Page 10 of Deadly Misfortunes

Sascha gripped the leather seat as she studied the red pickup truck's headlights, which followed close behind them. She tapped on the privacy glass window between Raymond and her. As soon as he slid the partition open, she said, “That pickup⁠—”

She didn’t have a chance to say anything else. The truck barreled into the black Lincoln limousine’s left rear corner with a thunderous bang.

Raymond shouted, “Hold on! Damn, this wasn’t supposed to happen like this!”

Everything occurred so quickly; she barely had a chance to breathe. Metal grinding against metal filled the air with a raucous sound. The pickup rubbed up against the limousine, nudging it into the railing. Her heart racing, Sascha knew real trouble lay ahead, and she hated that she couldn't do anything about it.

The car continued to grind against the railing, the truck locking them in place. Sparks scattered in the dark. The screeching of brakes and the mashing of steel assaulted their ears. Then to Sascha’s relief, the truck pulled away.

“Can we climb out before the limo falls into the river?” she asked Raymond, her voice panicky.

“No. We’re not going to make it!” Raymond shouted. “The brakes are out, and the steering mechanism’s been damaged by the railing.”

The pickup came in for the kill.

She practically held her breath. “Raymond, can you open the car windows?” Her voice sounded calm, despite the panic rising in her chest.

“Yeah.”

The truck rammed them hard. The limousine careened through the railing. Instantly, the car's interior filled with airbags, and then the white cloth deflated. When she could see through the windows again, she realized the car had stopped and was now teetering precariously on top of the railing like a seesaw.

Raymond rolled down the windows. “What do you have in mind?”

“Swimming to shore, if we survive the fall, and whoever rammed us doesn’t try to shoot us.”

She gripped the seat, waiting for the last concussion that would plummet them into the dark river below.

Raymond held onto the steering wheel for dear life. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” She tried to reassure him, but her skin chilled with worry.

The truck drove on past and now returned with a vengeance. Roaring toward them like a predator, the truck bore down on them. Sascha felt her heart would jump out of her chest; it beat so hard.

“Here it comes!” Raymond hollered.

He needn’t have said a thing. She knew it was coming to finish what it had begun.

One final shove, that’s all it needed.

The pickup slammed into the limousine. The crippled vehicle tumbled off the bridge.

Gregory couldn’t quell the worry that ravished his mind. If Sascha and Raymond were hurt by the maniac who was trying to kill him—well, he had to hope it wasn’t as bad as all that. That it was only his imagination getting the best of him. That Raymond’s phone was on the blink, and he’d had a flat tire.

But he knew it wasn’t so.

He’d already called the police, and they were sending a patrol car to check it out, but he couldn’t wait to hear back from them. The anxiety ate away at him. No way could he remain impotent at home. And he was probably closer to their location than the police were.

He only hoped he would find that they were all right and that paranoia was his only real enemy at the moment.

He headed out to the five-car garage to get in his car and learn what he could.

The limousine slammed into the river, bobbed around, and then began to sink. Now was the time to panic. Sascha unbuckled her belt as she heard Raymond click his open.

“Are you okay?” they said in unison.

“Yeah,” was the response from both.

Sascha climbed through the open privacy window into the front passenger seat. “Can you swim, Raymond?”