Wheels screech as they try to stop, and just when I think Havoc is about to get taken out, it comes to a stop only a millimeter before his legs.
“Get out of the street, you idiot!” the NPC driving shouts, shaking his fist at Havoc.
“Get out of the automobile,” Havoc orders, drawing his sword.
“Get the fuck outta here,” the NPC says. “I ain’t?—”
Locke jerks the door open and drags the NPC out, tossing him to the street. “Sorry,” he says. “We need your moving box.”
The NPC sputters. “I ain’t no quest giver! That’s my automobile! You can’t take it!”
“Get in,” Havoc orders me, pushing me toward the door.
“Watch it,” I growl, shrugging him off before climbing into the front of the car, but not behind the wheel. I have no qualms about giving the control over to someone else. I don’t know how to drive this thing.
Stryker climbs into the back of the car and Havoc follows behind him. Stevie floats in between them, his thousand eyes dancing around in the rings, taking it all in.
“I’ve never ridden in one this old before,” Stevie gushes. “This this is a total antique. So fetch!”
Locke slides into the driver seat and closes the door.
“Hey! Hey! They’re stealing my car!” the NPC shouts. Outside, men in blue uniforms come rushing forward and Locke starts fiddling with the steering wheel.
“You should probably go,” Stryker says, unconcerned.
“No shit,” Locke says, trying to figure out how to move.
“There are pedals,” Havoc says, clearly amused at Locke’s prior confidence before when he can’t even make the thing move. “Go on. It’s easy.”
Locke shoots him a glare and curls his hands around the wheel. “Well . . . here goes nothing,” he tells me, and steps on the pedal.
Nothing happens.
“You gotta put it in gear,” Stryker says. “Even I know that.”
“Put it in?—”
“The stick,” Stryker says. “The one that looks like a bulbous cock.”
Locke grimaces and grabs the stick with a ball on the end of it. He jerks the stick and the car makes a grinding noise.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Stryker says. “Let me drive.”
“I thought you said you never have,” I point out.
“I haven’t,” he grunts. “But I can at least do a better job than the Bone Breaker.”
I glance at Stryker as him and Locke switch spots. “You do anything dangerous, I’ll stab you myself, Leech.”
He flashes his fangs at me. “How sharp is your knife, Beastie?”
“Play games and you’ll find out,” I reply back sweetly.
His chuckle is like a warm blanket around my shoulders. “I’ll get you there, Beastie. And when I do, perhaps, another kiss.”
“You get us there in one piece, I’ll kiss you myself,” I tell him.
His eyes flicker dangerously. “Deal.”
