Page 102 of Coast

I was probably asking for a sleepless night, letting her nap before her official bedtime. But she’d had a busy day of being played with and loved on. She’d missed two of her naps, so she had to be running on fumes.

I drove down a residential street of houses that got bigger and bigger as I drove.

Little matchstick-box-sized, half-dead front yards morphed into sprawling, meticulously maintained lawns that had to cost a small fortune to maintain. Little starter homes became luxury estates.

“We’re in a different tax bracket out here, that’s for sure,” I told Lainey. But she was already out cold.

I turned into the driveway when the GPS told me to, putting the car in park, but leaving the engine running, so the AC would be cranking for my heat-hating girl.

I’d just grabbed the food out of the passenger side and was glancing at my app on the phone when I saw it.

Black car.

Dark tint.

I tried to reason with myself. Plenty of people drove black cars. And lots of people liked to have tint to guard against the relentless summer sun in Florida.

But something had my stomach tightening, had my gaze shifting around.

And thank God for that.

Because if I’d walked up to that door, they would have grabbed me.

Two men.

Standing in the shadows near the corner of the driveway.

I didn’t stop to think.

I dropped the bag.

I ran to my car.

My blood was surging through my veins, making my heart slam so hard against my ribcage that it made me instantly nauseated.

But there was no time to worry about that.

They were already jumping into action, rushing at me from both sides.

I threw myself into the passenger side of the car, hitting the lock buttons, then climbing over the center console.

A hand banged against the window that was just barely being held together by tape.

But that wasn’t what had my stomach falling out.

No.

It was the man reaching for a gun right near the rear passenger side.

Right near my baby.

I threw the car in reverse, slamming so hard on the accelerator that the tires spun for a second before gaining traction.

The driveway was too winding to reverse at full speed, so I whipped the car into a whiplash-inducing K-turn before speeding back down the driveway.

“No no no no no,” I whimpered as I saw the metal gates slowly starting to move. “Fuck. Okay. Hold on, baby,” I said,nerves skittering as I reached to click my seatbelt on, worrying we were about to try to burst through them.

But they were slow-moving gates. And there was barely enough room for the car to move through, the wrought iron scratching against the sides of the car as we went, the sound making Lainey wake up with a whimper.

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