The current goal—getting rid of the black Mustang who’s been following Travis and me for the last ten minutes.
The surprise—none.
I knew what I was doing when I snuck out of my bedroom window and climbed onto the roof. It was easier than I thought when I balanced myself onto a tree limb just to get onto the neighbor’s roof, then one more, until I found a spot to climb down and into another backyard.
From there, it was easy as pie.
Cairo paced back and forth, deep in his conversations about lack of time and shit I wasn’t paying attention to.
I climbed a few fences, stayed out of the front yards, and called Travis to come get me in a car that wasn’t his.
Obviously, I wasn’t sure what Hot Rod and Juice had lined up, so I acted like the neighborhood was Fort Knox and slithered my ass out.
The only issue was Travis borrowed someone’s van and it wasn’t going to do the things I wanted it to.
So, I may haveborrowedsomeone’s Honda to scoot around in, and now, I’m testing its limits with the way I’m taking corners.
But hey, the thing can scoot if someone is late to a soccer game.
“Bay, maybe we should call that one guy.”
Which guy?
I have a plethora in all the dark corners of this shithole. And each one of them would be ahell no,because it’d be the same answer—stay in your room and wait.
Or eat.
Or fucking wait some more.
I’m too focused on whoever is trailing us to answer Travis’s question. Their skill set of how to drift around corners—or pure luck—doesn’t leave me with a calm and easy feeling.
I don’t think it’s the latter.
I believe it’s someone who’s fucking on to me.
Obviously.
“You got his location down?” I ask, keeping my eyes on the road as Travis fumbles with his cell.
I continue to gun down the rest of the street and pray to God no one blows a light. I’m not exactly abiding by the laws, and a car accident isn’t on my list of shit to do.
“He’s in the area.” My pulse quickens with equal amounts of excitement and dread. By “in the area,” Travis means Juice is somewhere around here. Travis brilliantly tracked down his phone. “Bay…are you sure Levi would be around here, though?”
I lift my shoulders a bit because, fuck if I know, this was a hunch. I figured either Hot Rod or Juice wouldn’t leave his side and Hot Rod is at the port right now.
“I need you to pinpoint him to a T, Trav,” I reply. “And, when the coast is clear, we’ll investigate.”
“But what if he’s gone by then?”
I dunno. I have zero answers.
However, it’s better than sitting at home and waiting for them when they’re not coming fast enough.
When they’re not coming at all.
“Then we’re fucked.” Travis remains quiet in the passenger seat, and I flick my attention to my rear-view mirror for the millionth time. “If I can lose the dude behind us in the next few minutes, we’re good. We might have a window of time.”
Glancing down at the speedometer, I’m going ninety down a four-lane street. Icouldthrow the gas pedal to the floor and likely outmaneuver this guy, but I think a little hardcore action is in play here.
