“I’m heading to the sheriff’s station. I have a tail.”
Jesse cursed. “What are the details?”
“Gray Charger. Tinted windows. About three hundred feet behind us.”
“Heading to the station now.” He ended the call.
“Zane.” Concern tinged Bonnie’s voice. And he fucking hated it. “Do you think it’s him?”
“More than likely. I need you to open the glove box for me.”
She did.
“At the back there’s a small pistol and a pocketknife. Put the pocketknife in your back pocket and just hold on to the pistol.”
Bonnie grabbed both and did as he said. But he didn’t miss the shake in her fingers. Fuck, he hated that she was with him.
Suddenly, the tail sped up.
Zane cursed, his own engine roaring as he pressed his foot to the floor.
He took a hard left. Bonnie gasped, and he grabbed her arm to keep her from hitting her side window.
“Hold on.” He forced the car faster, surging forward.
Bonnie twisted to look behind them. This time he didn’t stop her. “Shit. They’re getting close, Zane.”
He swerved to the other lane, overtaking a truck. Horns blared from oncoming traffic. Bonnie cried out, but he pulled back into their lane before a collision.
He took another right, but the tail stuck.
Fuck.
“If they box us in,” Zane said, words loud and hard, “shoot first, ask questions later. Got it?”
He shot her a glance to see a jerky nod.
Tires squealed as he cut into a small alley.
He looked at her again. She was pale. Too fucking pale. “You okay?”
“I’m scared for us.”
“We’re almost at the station.”
He pulled back onto the main street.
He checked the rearview mirror, then cursed before shouting, “Duck!”
“What—”
He shoved her head down as bullets peppered the glass at the back of the car.
Bonnie screamed.
He cursed again when the pop of a tire sounded.
Come on!Two more turns and he’d be there.
