Chapter 90

Elio had actually clocked the tail way earlier but played it cool. He flashed a grin and said, "Let's ease off the gas and see if they are really gunning for us."

"They are totally after your dough. Take it down a notch," Maird instructed, her lips pursed in frustration, her eyes shooting daggers at the rearview mirror.

As the Prado slowed, the Santana did the same, sticking to them like glue and not bothering to pass. The clarity was undeniable—they were up to no good.

"These jerks are asking for it!" Maird fumed, rolling down the window. She leaned out, her lithe figure half out of the car, and with a crossbow in hand, she let an arrow fly.

"Thwack!"

The Santana's windshield now sported a neat little hole. The bolt sailed right between the two hulking goons inside, scaring the daylights out of them. They ducked on instinct, and the driver, in a panic, swerved hard. The car skidded off the road and nosedived into a ditch.

Maird could not help but smirk as she watched the chaos u