Page 91 of Between Passion and Revenge: Part Two
“Pourquoi?” The question bursts from my lips. I don’t know if it’s because I’m already paranoid or because this is the strangest traffic stop I’ve been in, but the office has me on edge.
Or maybe it’s because you’re running away from your children’s father like you’re in the movieEnough, in a foreign country, in the dark at the ass-crack of dawn.
“Porquoi? Parce que je l'ai dit,” he snaps, his voice like frost.Because I said so.
Well, hell.
I put my hands on the steering wheel like he initially instructed, and after staring at me hard for a long moment, he walks back toward his car.
Something is wrong. Something isverywrong.
“Yenn?” I whisper, hoping she caught the conversation and wishing she were sitting right next to me. At least I’d have a physical witness.
“This ain’t right,” Yennifer murmurs, confirming my paranoia.
“I know,” I mutter. “Do you think it’s Storm? Do you think he sent them to—” I suck in a breath when tears and nausea war in my chest, both clogging my throat.
“I don’t know,” Yennifer says, her voice hard. Just then, a black SUV with dark windows drives past slowly.
Much more slowly than is called for to respect the traffic stop.
My eyes follow the vehicle, and I’m on high alert until it disappears from view.
I want to say more to my best friend, but I stop, all my attention going to the side mirror. Another black SUV ambles up the highway toward my stopped vehicle.
“Okay, don’t panic,” I whisper to Yennifer, but more to myself. “I think some shit is about to go down.”
“What the hell do you mean?” Her edgy voice filled with dread. I don’t answer her for fear I might lose my shit completely.
The SUV rolls to a complete stop this time, and in the blinding lights, I can’t make out much except for two figures exiting the vehicle and walking toward the officer.
My foot hovers over the brake, my finger poised right above the ignition button.
“Yenn,” I rasp, then in the side mirror I see?—
Pop-pop-pop!
I don’t stop to stare at the fallen police officer or the men rushing toward my vehicle. I start the ignition and slam the car into drive, taking off into traffic like a bat out of hell.
“Shae! What the hell’s going on!” Yenn screams, a sharp, panicked sound.
“They just shot him!” I scream, putting the pedal all the way to the floor and zooming over seventy miles per hour in under ten seconds.
The sun starts hitting the horizon, and all my attention goes toward finding somewhere safe to hide.
“Call King!” I rasp, realizing all the windows are still down, and that’s why everything sounds so loud in the car. But before I can roll the windows up, the unmistakable sound of a powerful engine revving has me looking for the source.
I’m too late—a dark vehicle rams into the back of the tiny luxury sedan.
“Shit! I’m being rammed!”
“I’ve got your location, Shae! Get off the highway! You gotta lose them!” Yennifer shouts, and I’m grateful we still share location with each other on our phones.
I jerk the car to the right and off the graded slope of earth leading to a side road. The wheels hit the new pavement with a deafeningthunk, and I swerve in front of a late-model Toyota. The driver honks, laying on the horn, but I keep my eyes on the road.
People. I need to get into a crowded area around people.
“This can’t be Storm. He wouldn’t do this, Shae,” Yennifer yells.
