The Charger lurched forward. Backed off.
"Don't like this dance." Kawan shifted his gaze from the review to the road and back again.
The Charger lunged left. Engine roaring. Windows flashing like black mirrors as the vehicle roared past.
It swerved hard. Cut in front. Inches to spare.
"Motherfucker." Kawan yanked the wheel. The SUV jerked right, tires hitting the rumble strip. Gravel exploded against the undercarriage.
The Charger sped off—but not for long. Brakes locked. Tires screaming.
Kawan slammed his foot down, steering hard. The SUV swerved, sliding sideways, then steadied. "Asshole."
The Charger shot forward again, fishtailing for effect, kicking up a cloud of dust and rock that pelted their windshield.
"Class act." Lark pressed the phone to her ear. "Hey—it's Lark. Specs there?" A pause. "Oh. Okay. Well, can you run this plate: Golf-Seven-Four-Charlie-Kilo-Tango-Zero-One."
Kawan risked a glance her way as she ended the call. "Jupiter or Ry?"
"Jupiter. But he's with Ry."
He exhaled, trying to calm the pulse hammering in his ears. "You know how I feel about coincidences."
"Yeah." Lark shoved her phone into her thigh holster. "They're a bad rash."
Ahead, the black Charger suddenly veered off the pavement—onto what looked like a dirt access road. No signal. No brake lights. Just a last flash of taillights and dust.
"What the fuck..." Kawan slowed. "Keep your eyes on that car."
Lark pressed a hand to the window, straining to see through the glare and haze. "All I see is dust, that sign, and tall brush. I don’t see the vehicle."
"I have no idea where that road leads. It could be a ranch road. Could be a goddamn trap." He gritted his teeth. "We're not following."
"Didn't think we were."
He accelerated, trying to keep his breathing even.
Then—without warning—the Charger shot out from a narrow side road from behind the signage, slicing across both lanes like a missile.
"Son of a—" Kawan cranked the wheel left. The SUV skidded hard. Tires screaming. Rubber peeling across pavement.
They spun once—twice. Lark gripped the dashboard. Her body lurched with the G-force.
The rear clipped gravel. Dust exploded. The front end slammed into the guardrail with a metallic crunch, thenbounced off, jolting to a stop at a skewed angle across the shoulder.
Silence filled the vehicle.
Lark breathed hard, wild-eyed. "Are you okay?"
Kawan's chest heaved. "Just pissed. You?"
"Same." She flexed her fingers, pressing her palms against her thighs and dragging them down in sharp, agitated strokes. "That wasn't a scare tactic. That was a message."
"No kidding."
He popped his seatbelt, grabbed the Glock from under his seat that Brick made sure would be there, and shoved open the door.
Hot, humid air hit him. He moved in a wide arc around the vehicle, scanning the road, finger resting alongside the trigger guard.
