Ryder takes over the shooting while Koby makes ready to leave. I maneuver Hailey out of the way just as Broadway jumps inside.
Before the door’s fully closed, Koby floors the gas, flying through the gaping hole where the window used to be. We’re swallowed by the dead night, crushing wilted rose bushes under our wheels until we skid onto the driveway and past the gate.
Hailey’s in my lap, straddling my hip, trembling and silent, her head whipping every which way to assess the situation.
“Let the fun begin,” Koby says, glancing in the rearview mirror. “Better put your seatbelts on.”
On cue, a black sedan pulls out behind us—Rhett’s getaway driver with Apollo in the passenger seat. Ten seconds later, two more cars join in—Noretto’s.
Good job we’re prepared for this eventuality. Dark trees blur outside the tinted window as we twist round the woodland path toward the main road at a hundred miles an hour.
Adjusting Hailey in my lap, I whip a seatbelt around us. It clicks in place just as uneven terrain judders the Range Rover. Every move I make is laced with a shadow of fear I can’t control. She’s here, I have her back, but we’re not out of the woods yet... neither literally nor figuratively.
“Where does it hurt?” I ask, frantically skimming her body.
She flinches away, staring at me with wide eyes. “You came.”
I cup her face with both hands and pull her to me, my lips dancing with hers quickly. “I’ll always come for you.” I stamp a kiss on her forehead, then inhale a shaky breath, filling my lungs with her. “You’re okay now. I promise.”
“Seven miles,” Broadway denotes, gripping Koby’s headrest. He leans toward the middle to see the road better. “Don’t get us busted. Ryder, get them on the phone.”
Ryder breaks the previous connections in our earpieces, setting up new ones with the guys waiting at a nearby gas station.
Hailey inches away when the car straightens out, and my eyes are drawn to the crimson staining her arm.
“It’s okay, Nash. It doesn’t hurt, just... burns,” she stammers, pointing to where the bullet hit.
Carter, baby. My name’s Carter.
“Hold on!” Koby booms, slamming the brakes and turning the wheel so fast his hands are just a blur.
My arms snap around Hailey, pinning her against my chest as the ground beneath the wheels shifts from dirt to asphalt. We buck onto the road, the car filling with the stench of burning rubber when Koby floors the gas pedal.
I glance out the back window at the sedans, their headlights following us through the darkness.
“Alright, get ready, boys,” Ryder says into his mouthpiece.
“Put them on speaker,” Broadway demands, his knuckles gouging into Koby’s seat.
I push Hailey away, searching her eyes. “You’re bleeding, pretty girl. I need to see how bad.” Gripping her sleeve under and over the stitching, I tear it off in one hard tug. Using the scrap of fabric, I dab the wound, cleaning the excess blood to get a better look. “It’s just a graze, baby. Not deep. You’ll be okay.”
“Fuck!” Koby yells, slamming the brakes again.
Hailey slams into my chest with a yelp, gripping my sides and pushing her face into the crook of my uninjured shoulder. The sedans whizz past, braking thirty meters later, the unexpected move giving us a few precious seconds.
“We’re taking a short cut,” Koby announces as my phone starts ringing in my back pocket.
Must be Rhett. I can easily picture the rage simmering in his eyes. There was a plan—take Hailey to Cleveland—but I changed it without telling him and now his head must be swimming with possibilities.
He’ll have to wait for a chat, because all I care about is getting Hailey out of here.
“Here, Boss.” Ryder passes over a first aid kit from the glove box. “Put pressure on the wound. You can clean and dress it later.”
I wouldn’t dare patch her up while Koby’s zigzagging on uneven terrain. It’d do more harm than good. Pressing a wad of gauze to the graze, my stomach somersaults back at a hiss from Hailey.
The car swings again, pushing her into me and she stays there, curled into my chest.
“You’re okay,” I whisper in her ear. “It’ll be over soon.”
