“He’s going to get himself killed,” I cry, covering my mouth with my hand.
Cruz pulls me closer to him. “He knows how to handle her.”
“You’re going to pay for that,” she sneers, but her voice is weak, and she makes no attempt to shoot him or Asher.
He gives her a little nod, his eyes never wavering from her for a second. And even though she still has her gun drawn, she slowly backs toward her car.
Asher moves into the driver’s seat of our car and kicks the engine into overdrive.
Jagger keeps his gun aimed at her as he slithers back into our car, taking quick backwards steps around to the passenger side. “Go,” is all he says, and Asher takes off up the road right as two Army-style black Jeeps come into view behind us.
“We have company,” Cruz calls. “Fuck, darlin’, you were right.” He sounds surprised, even though he backed me up.
My heart races so damn hard I can hear it. This is what I was afraid of. “I know my brother. Blackmail is his specialty, learned that shit from my papa. They have something over her, that’s why she’s pressing so hard for you to hand me over to her. You do and she will give me straight to them.”
“No one is handing you over,” Asher says, glancing in the rearview mirror. “Whatever it is must be bad.”
“She has a fucked-up past. If it gets out, she’ll lose her job,” Jagger grumbles. “I don’t know how they worked it out, but she always knew she was living on borrowed time if the information got into the wrong hands.”
“Why did she tell you?”
I don’t have to see his glare, I can feel it. “She trusted me.”
I don’t ask why. Maybe the reality of that answer is more than I can handle because I know for her to have trusted Jagger withinformation like that, what they had was more serious than he ever let on. It also makes me feel sick because I saw the way he treated her. It was jarring. Will he do the same to me when he’s sick of me?
Asher drives like a crazy person, swerving around cars and jumping in and out of lanes, but it doesn’t seem to matter what he does, the two four-wheelers rapidly close in on us.
“Get down, flower,” Jagger warns as he winds down his window.
I duck my head right as Cruz opens his window as well. From their position, they aim shots toward the cars, the air thick with the smell of gunpowder and adrenaline. The deafening sound of shattering glass pierces my ears, and instinctively, my hands fly up to cover them, praying that we get out of this okay. I peer up at Cruz, watching his powerful arms flex as he takes shot after shot.
The screech of tires is followed by a deafening explosion, which sounds like a car has collided with something solid like a tree. “One down, baby, one more to go.” Cruz chuckles playfully. Anyone watching him would have thought he was immersed in a video game, not experiencing this in the real world. For a split second, I wish I was more like him. Carefree and so alive it didn’t matter what life threw at me or how fucked up my situation got. But this is life and death, and we might not survive.
My body trembles as I stare at him. From my position lying down, I can’t make out anything else. All I have is Cruz to keep me here in the present when my body threatens to pass the hell out. But I suck in breaths and watch his confidence.
All of a sudden there is the crunch of metal on metal, and our car is propelled forward. Both Jagger and Cruz duck inside the car again, gripping on tightly as we spin and Asher tries to regain control. They must have hit us from behind.
“Now, Asher,” Jagger calls to him.
Asher abruptly pulls the handbrake, and the car does a one-eighty.
Nausea churns, and my heart lurches out of my chest as I grip onto the seat, my nails digging into the leather.
With a roar, our car surges forward, and Jagger and Cruz resume their posts by the windows, unleashing a torrent of gunfire on the now oncoming vehicle.
More shattering glass as our front windshield shatters, a scream of pure terror rips from me. I glance up right as we pass the black Jeep, and Cruz fires his gun at the driver. His head explodes as the car veers off the road, hits a tree, and bursts into flames.
“Two down. Woo-hoo!” Cruz cheers, and he plops back down into his seat. “Sweet driving, bro. Loved the one-eighty.”
Asher holds out a hand, and the two of them high-five. “I got your back.”
Cruz wastes no time in pulling me into his arms, cradling me like a child.
“We could have died,” I mutter, trying to catch my breath as I grip onto him.
“Yeah, but we didn’t, so it’s time to celebrate.”
Jagger rakes his fingers through his hair. “Not yet, brother, we have a rogue cop to deal with.”
