Hitman: Captured | #1 - HIATUS

► Chapter 9

"Duck!"

I lower my head, heart jumping at my throat and the bag of chips forgotten at my feet as I try to control my nerves. Blue eyes darting to Neil, the blonde hair Hitman pulling out his gun thumb on the hammer. Pressing my palm against my ears to block out the gunshots rippling the air; car jerks from side to side—speeding faster.

It's already becoming hard to control my breathing, chest sting, fingers curling on my black locks as if it would soothe the bundle of nerves twisting in my stomach. The rapid car movements don't help. Heart pounding so hard against my ribcage I can scarcely hear the pulse in my palms.

Jumping at the sensation of small objects landing on my back I know they managed to hit the back window. I bite my lower lip peering over Neil again to see him rolling down the window, shooting a few rounds of his own. "Give me a gun!" I shout in the middle of the gunfire.

Neil snaps his eyes to me as if I just told him his cat died, "Hell. No."

"What do you mean 'no'? Just give me a damn gun." I argue.

"I'm not giving you a gun," He pauses turning his attention back on the road and lowers his head, making a sharp turn, "That's the last thing I want to trust you with."

I give him an incredulous look flinching when a bullet hits the radio system, "You want to talk about trust right now? Seriously? Either you give me a gun or we're both going to be fucked!" I answer stubbornly. With an irritated glance from him, he agrees with a nod, "I have one in the glove compartment."

Keeping myself ducked, I open the glove compartment in front of my face pulling down a handgun; I close it—inspecting the weapon at the palm of my hand. My thumb on the magazine release button between the grip panel and the trigger guard; the magazine drops on the other palm of my hand to make sure it isn't empty.

Once I see it isn't I slip it back inside until it clicks, the button popping back onto my thumb and pulling back the safety off, "Be careful with that." Neil says receiving a glare from me, "I told you, I know how to handle a gun so stop treating me like a damsel in distress."

I turn around, looking past the headset to see two black vehicles gaining on us at an extreme speed despite Neil's constant switch in lanes to lose them. Pushing up the glasses back up, I straighten the sight, one hand on the grip panel with my forefinger on the frame and my other under the magazine. I relax, keeping a firm hold and inhale, I aim at the wheel having to draw back slightly at the following strings of bullets hitting the car.

Returning to my previous position, mind blank and the anxiety building in my body seemingly calms; this time I rest my finger on the trigger and repeat my inhalation. Pressing the trigger as soon as I exhale, I already prepared for the familiar kick, quickly releasing a few bullets that hit the front wheel at the second shot.

The vehicle to the left lithers across the pavement leaving track marks as it tries to gain back control only to bump into a car on the lane next to theirs. It soon crashes onto the side of the highway creating a traffic behind it—only one remaining. Before I can point my attention on it, it disappears to Neil's side of the lane and Neil moves lanes to not give them the advantage to catch up to us.

Preparing to shoot their wheel, they do it again. Neil having to move lane once more making it clear I can't take a clear shot. I sit back on the seat frowning, "I don't have a clear shot." I say, soon having to duck when they begin to shot at us again. A boisterous pop reaches my ears, car tilting to the side as it jumps up and down—they hit a tire.

"You did good. Leave the rest to me." Neil assures with a smile on his face and usually when someone tells me that, it freaks the hell out of me even more. I remain in my position holding onto the gun as I cover my other ear from the piercing noise leaving the muzzle of his gun.