Dillon was out of the curve and lining up his shot on the trail car when the radio crackled to life. Nothing came through, although he thought he could hear breathing. A brief glance told him he was still on their team channel. He heard her voice starting to say something and then a blast of static drowned it out.

  "Kayla? What’s going on?"

  ***

  The announcer’s booth went silent at the second set of explosions on the fixed positions. The cameras zoomed in as much as they could on the scene, but between the smoke and dust, there wasn’t much to make out. Rebekah checked the weapons assigned to the players on foot, but all they were armed with were light machine guns and sidearms. Nothing out there could have caused that kind of blast. In her experience, those looked like grenade bursts, and she began to manipulate the replay footage on screen, looking for anything to confirm that.

  Dave continued to stare at the main screen, and he frowned when a third set of explosions lit up the map. "That’s not… something’s wrong here. Rebekah, are you seeing what I’m seeing?"

  She rolled her eyes while she worked, amazed at the man’s cluelessness. '"Yes, Dave. Somehow, someone brought in weapons that weren't allowed in this competition. It looks like they’re using them on the rally teams. We should be seeing… yes, there’s stadium security. This should be over—"

  Her voice broke off when one of the contestant winners opened up on the guards with an assault rifle. Two of the three guards went down right away, and the third dove for cover.

  ***

  Both Nico and Eric reacted identically to the explosions in the arena, by dropping to the ground. Once they were sure nothing hit the window, they stood cautiously, peering over the edge.

  "That looks like grenade explosions, Eric. Too small to be rockets. Neither one was part of the armament package."

  His operations director dropped back down below the lip of the sill and was rapidly texting on his phone. "Nothing explosive was part of the event, Nico. And that means we have big time trouble."

  "Kayla! They hit her position." He turned to run for the door and fell to one knee when his friend grabbed an ankle. "Let go of me, dammit!"

  "Think, Nico." Eric put the phone away and drew a pistol from under his coat. "They might not be the only targets."

  "What do you—" He broke off and looked down at his chest. "Who’d want to take me out?"

  "I don’t know and I don’t care. Right now, you have to stay alive because you’re the only one who get our team the help they need. Get on your phone and start calling people. We need all the help we can get." He stood and started moving furniture in front of the door.

  Pulling out his phone, Nico stood and looked back into the arena. "What about Dillon and Kayla?"

  "They have heavy weapons and teammates out there with them. We have nobody we know or trust. Be more worried about us. And get away from the damned window."

  ***

  Dillon switched over to the general channel. "Hey, I’ve lost comms with Kayla. Are you guys picking up anything?"

  "A little busy here, kid," growled Gabe, his car powering into the flat curve and drifting in a cloud of dust.

  Jesse responded, "Yeah, I can’t get Danalee. Nothing, not even static."

  There was nothing from the Flammo car when she took the curve, and the two cars behind him took the shot. They had a perfect deflection angle when she went broadside to them. Both the left rear tire and rear quarter panel blew apart in a shower of plastic and rubber fragments. The car, already suffering from one lost tire, started to spin. It went right off the track and into the dirt-filled barriers. A cloud of dust sprayed up and out, adding to the one Gabe created and turning that curve into a blind zone.

  Dillon watched Jesse drive into the dust cloud, taking the inside track as best he could. The young driver winced, praying that the wreck wasn’t sticking out too far. Their pursuers went low too, tires chirping on the track while they tried to stay in control.

  The car in front of him, still swerving back and forth to deny him an easy shot, couldn’t maneuver also into the curve. They ended up going high and were forced hit the brakes to make it through. Sensing an advantage, even though it would put the car behind him, Dillon took the curve just right, diving in from the outside to cut through the arc.

  He came out into the straightaway with no loss in speed and accelerating. His previous opponent was left behind, trying to get his own speed back up.

  "Jesse, I’m behind your tailgaters now. Let’s see if we can’t give them some of their own medicine."

  "Let me know when, Dillon. I ain’t got no good choices right now. That flat curve is coming up and soon as I slow down, they’re going to pour it into me."

  "Not if I’m pestering them from the back. Just let me know when you’re going to brake, and I’ll throw some lead their way."

  Seconds passed, until the older autoduellist said, "Braking now."

  Dillon lined up the crosshairs on the car with the best shot and hit the fire button. Bullets flew toward his target, putting holes in the armor and sending pieces flying into the air. The driver reacted, trying to swerve out of the line of fire. His partner belatedly moved too, both trying to give the other driver some room and make himself a more difficult target.

  The braking and steering necessary to get through the flat curve eliminated further weapons fire from them, and they all made it through in the same relative positions. Gabe, realizing that he would be going through the upcoming fire zone from the fixed positions alone, braked hard to let the rest of the pack catch up with him.

  ***

  Up in the commentator booth, chaos reigned. The two arena referees were the most active, one scrutinizing the video footage to identify who was using the illegal weapons, while the other talked to the security office on the phone. The three local color commentators were less agitated, but their conversations were animated while they went back and forth with their theories, trying to figure out what was going on in front of them.

  Through it all, Rebekah remained where she was, screen frozen on a blurry image of a person in body armor raising a grenade launcher. Dave was flipping through the available camera views, starting sentences when he saw things but never finishing the thought. He was completely ignoring her and the others, talking only to the camera and not really saying much. She waited for a lull in the commentary and said, "It looks to me like there’s a concerted effort to disrupt the event."

  Everyone on her channel stopped talking and turned to look at the reporter. Her finger pointed at the window, past the screen in front of her. "We’re seeing at least three cars working together against the rally racers. There were another three people involved in unauthorized attacks on the gunners. I think someone manipulated the system to get a coordinated group of people into the arena with the sole purpose of taking out the racers."

  Dave’s mouth worked, and nothing came out. A sudden flash of red and orange announced an explosion on the track, and everyone stood up to look out the window, ignoring their screens.

  ***

  Jerrod was grinning inside his helmet while he loaded another grenade. In the next pit, Franklin laid aside the grenade launcher and hefted the oversized tube of the rocket launcher. Beside him, Callie turned her head from watching for more arena security and pumped her fist in the air when he put it to his shoulder, took aim, and fired. The rocket streaked toward the lead car, tracing a bright streak across the track.

  ***

  Gabe’s sudden slowdown saved his life, since the rocket streaked past his hood and exploded in the dirt next to the track. Shocked, he slowed even more, which allowed Jesse to catch up to him. The older autoduellist radioed, "Get going, Gabe. Keep your speed up or you’re going to take it in the ass."

  Dillon echoed the sentiment, calling out, "These guys are lining up on you. Speed up and evade." He double-checked his own pursuer, but the vehicle was still in the curve.

  A lone machinegun opened up from their side of the track, sending flickers of red tracers at the rocket launcher position. There was no one else firing, however. Dillon’s heart sank when a quick glance showed dirt and sandbags torn apart at their positions, with small fires here and there.

  What happened there? And where did that rocket come from? Is that some kind of hazard the arena is putting out?

  He didn’t have time to work out the problem, since a grenade landed in front of him. His evasive maneuvers put it off to his left side, and the driver’s side window shattered when it was struck by shrapnel. The left front tire blew in a shower of rubber, and he struggled to get control while he let up on the accelerator to help maintain control.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  The two enemy cars in front took advantage of this distraction to line up on the Quikshred driver, and bursts peppered him from behind and the side while they swerved back and forth across the track. He lost a tire, and then his rear bumper came off, bouncing between the two pursuers while they relentlessly hounded him.

  Gabe slowed going into the curve, trying to distract them while he swung back and forth across their line of fire. Now with his vehicle back under control, Dillon planned on how he could take advantage of this change in tactics. The last car was catching up to him, firing while it came. They weren’t hitting him, but the bullets were coming closer every second.

  He took the high lane going into the curve, pushing the little Kart’s engine as best he could. The drag from the shredded tire kept him from going too fast, but he didn’t need all that much speed. It was just enough that when he hit the high point of the curve, he let the wheel slide to the left a bit.

  The rubber clung to the rim, but that didn’t matter since the wheel dug into the packed earth of the track. It swung the front end to the left much quicker than normal, and Dillon quickly corrected so that he was facing the curve’s exit with his weapon pointed directly at his opponents.

  He cut loose with short bursts, trying to fill the space they were entering with as much lead as possible. The angle meant he caught them on their sides, with both front and back tires exposed. Holes appeared in the armor, and a tire blew, but that was all Dillon could accomplish in the short window they were in his line of fire.

  When he came out of the curve into the front stretch, he was even further behind the lead four, and now his pursuer was catching up to him.

  "I just heard from Rafe. That was him firing earlier. The enemy team pulled out grenade launchers and dropped several rounds on our people. Rafe’s hurt but still up. He can’t tell about your gunners, though."

  Dillon’s heart jumped into his throat, but he quickly squashed the feeling of dread. There wasn’t anything he could do right now, except eliminate the people trying to kill him. He called out to Jesse and Gabe, "We need a plan, guys. We gotta take out these three fast so we can help our gunners."

  "No kidding. Got any bright ideas, kid?"

  "Yeah, but you’re not going to like it. How’s your bootlegger skills?"

  "What, turn into them? Then what?"

  "We go three on one on the guy behind me. Then we whip about again and we chase down those bastards together, while they can’t shoot back. We gotta do it now, while their gunners can’t shoot us."

  Jesse’s dry voice chuckled. "I like it. They changed the game on us, so we’re going to do the same to them."

  There was satisfaction in Gabe's reply. "Well, I like any plan that put me where I can destroy things. Jesse, let’s go on three. One, two, three."

  Both cars threw up huge clouds of dust while they threw themselves into a tight one-eighty-degree turn, reversing course in the space of a few seconds. Their pursuers, caught off guard, were unable to brake in time and flew right past them. Gabe and Jesse then accelerated towards Dillon.

  The car behind him was only about four lengths behind, and Dillon was doing the best he could to shield his teammates’ approach. "I’m going to lure him to the outside. Get ready."

  He feinted like he was going to the inside, but clumsily, as if the blown tire was making maneuvering more difficult than it was. Then he moved to the outside, as rapidly as the damaged care could make it. Sure enough, his opponent took the bait and moved in, cutting the angle and gaining two lengths on him in a few seconds.

  That was all the time the two experienced autoduellists needed. Once unmasked by Dillon, they opened up on the approaching target. Firing short, controlled bursts, they hammered the front of the Kart mercilessly. Bits of plastic armor and other debris flew in all directions, and the driver tried to shoot back while moving to avoid their attack.

  He failed miserably at both. A small maneuver unmasked one tire, and Gabe took it apart with one burst of fire. Jesse’s next shot damaged something in the suspension, because the car’s front end dropped several inches. Combined with the loss of height from the tire, this caused the nose of the car to dig into the track. The rear end went flying, and momentum carried the car through two complete end-over-end flips before it settled on one side and skidded to a stop in the middle of the track.

  "That’s a kill. I’ll even give you the assist on that, old man."

  "I don’t need your charity, Gabriel. Just keep driving and let’s win this thing." With that, Jesse turned into another bootlegger. The sidewall on one of the rear tires, damaged already, gave way with a huge bang. This sent him spinning slowly out of control to the inside of the track. Gabe completed his turn with no issues, and Jesse radioed, "Keep going. I’ll catch up."

  Dillon kept his speed down so that Gabe could come level with him. When he did so, he gave the younger driver a fist pump. "Okay rookie. Follow my lead. Shoot at who I shoot at and don’t get in my way."

  Swallowing a retort, Dillon merely clicked the transmit button twice. He allowed the man to get a half a length lead before he matched his speed. Up ahead, they could see their two opponents. Strangely, they were also slowing and hadn’t even entered the flat turn yet.

  "Easy meat. Get ready, kid. We’ll wait to get in close and then finish them off. This’ll be the easiest thing you’ve ever done."

  The distance separating them closed with agonizing slowness. Their targets were in the turn now and they were still a few lengths from entering it. At their speed, they have to know they’re easy targets. They could easily take this turn faster than this. What’re they planning?

  The two teammates entered the flat turn, with the other man taking the inside lane. Dillon moved to the outside, and even though he was concentrating on keeping the car under control, Dillon thought he saw something come out of a window on one of the cars.

  A few seconds later, when they were exiting the turn, several explosions went off across the track in front and among them. Belatedly, Dillon realized those were grenades being thrown out the window.

  Gabe’s desire to be in the front of the action meant his car took the brunt of the barrage. One of them went off under his car, actually lifting the small frame up off the track several inches. Other bracketed his car, and he lost a front and rear tire nearly at the same time, on opposite corners. The car landed unevenly and Gabe’s excellent reflexes and experience got the vehicle back under control, although at a vastly reduced speed.

  Being forced to the outside lane helped Dillon this time. The explosives, tossed from the left side of the vehicle pretty much stayed on the inside lane, with only a couple bouncing to the outside. He suffered nothing more than shrapnel penetrations on the left side. One of them hit the battery, and he saw sparks out of his peripheral vision. The battery gauge dropped significantly, and he figured this race would be over very soon.

  "You still with me, Gabe?"

  "Hell yes! Takes more than a few bumps to knock me out." There was a pause, and then he said, slowly, "This thing isn’t controllable much faster than this with two tires out. You… take the lead."

  Grinning while he accelerated, Dillon called back, "Watch out for their side of the track. They have that rocket launcher."

  "Yeah, yeah. He’ll be aiming for me, I bet. Use that."

  In fact, when he glanced up to the right, it looked like there was a full-fledged firefight going on at that position. Security guards were engaging with their own automatic rifles, and the pedestrians were firing back with their own and the grenade launchers. Maybe they’ll be too distracted to shoot at us? No, can’t count on that. And they won’t want to wait for Gabe to get into range. No, they’ll take a shot at me. It would have to be a snap shot, with little time to aim. So, let’s make things interesting.

  He stayed to the outside, keeping his speed up. The closer angle would give them less time to aim, and he had another reason. The two enemy Karts were on the outside also, putting some distance between themselves and Rafe’s position.

  Dillon couldn’t spare a second for a glance at Kayla’s position. Either she was alive or she wasn’t, and he couldn’t do anything about it. He could, however, win this race for her. His attention remained divided between his enemies, in front and to the side.

  He saw the rocket tube appear, the gunner rising to a knee and aiming at him. A half second later, he jerked the wheel to the left, diving for the inside lane. The gunner tracked and fired, his body turning subconsciously to follow the moving target.

  The maneuver put the rearmost Kart between him and the gunner, and the rocket slammed into the rear quarter. The explosion spun the vehicle around, and the rear end came apart in a shower of plastic and aluminum. Its momentum carried the shredded wreckage to the interior of the track, where it came to rest, still upright and burning furiously.

  "And that’s a kill," Dillon radioed over the general channel, grinning from ear to ear. He hoped that the maneuver would work, and it paid off spectacularly. Then his grin faltered when the last Kart pulled their own maneuver on them, turning into a bootlegger of their own. He struggled to get his front end around, but just like his opponents had been surprised, so too was he. The car flew past him, weapon firing at Gabe, who was all alone back there.

  Without pausing to think about it, Dillon whipped his car about to follow his opponent. With the whole track to use, he didn’t try to turn in place. Instead, he dragged the back end across the track, sending up a huge dust cloud. This allowed him to maintain some momentum, and he struggled to get his speed back up.

  Gabe and the last Kart were going head-to-head, hammering away at each other with their lone machineguns. Neither was attempting to dodge, and their slow speeds gave them plenty of time to do damage to each other.

  The firefight on the outside of the track was heavier now, since the security team brought in their own squad automatic weapons to bear. It looked like these were going to do the job, until the rocket launcher fired at them. Their hasty firing position disappeared in a cloud of smoke and flame.

  Dillon wasn’t counting on support from that side. Kayla wasn’t shooting, and he didn’t know if that was due to wounds, the angle, or something else. Enough had gone awry this day that he stopped wondering why things were happening and just decided to deal with it while it happened.

  He was only a few lengths away from his final opponent, but he didn’t open fire. Something in him reached its breaking point. Instead, he drove to the inside and then cut the wheel to the left sharply. The lost front left tire formed a makeshift pivot point, allowing him to get perpendicular to his slow-moving opponent. He then gunned his engine when his front end made contact with the other vehicle’s side.

  Completely focused on killing Gabe, the other driver didn’t even realize at first he was being pushed to the outside of the track. He tried turning to the right, to keep Gabe in his field of fire, but Dillon steered with him, keeping him on his bumper while he pushed the car to the edge of the track.

  When they hit the turf, his target finally realized what was happening. Now he turned to the left, attempting to escape the push. Dillon kept pushing, steering to the left to keep his point of contact near the rear axle of the other car. Up ahead, the raging firefight continued, and overshot rounds from the security team began bouncing off both cars.

  Now the Kart driver realized the danger he was in and dove below the window level, attempting to use the meager armor to shield him from the incoming fire. Dillon kept pushing, his job easier now that that the other Kart wasn’t attempting to get away. He kept pushing and drove the other Kart right over the position of the rogue pedestrians who hurt Kayla.

  Their fire stopped immediately when a couple of thousand pounds of car landed on them. The guards stopped firing also. The whole stadium fell silent for a few seconds, taking in the unusual tactic that ended the rogue threat. Then the crowd erupted in cheers, chanting 'Dead Man's Run!' over and over.

  Satisfied, Dillon reversed his course, getting back onto the track. He pulled up next to Gabe.

  "You ready to finish this thing?"

  "Go ahead. My powerplant’s shot. I didn’t even have enough juice at the end to shoot the guy."

  Dillon looked out his window. "You still got at least two good tires on this side."

  "Yeah, and two on the other side. Yay me. So what?"

  "It means you can get off your lazy ass and finish." Dillon reversed again, coming up behind the Angel’s car with bumpers touching. "You still in gear?"

  "Yeah? What, you gonna push me across the finish?"

  "You’re brighter than you look, Gabe. Now steer so I don’t lose you."

  The two Karts started moving slowly across the track. Behind them, security rushed to take the surviving rogue pedestrians and drivers into custody, and medical personnel ran for the gunner’s position.

  They rounded the turn, with the finish line looming up ahead. Gabe said, "Okay kid. This one I gotta hand to you. Your fancy driving saved our asses and won the race."

  Dillon knew he should feel elation at the win, but when the traditional green flag waved from the sideline, he could only think about Kayla and how she was doing.

  ***

  Rebekah left the announcer's booth as soon as she could after the broadcast terminated. She needed to throw something. Maybe even many things. Then a glass of wine or three to calm down.

  She'd forced herself to smile, lips tight to keep from showing gritted teeth when she congratulated Hodges and the ATSS team. She would have to do it all over again when the rally started the day after tomorrow.

  I don't know how he manages to do it. Every time he wins, and every time I have to watch that simpleton make a fool of himself in front of the camera. If he makes it all the way to Sturgis, let alone wins this whole thing, it'll be a media relations nightmare!

  Taking her anger in check, she pulled out her phone. She checked the Priority icon on the notes she'd made of her conversation with Eric. Looking into Sturgis was becoming more important with each Hodges win.