“They’re regrouping. We have maybe thirty seconds. I’m going to pull you out, and we’re going to run to that alley.” He nods toward a narrow passage between buildings about twenty yards away. “Don’t look back. Don’t slow down. If I tell you to drop, you drop. If I tell you to run, you run. Clear?”
He studies my face for a moment, as if gauging whether I’m really processing his words.
Whatever he sees must satisfy him, because he nods once, decisively.
“On three. One… two… three!”
He grabs my arm and yanks me from the wreckage of the car. The sudden movement makes my head spin, but adrenaline takes over.
We sprint toward the alley, my heels abandoned in the car, bare feet slapping against cold pavement.
A shout echoes behind us. More gunfire.
Vince wraps his arm around my waist, half
