I don’t hang up the phone because whatever happens next, there should be a record of it.
“Cat, do you have another clip somewhere?”
“Back pocket of the seat,” Cat jerks her head backward. That’s as much as she can move.
I reach toward the back of the driver’s seat. I can’t get to the pocket. Not while being strapped in. I tuck the gun between my knees so I’ll have both hands free to cut the seatbelt.
Adrenaline is speeding through my system, and I know I only have a few seconds before whoever is shooting at us comes over to see if we survived the crash.
My hands frantically move over the seatbelt against my lap. I cut through the seatbelt at my right hip, where the belt meets the car. Within moments, I hear a rip as the seatbelt comes free. That loosens up the strap around my chest, and I grab onto it as I slide it out of the way. I don’t want to fall on my sister and worsen her injuries.
I slide the gun into the back of my pants as I kneel on the console, reaching for the extra clip in the back pocket.
“You find it?” Cat whispers.
I only nod. It’s too quiet outside of the car. I place the phone in a pocket on Cat’s shirt and motion toward the back window. She nods back, letting me know she understands what I’m about to do.
I pick my way through the wreckage of the sideways car and manage to climb through the busted back window. My hands are red and bleeding from crawling over the broken glass, but it’s a small price to pay to save our lives. I’d worry about cuts and scrapes later.
I’m about to pop around the car when a voice calls out in singsong to me.
“Mell-ie! Oh, MELL-IE! Come out, come out, wherever you are,” Dakota Helfinger’s voice makes me instantly ill. I was going to kill that motherfucker.
I pull out my weapon and grab it with both hands. I crab walk to the edge of the car, so I can peek at what’s happening.
“Why would I do that, you shitstain?”
“Because I have something you want,” Dakota sings back. “Go ahead, kid, tell her what she’s won.”
I’m crouching on twigs and leaves on the side of the road when I hear, “Cam?”
My heart falls.
Fuck!
“Ryan?”
“Um, yeah.”
“Now, be a good girl and come out from behind the car, and maybe I won’t kill your little friend here,” Dakota yells.
I consider my options. I don’t hear sirens over the loud rumbling from the diesel engine in the dump truck. Flamingo Cove is far enough away that it will take police a little longer to get here.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“I don’t have all day,Cam-mellie-uh, so get your sweet ass out from behind the car, or it’s bye-bye, lover-boy,” Dakota threatens.
I need to stall.
I tuck the gun back into my pants, raise my hands, and stand up slowly. My muscles protest after lying in a hospital bed for days. “Okay, Dakota, I’m coming out. Don’t shoot. Let’s talk about this.”
As I clear the car, I see Dakota is standing behind Ryan with a gun pointed at his temple.
“Dakota, let the kid go. He means nothing to me,” I glare at Ryan, silently urging him to stay quiet.
Dakota moves his head back and forth as if he’s considering it, then shakes his head. “Nope. I don’t think so. Kid stays.”
“Why? Why bother? You wanted me. Now, you got me. Let him go,” I inch toward Dakota.
