She shrugged. "Let her drive."
As we passed the Sunday driver, the Chrysler crowded behind us followed, then slipped into the right lane to push past impatiently.
Delaney glanced in the mirror. "What a dick."
"Screw it; he can sweep for cops ahead of us."
It was only luck that I glanced over to see an arm out the window, holding a large revolver.
"Get down. g*n. g*n. g*n!" I hunched down myself.
The shots spawned insanely loud clangs, a giant steel bell that rang in a tight, rapid rhythm as Delaney curled up into a tight ball.
I pushed right as fast as I could risk with the load, hoping to catch him and shove him off the road into the fields.
The metallic clanging suddenly stopped. That was six rounds. I started to reach for my 1911 behind Delaney's seat. He'd have to switch guns o
