Page 44 of Peaks and Promises

“Yep, they are.”

The light at the next intersection turned red. There was a car ahead of me, so I couldn’t run it to put distance between us. And I didn’t want to start a high-speed chase in the middle of town. Those assholes wouldn’t give a crap about collateral damage. Someone could get hurt.

I slowed down with enough distance to wait it out without stopping. When the light changed, I darted around the car in front of us and took a right onto an empty side street.

“Hold on,” I said, hitting the gas.

Summer braced herself, and the tires squealed as I took a hard left.

After a few more quick turns, we were outside the business district, on a street lined with warehouses and a shady-looking used car dealership. For a second, I thought I might have lost them, but they raced out from a side street and got behind us again.

“Damn.”

“Mom?” Nate asked.

She turned. “Yeah?”

“I have to go to the bathroom.”

“Can you hold it?”

“I think so.”

“You gotta try, buddy. We can’t stop right now.”

“I know.”

Probably not the time for it, but I almost laughed. Three outlaw bikers on my tail and the kid had to pee.

Pressing on the gas, I gunned it past another warehouse complex. We were on the outskirts of town, and if I kept going straight, we’d wind up on a remote road that crossed the desert.

Nowhere to hide out there.

There was another warehouse up ahead on the left. It looked old and dilapidated—covered with graffiti—and the fence was partly torn down. Probably abandoned.

Instinct told me to turn, so I did. The bikers followed.

Summer held on as I swerved to avoid a pile of debris. Movement caught my eye as we passed another large building. A train was coming.

The fence on the back side of the property was gone. Nothing between us and the tracks. My eyes flicked to the train, racing toward us.

I could make it. Gripping the steering wheel, I laid into the gas.

“Reese…” Summer’s voice was tense.

I didn’t reply. Just drove faster.

She pressed one hand against the door and held on to the dash with the other. “This is a bad idea.”

“Don’t worry.” I narrowed my eyes at the train. It was going to be close.

Really close.

“I’m worried,” she said. “Really worried.”

I checked the rearview. The bikers were right behind me.

The train whistle blew as it bulleted down the track. If I was going to stop, I needed to do it. Another few seconds, and I wouldn’t have time.