A round hits the windshield to my right and produces a nickel-sized hole.
“Oh s**t,” I say, “Gus isn’t going to like that.”
Three more rounds blast out most of the windshield’s left side. I immediately drop onto the center console.
“Fire back!” Tony barks.
“Good idea,” I say, as sarcastically as possible.
Placing the barrel of the AR-15 out the broken windshield, I open up on the two trucks. The rounds ricochet and spark off the windshields and the front grille.
“Bulletproof glass,” I say, releasing the magazine, and punching in my third and last one.
“Nothing’s totally bullet-proof when you get close enough,” Tony insists.
“That a fiction you’re making up?”
“Hey,” he says, “I do my research.”
More rounds coming at us, shattering more glass and coming way too close for comfort.
