Page 63 of Baja
“Nash, what are you doing?” Lily cries, her hands clutching the door.
“Lily, I need you to listen to me.” My voice is raw but firm. “When I slow down, you need to jump. Then, yourun. Don’t stop. Don’t look back. You got me?”
She shakes her head, tears streaming down her face. “No! I’m not leaving you.”
“If it’s who I’m thinkin’ it is, yes, you will.” My voice cracks, the pain in my side flaring with every breath and jolt of the car. “If you want you and the baby to live, you will do as I say.” Her sobs tear at me, and I know if there’s a chance in hell to save one of us, I’ll make damn sure it’s Lily and the baby.
I keep going, seeing no sign of the black car through the thick dust cloud behind us, so I slow the car just enough. “Now, Lily! Gonow!” I shout.
She hesitates, gripping the door handle.
“Go!”
She shoots me one final glance, terror carved into her features, then bursts through the door and leaps. I watch her tumble, then scramble into the shadow of the trees, praying like hell that the cloud of dust kicked up by the car will cloak her escape.
I slam the pedal to the floor again, my vision blurring from the searing pain coursing through my side. The dirt road dissolves into a hazy blur, but I push on, heart pounding, until the tires reach asphalt. Suddenly, that black SUV is back, and with brutal force, colliding with me like a freight train.
The world tilts violently, spinning out of control as the car flips. Metal screams in protest, the deafening sound tearing through the chaos, while shards of glass explode around me in a lethal, glittering spray. My body is thrown violently against the door, then into the ceiling. The seatbelt constricts around my shoulder like a merciless vice as chaos unleashes all around me.
The car finally skids to a stop on its side, and everything stills, except for the ringing in my ears and the metallic tang of blood in my mouth.
The stench of gasoline hangs heavy in the air, suffocating me, and I can feel a cough clawing its way up my throat. Smoke creeps into the cabin, curling around me, and I scramble desperately to free myself, fumbling with the seatbelt. “Fuck! Come on,” I growl, my vision narrowing. Finally, I unclip it, falling onto my side and crawling toward the shattered windshield.
As I’m halfway out of the wreckage, a heavy boot crashes down on my hand, locking me in place. I glance up, and dreadsettles in my stomach. That face—I’ve seen it before.Havoc, the president of the Phantom Riders—the club Lily fled from.
“Nighty night, motherfucker,” he sneers, raising a gun.
The last thing I feel is the sharp crack of metal against my skull, and then everything goes black.
21
ALICE
The tires of Juniper’s jeep screech against the asphalt as she brings the vehicle to a stop. I push open the front passenger door and jump out. Caroline, Jenson, and Lucy, who hitched a ride with us, climb out of the back seat when Salem comes barreling down the gravel driveway. Behind him is Ophelia in her truck, followed by Mystic and Harlem.
I sigh in relief when I see Sukie with him, then rush to her side, pulling her in for a hug. “Do you know what’s going on?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “No. Things were fine earlier. I was hanging out with the girls at the event and having a good time when Salem got a call. I watched as his whole demeanor changed, and suddenly, he was barking orders and telling everyone toget to the clubhouse.”
“I want everyone inside now,” Salem bellows.
I watch as Sage rushes over to Ophelia’s truck. She opens the back passenger door to retrieve her and Salem’s little girl. Ophelia grabs Lorelei, and Juniper quickly approaches to help Sage. Meanwhile, Sukie and I follow Harlem into the clubhouse with Caroline and Jenson on our heels. Once inside, I scan theroom expecting to see Lily and Nash, but then it hit me—his parents’ rental car was not outside.
I turn to his parents. “You heard from Nash? He and Lily should have been here by now.”
Caroline’s forehead furrows. “They’re not here? But they left the hospital before us.”
Beside her, Jenson pulls out his phone, taps the screen, and puts it to his ear. “Straight to voicemail.”
“Maybe he texted me.” I rummage through my purse for my cell. When I look at the screen, there are no texts or missed call indicators. “Nothing.”
“Maybe they stopped by the store or something,” Caroline suggests.
“Maybe,” I murmur. Like Jenson, I try to contact Nash, but my call goes straight to voicemail. Caroline eyes me, her expression hopeful, but she frowns the moment I shake my head.
An unsettling feeling washes over me.
Something isn’t right.
