“Don’t you want alone time with your family?”
“Nope. I’ve had thirty-eight years of alone time with my mom and twenty-six years of alone time with the Disastrous Duo.”
“Don’t call them disastrous, Logan. That’s not nice.”
“You like them.”
It wasn’t a question but I still answered.
“I adore them. I wish they lived closer. They’d fit right in with the rest of the girls. Hadley and Addy would love them. And Liberty and Shiloh would think that Jill was hilarious. Not that Jackie’s not funny, but Jill’s the mouthpiece for both of them. And Delany and Jackie would totally hit it off. I wish we had more time, I would’ve loved to introduce them to everyone.”
Logan’s nonresponse made me look from the radio to him. His jaw was clenched and his eyes were darting from the rearview mirror to the side mirror, pausing only a moment to watch the traffic in front of him then back to the mirrors.
What on earth?
“What’s wrong?”
“We’re being followed.”
His terse reply took a moment to sink in but when it did panic hit.
“What?”
Logan didn’t answer, the music abruptly cut off, and the sound of a phone ringing filled the silence.
“Yeah?” Drake answered.
“Where are you?”
“Leroy coming up on 84.”
“I have a black Merc tailing me,” Logan told Drake. No inflection, no worry, like it was no big freaking deal. “We’re on 84, traveling west. I’m gonna hit Lewis Frasier and try to ditch him on the back roads.”
“Copy that. I’ll use Holmestown; if you keep west I can intercept.”
“I’ll do that. I’ve got Lauren with me, go easy.”
“Fuck,” Drake clipped. “I’ll call it in, you stay alert.”
“Always.”
The line disconnected and Logan accelerated. His Mustang shot forward and I held my breath. I saw the road he wanted to turn onto up ahead but he wasn’t slowing down. I continued to hold my breath. The median barrier ended and I knew from experience turning onto Lewis Frasier you had to cross two lanes of oncoming traffic. I also knew the Jersey barrier restarted about ten feet from the turn.
Logan needed to slow down.
He didn’t.
In the scariest maneuver I’ve ever experienced, Logan made a hard left narrowly missing getting hit. And I mean narrowly. I’d be shocked if the other car hadn’t kissed Logan’s bumper as he flew by.
I shrieked. Yes, my shrill voice echoed in the car. It wasn’t my finest moment, but it wasn’t every day I was in a car that was being followed, with a badass behind the wheel thinking he was on a racetrack rather than a busy Georgia highway.
Logan ignored my outburst and answered his ringing phone.
“Yeah?”
“You got a plate for me to run?” Dylan asked matter-of-factly.
What the hell was wrong with these men? Was no one concerned?
“Negative, no front plate on the Merc. I lost it when I turned but now I got a white Charger or Challenger and he’s on my ass.”
“Change of plans, Matt’s close. He’s moving your way using Bill Carter Road. He’ll be waiting for you at the intersection. He needs space to cut off the car so put some distance between you and the Charger.”
“Not sure if that’s gonna be possible, Dylan.”
“Find a way.”
That call disconnected and it was safe to say at this point my stomach was feeling woozy.
“Ren, open the glove box and grab my Sig.”
I didn’t argue. I reached for the glovebox and fumbled with the latch. On the third attempt, I got it open and pulled out his gun.
“Calm, baby, everything’s gonna be fine.”
Was it? Was it really? I glanced at the speedometer and I couldn’t see how driving fifty miles an hour over the thirty-five miles an hour speed limit equaled “fine”.
I didn’t verbalize this.
“Take the Sig out of the holster. Safety’s on but keep the barrel pointed at your door.”
“I think your version of fine and mine are two very different things.”
“I’d never let anything happen to you, Ren. The gun’s a precaution.”
Logan’s eyes narrowed on the rearview mirror and the air in the car changed. It sizzled and charged with something so unpleasant my stomach bottomed out.
“Get down!”
Logan didn’t give me an opportunity to follow his command. His arm shot out, his hand grabbed me around the back of my neck, and he shoved my face to my knees.
One second.
One heartbeat.
One breath later the first gunshot rang out. Glass shattered, something hit my back, and there was a loud thud.
Without missing a beat, Logan reached between my chest and legs and deftly pulled his gun from my hand.
“Do not move, Lauren. Not a fucking muscle, we clear?”
Fuck yes, we’re crystal clear.
“Clear,” I mumbled.
The second and third bullets hit the car.
I closed my eyes and listened to the engine whine as Logan pushed his Mustang to go faster.
“Call Matt Kessler,” Logan barked.
“Calling Matt Kessler,” Logan’s car returned in a British accent.
British, really?
“I’m in place.” Matt’s voice came over the speakers.
“Shots fired,” Logan calmly conveyed. “I’ve taken three.”
“Can Lauren—”
“No!”
“How much space you got?”
“Two car lengths, at most.”
“That’s not enough room. She needs to return fire.”
“Not gonna happen.”
“Brother—”
“Not gonna fucking happen, Matt. I’ve got ten miles until I’m at the intersection. Where’s Drake?”
“He went down to 119 to cut around. If you won’t let Lauren handle it now, I’ll take him from behind.”
Another bullet slammed into the Mustang and the car pitched right as I felt the car’s back end slide. Logan swerved back on the road, all the while cussing a blue streak.
Fuck this.
Fuck cowering with my head between my knees.
Fuck being shot at while Logan argued with Matt.
I knew how to shoot. I’d been taught by the best.
“Give me back the gun,” I demanded.
“Stay down!”
“Give me the damn gun, Logan, before we die.”
“We’re not gonna die.”
“We damn well are if one of the tires get shot out while we’re going a hundred miles an hour. Give me the gun and you concentrate on driving.”
“Godmotherfucking!”
Logan handed me the gun.
I unbelted and started to crawl into the back seat when I stopped to stare at the missing headrest.
The headrest my head had been resting on one second before the bullet hit it.
Reality hit hard. I’d almost died. I would’ve died if Logan hadn’t shoved me down.
“Lauren, ass in the seat, belt back on!”
His demand snapped me out of my stupor and I crawled through the front seats and balanced on my knees on the back seat. The back windshield was blown out courtesy of the assholes behind us. Good news was I had a clear shot. The bad news was glass was digging into my knees and shins.