Page 59 of Wicked Sinner
My pulse starts to beat hard in my throat. I didn’t really believe Caesar when he said someone might want to hurt me. I thought he was bluffing, trying to scare me, trying to make me think that I needed him. But now, seeing the shapes of the men in the car next to us, hearing the honking of traffic as the other SUV winds closer, I feel a sick, cold sensation spread through me.
"Hold on," Marco says grimly, and suddenly we're accelerating, the engine roaring as he pushes the car faster. The SUVs match our speed easily, and it sinks in with growing horror that this isn't a coincidence. Someone is following us. Someone wants to stop us.
"Who are they?" I ask, my voice high and tight with fear.
“Don’t know,” Bryce says sharply, pulling a gun out from behind his back as Marco takes a sharp turn. We’re in a more run-down part of the city, several miles still from my home, and nowhere near the busy downtown of Miami. As Marco turns down another street, the other traffic becomes nonexistent, until it’s only us and the other two cars in pursuit. “But they’re not Caesar’s guys, I can tell you that.”
The SUV that was beside us pulls up again, now driving in the wrong lane on a side street in order to stay abreast of us. It suddenly swerves, slamming into our car with a screech of metal on metal. I'm thrown against the door, my seatbelt cuttinginto my chest as Marco fights to keep us on the road. Pain jolts through me, and fear follows quickly on its heels.
The baby. Oh God, the baby.
"Call for backup," Marco shouts to Bryce, but before Bryce can respond, the windshield explodes in a shower of glass. Blood blooms across Bryce's chest, and he slumps forward, his gun clattering to the floor.
I can’t stop the scream that tears from my lips, high and terrified. My ears are ringing, and the air smells like blood now, a thick copper scent that I can taste on my tongue. It feels like my world is coming apart at the seams—I’ve seen someone die before, but never like this.
My father’s death was its own kind of violence, cancer eating his body from the inside out, but this is different. Bryce sags forward in his seatbelt, and I can see blood everywhere, can’t reconcile that a moment ago he was talking, and now he’s dead.
Marco curses, trying to drive and reach for his own weapon at the same time. The car swerves wildly, and I can hear more gunshots, can feel the vehicle shuddering as bullets punch through the metal.
"Get down!" Marco yells at me, but it's too late. Something slams into the side of his head, jerking it sideways as his window shatters, and suddenly we're spinning, the world outside the windows becoming a blur of asphalt and sky.
The car slams against a tree, and the impact throws me forward against the seat in front of me. Pain explodes through my ribs, my seatbelt holding me in place, and I can’t breathe from the impact. I can’t think. For a moment, everything is spinning, and I stare ahead, unable to take it all in.
When my vision clears, the car has stopped. Steam is rising from the crumpled hood, and there's blood on the dashboard, on the seats, all over the front of the car. Marco is slumped overthe steering wheel, not moving. Bryce is definitely dead, his eyes staring sightlessly at nothing.
I'm alone.
My head is spinning, my ears are ringing. I don’t know if I could stand up if I tried. Everything feels strange and woozy. I hear the sound of car doors slamming, cutting through the ringing in my ears, and I realize that my attackers are getting out of their vehicles. They're coming for me. Whatever they want, whoever they are, they're not done yet.
My hands shake as I fumble for the phone Caesar gave me, the one with his number programmed in. I grab for my seatbelt with the other hand, praying it’s not jammed. Relief floods me as it clicks free, and I scramble for the door that isn’t blocked by the tree, hoping I can get out and run before whoever is out there can catch me. Caesar can follow the signal on the phone, I’m sure of that. And I’m also sure that, however I might feel about him, he’ll come and find me.
I just have to get away.
I need Caesar.
The thought makes my stomach twist, but I don't have a choice. I'm trapped in a car with two dead men, myself possibly injured, with armed attackers closing in on me. I need help, and Caesar is the only person I know for certain can provide it.
The door snaps open just as I find his contact in the phone, and I scramble backwards as a man in black fatigues with his face covered lunges for me, grabbing for my arm.
I kick out, hard, clinging to the phone with one hand as I look for another way out. I’m no experienced fighter, but my dad taught me how to defend myself when I was a teenager, and I’m not leaving this car with them without a fight.
The back. If I get across the seats, maybe I can open the back hatch and scramble out that way. I start to push myself up andover the seat that I’m in, toward the second row behind me, but before I can I feel a rough hand grab my ankle and yank me back.
I scream, sliding backwards, and I kick out with my other foot, connecting with his jaw. He grunts, losing his grip on me for just a moment, and I take my chance.
I scramble over the seats, frantically jabbing at Caesar’s contact on the screen as I scramble over the second row. The phone rings, and I hear him answer.
“Bridget? Is everything?—”
"They killed them," I gasp, my voice breaking. "Marco and Bryce are dead, and they're coming for me. I don't know who they are, but they're?—”
The back hatch is wrenched open just as I reach it, two men blocking my exit. They grab me, dragging me out of the wreckage. I scream, clutching the phone, trying to fight back as they pull me toward one of the SUVs.
"Bridget!" Caesar's voice is frantic now, shouting through the phone's speaker. "Where are you? Bridget, answer me!"
“I don’t know!” I scream. I’m twisting in their grip, trying to get away. I throw my head back, trying to headbutt the man behind me. “Outside of the city?—”
The phone is snatched away, stomped beneath a heavy boot. I scream again, shouting for help as I jerk and writhe, twisting to try to bite at a hand that grabs my hair. One of the men hits me, a sharp blow to the side of my head that makes stars explode across my vision.
