bubble exploded from his nose. Blood began foaming from his ears and lips. He let out one more scream—and then died.
That’s when all the laughing stopped. Even Twitch was shocked.
“That fucking candy?” he gasped. “That little bitch tried to poison us? Why?”
Before anyone could say a word, there was a huge crash! Something had hit the rear of the speeding SUV with such force, the impact shattered the back window and crushed one of the two men who’d restrained Nolan and Twitch from behind. It had also ripped the duct tape holding Nolan and Twitch to the seat. The other man tried to climb over the seat to get away, but a second, more powerful impact hit, propelled him into the front windshield, cracking his skull.
It was only then that Nolan realized someone was behind the SUV and trying to run them off the road.
He grabbed Twitch and they both fell to the floorboard. The man driving the SUV had retrieved his dead partner’s pistol by this time and was firing over their heads, shooting back at the pursuing vehicle.
Nolan was able to look up into the passenger side rearview mirror. He could see a white Ford Bronco right on their bumper, and its two occupants with wild looks in their eyes. Who were these guys? Were they gunmen from the opium den? Were they associates of the goons in the cathouse? Or friends of the Ugly Twins?
They were pushing the SUV along the narrow alley now. The noise was earsplitting. The SUV was filled with smoke. Nolan was doing his best to protect himself and Twitch. But his colleague was lying so limp, Nolan suddenly wondered if he was even still alive.
He started pounding Twitch hard on the back.
“Stop hitting me!” Twitch finally yelled up at him. “For Christ’s sake, let me enjoy this!”
Nolan almost hit him again, this time right in the jaw.
Can this get any more fucked up? he thought.
He looked back up at the rearview mirror and saw a strange sight: the expression on the Bronco driver’s face had suddenly changed from fierce determination to utter fear.
What’s the matter with him?
He found out an instant later.
The SUV rocketed out of the alley and onto the main street, just in time to broadside a fully loaded produce truck that had turned into their lane. The collision was so violent the SUV flipped over and started skidding along the sidewalk, creating a storm of sparks and broken glass. The interior filled with chunks of cabbage, celery and water beets—that is, until the SUV went through the plate glass window of a nearby butcher shop. This added chickens and chicken parts to the vegetable stew swirling around them. An instant after that, the pursuing Bronco slammed into the rear of the SUV for good, killing both its driver and his passenger and sending the SUV even deeper into the butchery, throwing chunks of bloody red beef into the mix.
Only then did the SUV finally come to a stop. Lying against one door and looking up at the other, Nolan could see all their kidnappers were now dead. He kicked out the side door’s window, shattering it into millions of pieces. Boosting Twitch out this opening, he watched as he slipped down the outside of the wrecked SUV, falling to the dirty street below. Nolan followed, slipping as well, and landing heavily on top of his colleague.
They were bruised, battered and bloodied—but Twitch was laughing again.
“Free at last, motherfucker!” he bellowed. “Thank God almighty, we’re free at last.”
Or so they thought.
The collision had sent everyone on the crowded street running for cover. Knowing this was the break they needed, Nolan tried to get Twitch to his feet, but they both kept slipping on the greasy, gas-stained pavement.
That’s when a white and orange van roared up to the scene, lights flashing, siren blaring.
An ambulance …
“This must be my ride home,” Twitch laughed, still flat out on the street.
A man got out of the vehicle. He was dressed in hospital scrubs and had a surgeon’s mask covering his nose and mouth.
He grabbed Nolan around his shoulders.
“You OK now, Joe,” he said to Nolan. “We fix you up good.”
The man took a damp cloth from his pocket and put it under Nolan’s nose. It had the unmistakable stink of chloroform.
The last thing Nolan remembered the man saying was: “Breath deep, Joe. Count backwards from one hundred…”