The pursuit of James with such reckless abandon had nearly cost the two men their lives. The Barracuda wasn’t exactly designed with safety in mind, and though the car itself was still in working order, Taylor and the man in black weren’t without a little damage themselves. Taylor turned to look at the man, his remaining good hand white-knuckled on the wheel. The other was pressed tight to his stomach, the tail of Taylor’s shirt wrapped around his forearm in a makeshift tourniquet. It was already drenched in blood and the way the man gritted his teeth told Taylor everything about the pain he was in. He’d never felt more satisfied about someone else’s misfortune. The sudden departure from the main road startled Dr. Taylor. Over the roar of the engine, it was hard for him to distinguish anything, let alone the sound of a cell phone ringing. The man in black killed the engine before the car had come to a stop. He pulled the phone out of his jacket with his good hand, pressed a button and held it to his ear.
