DANIEL POV
"Zeke, floor it!" I roared, the sound tearing through the cramped, metal interior of the van.
The black SUV didn't just pull into the diner parking lot. it screeched in with a predatory hunger, tires screaming against the cracked asphalt like a banshee.
We scrambled into the back, the sliding door rattling on its tracks. Before it could even click shut, Zeke jammed the vehicle into gear. The scent of burning rubber and desperation filled the cabin as we peeled out, the force of the acceleration slamming me against the metal paneling.
I looked through the rear window just in time to see four men in charcoal suits vaulting out of the SUV. They weren't moving like street thugs; they moved with a clinical, terrifying efficiency. These were Arthur Sterling’s professional killers
