Page 142 of Highball Rush
I pressed on the gas, and we raced down my half-mile dive toward the road. Headlights flashed behind us.
“Stay down.”
I whipped around the turn onto the road and gunned it to go faster, my foot lead on the gas pedal. Taking the corners as fast as I dared, I headed down. Up the mountain didn’t lead anywhere. We’d wind up stuck on some dead-end dirt road in the middle of nowhere with a fucking psycho killer. Not smart.
So I raced toward town, the wind whipping through the cab, but the nutjob behind us matched my speed. She pulled up on a straight stretch, close enough to nudge my bumper. I held the steering wheel in a tight grip, keeping control. My eyes darted between the dark road and my rear-view mirror. I couldn’t outrun her. My truck was sturdy and reliable, but not fast. Rocky’s truck had me on speed, and Imogen drove with the limitless aggression of an evil psychopath.
“Brace yourself.”
Cash yipped and Callie held on as best she could. Instead of leading this chase through town, I downshifted and yanked on the steering wheel, whipping us around in an almost U-turn onto the highway.
My foot slammed the gas pedal down, the force pushing me back in the seat. For a second, I thought we’d gotten away. She hadn’t made the turn.
Then headlights appeared in my rear-view, closing in on us fast. The road curved and started climbing again. Maybe I could outrun her on the corners. Put enough space between us that I could turn off the highway onto a dirt road. Get into the trees, hit the lights, and she’d drive right by.
My jaw clenched with resolve, I kept my hands tight on the wheel and raced down the highway. Took the first corner so fast that the tires squealed.
We gained a little ground on the next turn, but she caught up when the highway straightened. I adjusted my grip on the steering wheel. Another corner was coming up fast. There were two more right after, a series of hairpin turns before the highway sloped down. This was our chance. I just had to keep us on the road.
I took the first corner, tires screaming. She matched my speed, her bumper right on mine. Leaning hard, I kept my foot on the gas and flew around the second turn, coming close to the guardrail.
Jerking forward, I almost hit my face on the steering wheel. She’d hit us from behind. The tires spun, the truck circling wildly. I fought the force of the impact, wrestling the wheel for control, feeling us spin. If we went over the side, we were dead. Callie was on the floor; she wasn’t even buckled in.
I strained against the steering wheel, against the force of the truck spinning toward the cliff. Gritted my teeth and held on for dear life. For my life and my girl’s.
Especially hers. I wasn’t going to lose her now.
The tires caught traction and we jerked hard in the other direction. I heard a sickening crunch of metal and for half a second, I thought we’d hit the guardrail and were about to go over the side. Everything was dark and spinning, headlights flashing across the trees.
Finally, we stopped. My heart raced, pumping massive amounts of adrenaline through my veins. We hadn’t hit the rail. We were in the middle of the road, facing the way we’d come.
Imogen Kendall’s stolen truck was nowhere to be seen. The guardrail on the cliff-side of the highway was torn open, the metal bent and twisted.
Callie looked up at me from her spot on the floor, her eyes big and wide. She had her body wrapped around Cash, her arms out to brace herself against the cab.
Everything was eerily silent. I looked around in every direction. No sign of the truck. It was like it had been a ghost, or a figment of our imagination, vanishing without a trace.
“Are you okay?” I grabbed for Callie, helping her into the seat. Touched her face, her arms, looking for damage. “Let me look at you. Are you hurt?”
“I don’t think so.” She looked out the windows, shifting in the seat to see out the back. “Bruises, maybe. Where is she?”
Cash jumped up in the seat and licked her face. She hugged him against her.
“I don’t know. Stay here.”
I opened the door, straining to hear… anything. An engine. A voice. Some sign of where she’d gone. I was pretty sure I knew, but I didn’t want to take any chances.
Stepping out, I grabbed a flashlight I kept under the seat. Turned it on and swung the beam of light around. The other truck was gone.
There was a gaping hole in the guardrail on the side of the highway. I’d seen it look like this once before. We weren’t far from where my mother had crashed—where Imogen Kendall had driven her off the road.
Taking slow steps, my body tense, I approached the guardrail. The land sloped down dramatically, almost a sheer cliff. I swung the narrow beam from my flashlight down.
Rocky’s truck lay at the bottom, wrapped sideways around a thick tree. The driver’s side was completely caved in, the top smashed like it had rolled several times on the way down.
There was no way anyone could have survived that crash, but I searched the area anyway. A woman like that could have very well made a deal with the devil. I wasn’t taking any chances when it came to Callie.
Nothing. No sign that she’d gotten out of the truck. Besides, the cab was crushed.
