Miss No One, Mark Ayre [romantic love story reading .TXT] 📗

The back windscreen shattered. A bullet smashed into the car's floor. As glass flew onto the back seat, Ana screamed and ducked. As her head went down, her hands twisted to the left.

The wheel sensed weakness and seemed to renew its efforts to escape her clutches. Ana fought to hold on. She was almost there. The shooter was in the guard tower, and Ana moved further away every second. How long before she was out of range?

She kept hold of the wheel. Resurfaced from beneath the dash. She had only been down a few seconds and had managed to stay relatively straight. She was still on the runway.

But in those few seconds, someone had departed the tube-shaped building. As Ana rose above the dash, they were stepping onto the runway, into her path.

In ten seconds, she would hit them. In most cars, Ana would expect to win any collision with a human. In this junk-heap, who knew?

The newcomer raised a shotgun. Aimed at her windscreen.

Pulled the trigger.

With a scream, Ana ducked again.

Her windscreen shattered, and she heard the bullet punch her headrest in two.

This time, the wheel won the battle. As Ana ducked, it tore free and the car span, still moving forward but twisting like a dodgem as it went.

Terrified, expecting another bullet, Ana none the less grabbed the wheel and raised her head. She saw the shotgun wielder dive aside as the car spun over the place he'd been standing seconds ago.

The wheel yanked with more force than ever, and Ana screamed as the car continued to spin. In a desperate attempt to gain control, she slammed the brakes.

There was a scream from somewhere deep in the car, then a strange moment. It was almost peaceful. It felt as though Ana was floating.

Then she realised why.

The wheels had stopped spinning, but the car wasn't interested in falling still. The argument led to the vehicle lifting from the ground and twirling through the air.

There was that moment of peace. Then Ana saw the ground rushing towards the side of the car.

She screamed.

The car smashed onto its side, into the tarmac, and rolled. Ana was hurled around within the confines of her seatbelt as the car went from side to roof to side to wheels to side again before it stopped rolling.

Ana stopped screaming, but the car didn't. There was a screech of metal against tarmac as the vehicle slid along a few more metres on its passenger side doors before finally coming to a complete stop.

Held by her seatbelt, Ana hung to her side. She was vaguely aware of the smoke billowing from the vehicle into the sky. At first, there was a ringing in her ears, but after a few seconds, it stopped.

In the silence that followed, Ana heard approaching feet.

Mr Shotgun was coming to finish the job.

Thirty-Nine

The small room, already cramped, felt more so as the tension mounted. The unease had been developing since they arrived and had ballooned when Evans had called to say Abbie had escaped.

Idiot.

Orion was red with rage when he hung up. Fury poured off him, and Franks flinched when he turned her way. Had Evans delivered the message in person, Franks was certain Orion would have killed him in an epic temper tantrum. As Evans' partner, Franks was terrified Becker might take his temper out on her.

Instead, he had gone for a walk. When his sister arrived, he had calmed a little. He hugged Rachel and punched Ndidi in the stomach before shoving the father to his daughter. Franks expected Orion to kill the little girl then, but Orion said the hostages would remain alive. For now.

He was still nervous, was Becker. Franks didn't understand what all the fuss was about. So Abbie was on the loose. What of it? There was no way she could know where they were, was there? Even if she turned up, she couldn't stop them. Orion's team was depleted (Rachel’s prison getaway driver on the run, three dead at Abbie’s hand, five in holding cells following the heist) but not finished. Orion had his right-hand man—Winston—who commanded two terrifying-looking guys. Winston had remained in the room with the Becker siblings, Franks, and the hostages, but the other two had left; one to man the watchtower and one to patrol. If Abbie showed, she'd be killed before she could do any damage.

Or so Franks had assumed.

They remained in that room for what seemed to be days. Orion and Rachel talked of old times but didn't once engage in conversation with anyone else. Winston stood in the corner, shotgun across his chest, looking like he was hibernating with his eyes open. It seemed he could stand statue-still for a hundred years without a care if that was what was required. Franks found herself wishing Evans had remained with them, rather than being left to watch for Abbie. DS Moore was in the square building across the way, the control room. Franks considered asking to pop over for someone to talk to but was too afraid.

Bored out of her mind, Franks was on the verge of falling asleep when the trouble began.

Winston heard it first. So statue still had he been that Franks noticed immediately when, in her peripheral, he turned his head. A moment later, he had stepped away from the wall. Franks didn't know what had caught his attention. Nor did Orion or Rachel, but they turned when Winston moved. Everyone fell silent.

In the corner, Isabella and Idrissa remained huddled together. They fought tears but didn't say a word.

Then Franks heard it. At first, no more than a buzzing, and she had no idea what it might be. But the sound grew louder and louder, and soon she realised.

"No way," said Orion.

Which was when the radio crackled. Winston grabbed it and spoke to his watchtower guy.

"It's a car. Coming this way. Fast."

"I don't care who's in it," said Winston. "Kill them."

The room had only one table with two chairs. Rachel and Orion had