Not wanting to injure any innocent lives, Teagan texted a request to get the satellite tracking on the car.
“Marcus,” Teagan said.
“Yes, ma’am, Director.”
“I need satellite coverage on vehicles.”
“What’s the number?” he answered.
“CN3455,” Teagan muttered.
“Copy that. Give me five minutes.” Marcus confirmed.
“I needed it twenty minutes ago.” Teagan yelled, ending the call. Five minutes on the dot, a helicopter rose above them and followed the car ahead of them as traffic smoothed out, and Daughtrey had a better chance of easing up on them.
Pop! Pop!
The car weaved in and out of traffic as Daughtrey pushed the gas on the SUV, avoiding bullets flying back and forth. Spider was on the left side of the backseat, and Teagan sat in the passenger seat, shooting back. They caught a lead a
