Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 77106 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77106 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
I didn’t look.
I couldn’t.
I just dropped a now-screaming Lainey into her seat.
My hands were shaking so hard that I was having trouble pushing her clasp into place, then shoving the metal clips into the buckle.
The car lurched as one of the men reached for the door so hard that the car jostled.
I wasn’t proud of the noise that escaped me then—half cry, half scream.
There was no time to tighten Lainey’s buckles down.
But if this was going to end in some sort of high-speed chase—and possible accident—I couldn’t risk not tightening her.
As I fumbled with that, the damn keys slid off my finger, clattering down into the wheel well.
“Damnit,” I whimpered, leaning down, feeling around in the dark, my stomach sloshing so hard I was sure I’d be sick all over them before I grabbed them.
A hand slammed into the window.
Once.
Twice.
Five times.
“Stop, stop, stop,” I whimpered.
My fingers finally closed around the chain.
Grabbing it, I crawled between the center console, dropping down into the driver’s seat and stabbing the key into the ignition.
“Get the fucking car,” I heard the man yell from right outside my window.
I saw a flash of metal, and my heart sank as I threw the car into reverse, knowing this was the end, that it was a gun, that he was going to shoot me right through the window, kill me right in front of my daughter.
Something slammed into the corner of the window, making it spiderweb crack.
A cry escaped me as I slammed my foot into the gas.
The car shook wildly as I went up onto the curb, then the sidewalk.
“Shh. Shh,” I called to Lainey, whose blood-curdling screams were making it hard to think, to focus.
My whole body was shaking as my sweaty hand shifted back into drive.
And then there he was.
Right in front of the car.
Staring at me with victorious eyes.
Thinking he’d won.
But he hadn’t won.
And I’d never felt more kindred to Coast as I did right that second.
Because I was driving a weapon.
And I was going to drive it right over the bastard who was threatening me and my baby.
If he died, he died.
I saw his smirk die as he saw the car lurch forward.
He threw his body to the side.
Mostly out of the way.
But I still felt a slam as my car collided with some part of him.
I didn’t know what.
I didn’t care.
All I cared about was that he was out of my way.
There was no time for relief, for a feeling of victory, though.
Because his friend had gone to get the car.
And the absolute last thing I needed was a car chase through the roads of Golden freaking Glades.
One of the several perks to my job, though, was that I knew every single street around the area like the back of my hand.
So I flew down the street, refusing to look in the rearview, to see if I was being followed, knowing that if I was, I would panic, I would make mistakes.
I forced myself to focus, to avoid the next side street because it ended in a dead end. Then the next one too because it only looped back to the same street once again.
The third road was the sweet spot, cutting down out of sight from the side street, then spitting us out on the main drag out of the area.
My hands slipped on the wheel, making me wipe my sweaty palms on my shorts one by one.
“Shh, baby, shh,” I called to the hysterical Lainey. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”
She had to be.
I turned down another street, knowing it ran parallel to the main road and that I could cut back at any time, but it would be more rural, so I could be sure if someone was following me.
What did I do?
Did I drive to the closest police station? Tell them I was being followed?
But what then?
Admit that I’d run one of them over?
What if I’d hurt him?
Killed him?
Could I go to jail? That was vehicular manslaughter, wasn’t it? Did judges even care about extenuating circumstances? Lord knew I wouldn’t be able to afford a lawyer to plead my case. I’d be stuck with an overworked, underpaid public defender who just wanted to clear his desk.
I couldn’t take that chance.
If the guy was dead, he was dead. What good would telling anyone about it be?
I moved up and down several streets, and when no headlights came up behind me, I slowed my pace so I didn’t get pulled over. Then reached over to turn on Lainey’s favorite music. That didn’t make my ears feel like they were bleeding or anything. But at least it calmed her crying.
As I sat at a red light, I tried to figure out where I was going.
Back to the motel?
My mind flashed back to that same room, but with all my belongings strewn about, every drawer overturned.