Another shot blew the driver’s side-view mirror off her car.

“Son of a bitch,” she muttered.

“Who the hell would be shooting at you?” Nick asked, his heart pounding, adrenaline and fear coursing through him. Thanks to the shattered windows, the temperature inside the car plummeted as the speedometer climbed to eighty-five. Lights flashing, they flew through deserted streets, dodging parked cars and the occasional pedestrian.

“Get the fuck out of the way!” Sam screamed at one of them. “Could be anyone. I’ve made lots of ‘friends’ during my twelve years on the force.” Her eyes darted to the rearview mirror. “Where the hell is my back up?” Reaching for her radio, she made a second more urgent call for help.

Zipping through red lights on Fourteenth Street, Nick braced for side impact. Watching her, he saw concentration, determination and a complete lack of fear, which made him feel like a total wimp since he was scared shitless. “You’re one ballsy chick, Holland.”

“Just doing my job, Senator. Oh fuck!” She grabbed his coat. “Get down, Nick!”

The shooter in the other car had turned around to aim the gun at them. They dropped down in their seats, and Sam eased off the accelerator—slightly. The shot took out their left front tire, sending them into a spin that Sam tried valiantly to control. She let out a scream when the car suddenly launched into a series of bone-jarring flips, coming to rest upside down.

Since the front end didn’t hit anything, the airbags didn’t deploy, and at some point during the spin, Nick took hard hits to his forehead and shoulder. Shaking off the stars that danced in his eyes, he hung upside down, held in place by a seatbelt. Once he could see straight again, he looked over at Sam. Blood dripped from an open wound on her forehead, and she was out cold.

“Sam!” He managed to release his seatbelt and fell to the ceiling of the car. Catching a whiff of gas, his heart kicked into overdrive. “Sam! We’ve got to get out of here!”

The glow of a flashlight appeared outside the scrunched passenger window. Nick saw a badge on the chest of the officer who leaned into the car. “Are you folks all right in there?”

“I am, but Lieutenant Holland is hurt, and I smell gas.”

“I do, too. Try to stay calm. The fire department’s extrication unit is on its way.”

Based on the amount of blood coming from the cut on her head, Nick decided that releasing her from the seatbelt was more important than keeping her still. He worked his way under her so he could catch her when she fell. Even though his shoulder throbbed and he trembled from shock as well as the frigid temperature, he broke into a sweat from the effort it took to free her from the belt.