16
“How close does he have to get before we agree he’s doing it on purpose?” Anna tapped the breaks, and the black SUV inched closer to her bumper.
Art’s eyes dipped to his mirror. “You mean before I agree to let you shoot him? Touching.”
“Don’t be a drama queen. I suggested we shoot at him. There’s a difference.”
“You’ve got my vote, Lady Boss. I say we shoot him—I mean, at him.”
“I still think he looks familiar.” She glared in the rearview.
“Between the glare on the windshield, cap, and sunglasses, I’d say it’s impossible to tell.”
“Can we at least agree he should have passed us by now?” A single finger pointed from the wheel, down the road stretching to infinity. “This has to be the longest straightaway in all of Mexico.”
A white speck appeared in the distance, dark clouds
