Chapter 8 - AMBUSH ON MICHIGAN AVENUE
"Hold on!" Enzo roared, slamming his foot down on the accelerator as the heavy SUV surged forward through the slush.
In the rearview mirror, two unmarked black sedans materialized out of the swirling snowstorm, their high-beams blindingly bright, automatic rifle fire chewing up the vehicle's reinforced rear armor.
"They found us faster than expected," Harper yelled over the deafening clatter of bullets piercing the metal frame.
"My father’s private security detail," Enzo gritted his teeth, spinning the steering wheel hard to drift the heavy vehicle around a snow-covered corner onto Michigan Avenue.
"Vance! Status!" Enzo barked into the radio comms linked to the escort vehicle behind them.
"Boss, we're being swarmed!" Vance’s voice crackled through the static, punctuated by the sound of return gunfire.
"They've got a roadblock ahead at the intersection of Grand and Rush!"
Enzo’s eyes darted across the wet, slick asphalt ahead.
Sure enough, two large commercial trucks were parked diagonally across the four-lane avenue, blocking all escape routes, with a dozen armed men kneeling behind them in tactical gear.
"Hang on to something!" Enzo yelled to Harper.
Instead of braking, Enzo slammed his foot all the way to the floorboards.
The supercharged engine roared like an enraged beast, launching the armored Suburban straight toward the gap between the two trucks at over eighty miles per hour.
Harper gasped, instinctively bracing her hands against the dashboard, her eyes locked on the oncoming barrier.
*Crash!*
The Suburban plowed through the side panel of the right-hand truck with the force of a wrecking ball, sending metal screeching and glass shattering into the night air as they burst through the roadblock like a missile.
Sparks flew in a blinding shower across the windshield as they cleared the debris and careened down the empty downtown street toward the Obsidian Club.
Enzo glanced across the console. Harper was breathing heavily, her knuckles white, but she hadn't screamed once.
"Not bad for a Lake Forest debutante," Enzo muttered, a faint smirk touching the corner of his lips.
"You don't know the half of it," Harper replied, her eyes flashing dangerously as she pulled a spare Glock from the glove compartment and checked the chamber.
Minutes later, the smoking SUV slid to a screeching halt outside the towering, obsidian-glass skyscraper housing the most exclusive underground club in Chicago.
The neon sign above the entrance flickered ominously against the falling snow: *THE OBSIDIAN CLUB.*
"Stay in the vehicle," Enzo ordered, kicking his door open.
May you like
"Not a chance," Harper snapped back, sliding out the passenger side with her weapon raised.
"This is my family’s mess too, Enzo. We finish it together."
