worked fast. Just a few minutes out of the police station and they were already getting heat. All she was doing was keeping them at bayβand serving as a distraction. Pete slid around to the left side of the car and onto his belly.
