LOVE ON THE RUN - Sample Chapters

Chapter 8 - Part 1

The getaway van was speeding along some country road Zinio couldn't say that he recognized, although he was the one at the wheel.  

Delaney cried into her handkerchief, and blew her nose, as Charles finished recounting the tale of what went on in the bank lobby. "You see what happens when you show a little love?" she said, directing her comment at Zinio. "Everything goes your way." 

Zinio heard police sirens.  

He looked out the side view mirror at the cops gaining on them. "Charles handles Harper's private parts in public-something I've been dying to do incidentally..." 

"Zinio!" Harper cried. 

"Not your private parts, honey, Delaney's." 

"Zini?" Harper interjected. 

"Yes, darling." 

"I have to pee." 

"Can you give me a minute, hon, to figure out how to possibly fit that request in-in the middle of a life and death chase?!" 

Delaney kicked his seat from behind. Zinio warmed himself in the chill air on the steam coming out of his ears. 

"Try and appreciate the little things," she said. "Like the reprieve we had up until now." 

"When we came out of the sewer lines dressed like Ma and Pa Kettle, they lost us, and had no reason to suspect we weren't still on the West coast."  

He noticed a wooden dining chair with a hole in the middle of the seat from rot by the roadside up ahead. It was part of the outdoor flea market cum junk yard into which the owner had turned his property. He brought the van to a stop, tires squealing. 

Stepping out of the van, Zinio plopped the chair down in the middle of the road, lit a cigarette. "Mason, can you take care of the rest for me?" he said, raising his voice to the rest of the van crew. 

"Sure Zini!" Mason eased his wife out of the van and onto the chair as Zinio walked down the middle of the street in the direction of the cops. 

* * *

From inside the New York City police precinct, Ms. Pierce eyed the giant floor-to-ceiling monitor she was standing in front of. Zinio, standing in the middle of the street, was visible through the video camera of the lead police chase car. "Unbelievable." 

"We got him now," Carter said. "There's no way he's outrunning those police cars in that van, assuming the guy isn't just surrendering. It's not like he's driving away." 

"He's not surrendering," Kerry said. 

"Even if he can get that van in gear in time, there aren't any side roads to duck down." Carter's voice had gone up an octave betraying his own lack of confidence in his assertions. "Just one long straightaway. Hell, even finding a decent outhouse in Hickville there do duck behind is a stretch." 

"Yeah, his goose is cooked," Sam said chiming in finally. 

They weren't getting anything off Ms. Pierce; she just stared rather noncommittally at the monitor. By now, the rest of the team had abandoned their stations and were all jockeying for a front seat view of the big screen. Some of the agents were standing on chairs to see over the heads of those in the front row.  

The betting and exchanging of money had already started on whether Zinio and Delaney would manage to extricate themselves from this one. Sam, the oldest one in the room, had been elected to hold the money, possibly because they all thought he harkened back to an age where people still had principles, and weren't complete sociopaths. He was struggling to keep track of the bets with his pencil and paper on the back of the manila envelope someone had handed him for holding the different denomination dollar bills. Carter jumped into help him with tracking the figures, not because he was good with numbers per se, but because he wanted to make sure he got his share of the winnings. "All right, guys," he said. "Easy, easy. I can only write so fast. First of all, anyone betting against this guy?" All he heard were groans. "Ooh, hope Ms. Pierce was able to take that on the chin," he mumbled. "Doesn't show much faith in her." Carter looked around the room. "Come on, guys. Someone's got to bet against him, or there's like zero odds."