Chapter 687 - Why Can You Hit Me Every Time?

Chapter 687: Why Can You Hit Me Every Time?

Luke listened to the song quietly.

Unexpectedly, the old man could sing pretty well.

He sang with a smile, but only he knew how much blood and tears he had experienced.

What a waste for this old guy to be a hitman! He should’ve been a talk show performer or singer! Luke thought to himself.

The car drove west in the dark and headed for the beach.

The country road was silent at night, and Kincaid, who was tired of singing, fell asleep.

No matter how tough the old man was, he couldn’t withstand the exhaustion from blood loss.

Luke sat quietly in the backseat. Suddenly, his expression changed, and he looked in the rearview mirror.

“We have company,” he said.

Michael looked in the rearview mirror. “How do you know?”

Luke said, “Don’t suddenly speed up; slow down a little. This isn’t a car chase movie.”

Michael asked, “Are you sure?”

Luke drew his gun. “It’s just an SUV. Five people at most, and no police officers around.”

Michael hesitated for a moment, but still did as he was told.

He hadn’t seen much of Luke’s moves, but Luke wasn’t any less efficient as he was.

Of course, the best would be to deal with their worries and then move forward.

Looking at the car behind him, Michael asked in a low voice, “Not going to wake Kincaid up?”

They could get rid of their opponents without Kincaid, but Michael was afraid that the black baldie would be killed in the crossfire.

Luke said, “It’s fine. Wouldn’t you be happy if he died? You won’t have to listen to him teach you everything he knows about love.”

Michael: “…”

He could still tolerate a certain baldie’s verbal jabs for the sake of getting his 3A rating back.

Luke rolled down the window and bent his body slightly as he observed the car in the rearview mirror.

Michael started to slow down after Luke’s warning, and the enemy didn’t notice.

The criminals weren’t stupid. They were only a little faster than Michael’s car, and acted like they were just taking a drive at night.

Luke could only smile without saying anything.

He had seen this car when they withdrew from the safe house. The people in it were clearly mercenaries, and just so happened to choose the same route in the middle of the night.

Luke reminded in a low voice, “Start counting down. When you get to zero, stop the car.”

Michael instantly understood and started counting. “Fifteen, fourteen…”

Luke was lost for words. Can’t you start from five? Even ten is fine.

Of course, he knew that Michael was counting down to when the cars would be next to each other.

“Eight, seven…”

Luke already confirmed that this was the same car that had been outside the safe house.

“Three, two…”

Luke put his foot on the back of the driver’s seat and lifted himself a little.

“One!”

Creak!

The brakes screeched as the Mercedes Benz slowed down, but it remained steady and didn’t slip or flip over.

Michael was also a skilled driver. He knew that he had to set up the best shooting conditions for Luke, so he braked quickly but not abruptly.

Luke followed the car’s movements and pulled the trigger at the black SUV outside the window.

In the passenger seat and the back of the SUV on the right, the three men with guns didn’t have time to react before a series of bullets hit them in the head and upper body.

But Luke exclaimed in surprise. “Something’s wrong with that driver.”

He had shot at the driver as well, but the driver had instantly slid out of the way.

Michael stopped the car smoothly. “How did they track us down? I deliberately chose the road west because I didn’t want them to block us in the east tunnel.”

Kincaid’s lazy voice rang out. “Surveillance cameras. There was one back when you stole the car.”

But Michael shook his head. “That’s impossible. I drove east for a while before turning west.”

Luke said, “Gentlemen, it’s time to witness a miracle. Can you show that driver some respect?”

The two chatterboxes in front also noticed that the driver of the black SUV had come out and was staggering toward them.

Kincaid: “I don’t have a gun. Please go ahead.”

Michael said, “I’m a bodyguard, not a killer.”

Luke snorted. “This driver isn’t human!”

As he spoke, he fired his Glock.

The driver suddenly sped up, and it was almost impossible to see his movements in the dark.

“What the f*ck?!” the two chatterboxes shouted in unison.

The driver was moving so fast that he left an afterimage behind. This definitely wasn’t a speed that a regular person was capable of.

Luke, however, unhurriedly reloaded the Glock.

The driver who was flashing left and right as he pressed forward suddenly stopped. He hopped about as he clutched at himself and screamed. “Ahhhhh! How is it that you can keep hitting me?!”

The chatty duo also noticed that seven or eight bullet holes had appeared in the guy’s upper torso, and he was bleeding non-stop.

The strange thing was that despite being shot in the chest and stomach, the driver was still full of energy as he screamed in pain.

Thinking about Luke’s words, Michael raised his gun.

Pa! Pa! Pa! Pa!

He emptied his clip, but wasn’t in a hurry to check his results. Instead, he turned to look to the side. “WTF?”

Kincaid was leaning against the side of his head, a gun in his hand.

But Michael was blocking his line of sight.

Kincaid slapped him in the face. “Don’t block me! Your lousy aim didn’t even hit him!”

Pa! Pa! Pa! Pa!

Kincaid quickly emptied his clip.

Michael sat up and started to mock him. “Wow, your shooting skills are pretty bad too.”

Kincaid: “…I hit him three times, but you only hit him twice. I hit him in the chest and stomach, and you hit him in the arm. Is there a problem with your lousy shooting?”

Speechless, Luke ignored them and got out.

At that moment, the driver, who had more than ten bullet holes in his body, said in disbelief, “That’s impossible. How did you hit me?”

Luke didn’t reply, but was secretly amused.

It wasn’t just Luke; Kincaid and Michael’s fighting strength weren’t ordinary, and their firearms were far better than what ordinary people had.

This driver wanted to dodge all the bullets with his speed. He was really underestimating them.

He wasn’t good enough to dodge bullets, and rather than being able to shoot, it was more normal for him to endure being shot.

Luke flicked his right hand and shook out a retractable rod, before he walked toward the driver who was riddled with bullet holes.

The driver bared his teeth, roared, and lunged forward.

The chatty duo also got out of the car, and Michael hurriedly said, “Whoa, whoa, whoa, how about we sit down and talk it out?”