“I’ve got a nine-millimeter Beretta semiautomatic standard police issue in my purse. You can take it out.”

He retrieved it, studying its features. “Do you have the magazine?”

“It’s not loaded?”

“No, Cynthia, it is not loaded.”

“Check my purse. If I don’t have one in there, we’re out of luck.”

Rummaging through my purse, he fished out a magazine and shoved it into the chamber. “We’re in luck.”

“Okay. This is what I’m going to do. I’m going to turn right in two blocks, floor it, pull over, and cut the lights. I’m going to park on the wrong side of the street. The driver’s more likely to miss me that way. Then as the Nova passes, I’m going to try to read off the license plate on the back. Stay low in case they decide to shoot.”

“Maybe I should read the license plate while you cover me? I have no doubt that you’re a better shot. And if you’re on the wrong side of the street, I’ll be on the correct side to read the numbers.”

“Except if they start shooting at us, you’ll be closer.”

“A comforting thought.”

“Koby, I am so sorry!”

“Don’t be ridiculous. We’ll handle this.” He rolled his shoulders. “I’m psyched.”

“Ready?”

“Go.”

I made a quick right and punched the accelerator as I jammed the gears. The car bucked backward, then shot forward with surprising speed. I cut the lights, pulled over, switched off the ignition, and ducked. The Nova sped by, but even so, I got most of the plate and what I didn’t get, Koby filled in. I turned the car’s ignition, did a U-turn without lights, then headed back into traffic.

Apparently not soon enough. The Nova had other ideas. It must have been souped up, because within moments it was kissing the Toyota’s rear bumper. I pulled a sharp left into a darkened residential area.

The Nova followed.

Another right, another left. There was no way the Nova could maneuver that easily. Yet there it was, riding my ass.

Getting closer and closer.

I pushed Koby’s head down and smoked the gears. A volley of shots made neat little bullet holes in his trunk and blasted through the rear windshield, shattering the glass.

“Shit!” I screamed as I strained the engine forward. I screeched out a two-tire right and tried to accelerate, hearing the engine whine, feeling the knocking of the gears.

“Kus sa mack!” Koby rolled down the window, and using the side mirror for a view, he twisted his right arm and fired a round into the Nova’s hood. I noticed he shot one-handedly and I noticed he shot like a cop—his palm parallel instead of perpendicular to the ground. He obviously had hit something, because the Nova began to smoke. Before he had a chance to reload, I turned right, and the Nova tore away. I pulled over, turned off the ignition, and caught my breath. “Oh God!” I grabbed Koby’s hand. “Oh God, are you okay?”