Reluctantly, Preston accepts it and sticks it in the back of his jeans under his shirt. I’ve only seen people do that in movies. Me? I’d shoot my own ass off.
My husband comes over, cups my face, and plants a swift kiss on my lips. “I’m going to give you a minute alone to say goodbye. I’ll be in the SUV.”
Nodding, I watch him go.
I hop off the bed and face my father. “Well, this is it, I guess.”
“I’m sorry I can’t see you off at the plane.” Ivan glances down at his phone. “Donovan wants to meet at the mall, and I can see he’s already there waiting for me,” he scoffs. “The coward is too scared to see me in private.”
I give him a look. “Gee, I wonder why.”
He snickers and shrugs.
Giving my room another once-over, I thank him for everything he’s doing for us. “Seriously. It means a lot to me to have your support.” I pick up one of the ceramic teddy bears and touch its textured head. “Maybe once it’s safer here, Preston and I can come back. It’s funny that this place sort of feels like home already. I think I would’ve liked growing up here.”
Ivan’s eyes soften, but he’s splitting his attention between me and his phone. His face looks troubled as he swipes up on the screen. “And I would have enjoyed that very much, but you must go now. Loralee Pearson has increased her efforts. There are posts about you and Preston on the internet. How do you kids say these days? Viral. News has gone viral.”
Great. Internet sleuths are the last thing we need right now. Those people can be incredibly tenacious, and for once, I’m glad I don’t have any social media accounts.
“Bye, Ivan.” A hug doesn’t quite feel right, so I awkwardly shake my father’s hand.
Stopping in the doorway on my way out of the room, I take one more good look at the home that could’ve been mine.
But there’s no point on dwelling on the past or hypothetical situations. Because I’ve got a future with the man I love, and that’s all that matters.
I haven’t felt this at peace in a long time. We’re almost in the clear.
Before we left Ivan’s, he gave me backroad directions to the airport. It’s a longer drive—about thirty minutes instead of twenty—but I don’t mind.
I love hearing Rosalie softly hum to the radio with the window cracked, the cool wind whipping through her hair.
“Can you believe this?” she says for the third time, patting the duffle bag at her feet.
It’s full of cash. In addition to letting us keep the stash we already had, Ivan gave us another fifty thousand, with the promise that an account would be set up for us in The Maldives.
“You know what I’d really love to do?” Rosalie holds up a wad of hundreds.
“What’s that?”
“Have sex on a big pile of money.”
I bark out a laugh. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah. We could spread it all out on the bed and just roll around in it naked.”
“As sexy as that sounds, money is covered in bacteria. It sounds like an infection waiting to happen.”
Rosalie drops the bills back into the bag. “Party pooper. Don’t ruin my fantasy.”
“Okay, okay. I would risk E. coli for you.”
She laughs.
Unfortunately, our carefree banter is interrupted by an intruder.
I notice a vehicle in the rearview mirror, and I instantly have a dreadful sinking in my gut.
It’s a black SUV like the one we’re driving. Tinted windows. Blacked-out plates.
Did Ivan forget something? Maybe he had to send one of his guys after us.
“Rosie, check my phone, would you? Any calls or texts?” I try to sound nonchalant, but I must fail because Rosalie looks concerned as she picks up the burner Ivan gave me.
After flipping it open, she snaps it shut and sets it back in the cupholder. “Nothing. Why?”
It wouldn’t be completely out of the ordinary for someone else to take this route, but the vehicle behind us is getting closer. Fast. I’m already pushing sixty miles per hour on a bumpy country road that isn’t meant for high speeds, so whoever’s behind us is booking it.
Noticing the way I keep glancing in the mirror, Rosalie turns to look behind us. Her eyes go wide, because now the asshole is right there, way too close for comfort.
It can’t be Ivan. He wouldn’t gain our trust just to hunt us down when we least expect it. He wouldn’t do that to Rosalie, and he wouldn’t endanger her. Plus, if he wanted me out of the picture, he would’ve done it in the privacy of his own home.
I don’t believe this is random either. They’re after us.
Choices, choices. Go faster or slow down?
There are no side streets for me to take to try to lose them. We’re still ten minutes from the airport.
Suddenly, the SUV speeds up and tries to pass us on the left. I veer over a little to give them some room, but instead of going ahead of me, the vehicle gets closer, crowding me into the ditch.
“Shit.” I hit the gas to get ahead of them and swerve back onto the road.
“What the hell is going on?” Rosalie asks, right before they speed up and ram our bumper.
She shrieks.
“Fuck.” My hands tighten on the wheel as I try to maintain control of the vehicle.
Hyperventilating, Rosalie makes a grabby motion at me. “Quick, give me the gun.”
“What are you gonna do, baby? Hang out the window and shoot at him?”
“If I have to!”
Grunting, I jerk the wheel to avoid a deep pothole, because if we hit a dip going this fast, we could wreck.
Maybe that’s what they’re hoping for. Whoever’s in that vehicle, they want us to stop, either by choice or force.
There’s only one thing for us to do—the unexpected.
“Rosie,” I say calmly, even though my heart is racing, “put the cell phone in your pocket.”
“Okay.” She slips the device into the chest pocket of the flannel.
“Good. Now button it in so it won’t fall out.”
She does what she’s told. “Don’t you think we should call Ivan?”
“No, he wouldn’t be able to get here in time. I need you to hold on tight, all right? Grab the door handle and dig your feet into the carpet. I’m going to hit the brakes on the count of three.”
Bless her, she doesn’t question me or protest. She just obeys. She trusts me with everything. Her life, her heart.
I don’t want to let her down.
“Three, two, one.” I slam my foot on the brake.
Our tires squeal as they skid. We’re not fully stopped, but a second later, our pursuer crashes into us from behind. Hard.
Hard enough to make the front end of their vehicle buckle up like an accordion. If we’re lucky, they might be injured or unconscious, and we can make our getaway.
Pushing down on the pedal, I try to accelerate, but the SUV just shakes as our tires spin. The smell of burnt rubber wafts up. I floor it again, but we’re not going anywhere.
“Our bumpers are stuck together. Fuck! Get out.” I open my door before rushing around to Rosalie’s side. No one emerges from the other vehicle, but we can’t stay here. “Still got the cell phone?”