Another burst of speed. The sedan stayed with us.
My breathing came shallow and fast, panic clawing at the edges of my vision. This wasn’t like before. This time I wasn’t bound. I wasn’t alone. But fear didn’t care about logic.
“Hey,” Crowe said sharply.
I focused on his voice, dragged my attention back. “What?”
“Breathe for me,” he said.
“I… okay.” I inhaled deeply and then let it out.
“Good. Keep doing that.”
Traffic was heavier on the interstate than it had been on the side road, and Crowe threaded us through like he’d planned it that way, using other cars as shields. Horns blared. Someone yelled.
The sedan surged forward again, reckless now, almost clipping the bumper of the car behind us to stay close.
My blood went cold. “They’re not backing off.”
“No, they know we spotted them,” he agreed grimly. “They’re escalating.”
My chest tightened, old memories pressing in, sharp and unwelcome. Basements. Concrete. Darkness.
“Jackson,” I whispered. “Please don’t let them take me.”
“I won’t, Noah. I won’t let them touch you.”
The highway stretched open ahead of us, lanes blurring as Jackson drove god only knows how fast, weaving his way around the cars on the interstate. Seriously, where was a state trooper when you needed one?
I didn’t know what came next. I didn’t know how far this would go before they lost patience and tried to wreck us or something. But I knew one thing with absolute clarity. The sedan was still there. They were still following us no matter how fast we went.
Crowe exhaled slowly. “All right,” he said. “We’re changing plans.”
I gripped the edge of the seat. “What does that mean?”
“It means we’re not going to HQ.”
My stomach dipped. “Where are we going?”
“Someplace closer. I don’t like being out here on the open road like this without backup,” he said. “We just need to lose them first.”
We passed a flashing sign that said road construction ahead and he cursed. “Shit. That’s either just what we need or a major complication. The good news is there won’t be anyone working out here on a Saturday.”
We flew by signs saying the speed limit was getting lower, and sure enough, traffic was starting to back up, but Jackson didn’tslow down. He moved off onto the shoulder and blew by the line of traffic. People honked their horns, and I saw more than one person flip him the bird.
The sedan had tried to follow Jackson’s lead and move off to the side, as well. The guy in the RAM pickup that had flipped us off wasn’t letting a second car do the same thing, so he moved over to the right, blocking them. I cringed as the sedan barreled toward them, sure they’d crash. At the last second, they whipped to the right, hitting the gravel, and spun. The car did a 180, jerking to a stop facing the other way.
“Hell yeah,” Jackson said, giving me a satisfied grin as he blew by another handful of cars. “Thank fuck for big trucks with road rage. That guy wasn’t letting them get around him.”
Gravel was flying up behind us, and it looked like we might actually get away until we went around a curve, and a trailer-mounted construction sign announcing a detour ahead came out of nowhere, completely blocking the shoulder.
“Look out,” I yelled, gripping the seat and bracing for a collision.
Jackson didn’t say a word. He just wrenched the wheel to the right, and we went off the road around the sign. When we hit the grass, the car fishtailed. I held my breath, afraid we were going to spin like the sedan had earlier, but Jackson calmly steered the car through the grass and back up onto the shoulder.
I took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Where did you learn to drive like that?”
“Let’s just chalk it up to a misspent youth,” he said with a chuckle.
