I should slow down, but I have no idea how close Simon’s men are. For ten hours, I’ve pushed the Lexus as fast as I dared, only stopping twice for gas. And to pee. Simon won’t report the car stolen, but he’ll track it—and me. Will he send Brix? And Matteo? And Tommy? Or call any one of the dozens of cops he has on his payroll?
It doesn’t matter. Whoever he sends will make me wish I were dead.
I spare a glance at the dashboard. The temperature’s dropped twenty degrees in the past hour. It might be spring on the calendar, but Washington State hasn’t gotten the message yet.
My left arm throbs where Brix sunk his blade deep into my bicep. The strip of the gas station t-shirt helped stop the bleeding, but it still burns with every beat of my heart.
If only my thigh felt the same. It’s mostly numb, and that can’t be a good thing.
Lights flash in front of me, and I squint through the snow.
Hazardous Conditions Ahead.
Road Closed.
Exit Now.
“Shit.”
No highway patrol cars, so I veer off the highway onto a mountain road. I hope the navigation system on the SUV is right about it rejoining I-90 in two miles. It’s a huge risk and the road is bumpy as hell, but I don’t have a choice. I’m still in the middle of nowhere, and if I stop, I die.
An hour of white-knuckling the steering wheel and I’m back on the interstate, but the weather’s even worse now. Sleet hits the windshield in staccato bursts, making it difficult to see, and giant storm clouds rise to the heavens.
Accelerating out of a turn, I clench my jaw, my muscles screaming with how tightly I’m wound. How much longer until they find me?
Once I get to Seattle, I can dump the car and disappear. But until then...
Just keep driving. As fast as you can.
The back end of the SUV fishtails. “Shiiiiitt.”
I manage to get the car under control seconds before bright lights flash behind me.
Oh, God. The road’s closed. There shouldn’t be anyone else out here.
I floor it, but the lights only get brighter. A plink hits the back window, and it turns into a spiderweb of cracked glass.
With a hole in it.
Oh, God. It’s Brix. And he’s shooting at me.
And then there’s a loud pop. One of the rear tires wobbles. The SUV starts to spin.
Panic chokes me, and no matter how I turn the steering wheel, I can’t get it under control. More sharp plinks to the side of the car. My left arm explodes in fresh agony. Blood splatters my cheek. Cold air whistles through a round hole in the driver’s side window.
Before I can freak the fuck out about getting shot, the bottom drops out from under me, and I’m flying. Rolling. The world turns into a slow-motion video. Branches hit on all sides. White clumps of snow fly off the trees. The airbag deploys with a whoosh, hitting me square in the face.
I can’t see. With my good arm, I bat at the deflating nylon. Still rolling. Sliding. It’s so loud. Then almost…silent.
When the SUV stops, it’s so sudden, my entire body jerks against the seatbelt. I’m…sideways. Lying against the door, the window above me shattered. The vehicle is rocking back and forth. Like some fucked-up teeter-totter.
The pain in my arm is almost overwhelming. Blood soaks into my sweater, so much it trails down my neck. Part of the windshield is caved in, and the airbag drapes over the steering wheel. Droplets of icy water pelt my cheek as the wind tears through the car.
I can’t move. The seatbelt won’t unlock. Everything hurts. I’m so dizzy, and the lights on the dashboard start to flicker. Where are Simon’s men? Above me? Back on the highway? Can they see me down here? Do they know I’m still alive? If they do, I won’t stay that way for long.
A wet tendril of hair falls over my eyes as I turn my head, and I struggle to brush it away. Even the smallest movements feel like I’m underwater, or wearing a shirt that weighs fifty pounds.
Stop the bleeding. Or you die.
