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I hit the gas a little harder, propelling me forward into the mess of traffic up ahead but being cautious about it, not wanting the SUV to realize that we’re onto him. “Who is it?” I ask, glancing up into the mirror again.
King shakes his head. “No fucking clue,” he says, nodding up ahead. “Keep your eyes on the road. You need to concentrate on driving. Let us worry about the tail.”
My gaze reluctantly falls back to the car that sits in front of me, wanting nothing more than to throw myself into the back and pummel my fists into King for that comment, but he’s right. I’m way too new at this whole driving thing to be thinking about anything more than what’s happening on the road around me. Hell, getting into a car chase isn’t exactly something that I should be involved in either. Why did I have to go and say that I’d drive? If Grayson were in control, he would have already had us far away from this bullshit.
“Weave into the far right lane,” Grayson says, pointing out a narrow route, slipping between two cars.
“Oh, fuck,” I panic, my eyes going wide as I focus on the small space, my heart racing, knowing that had I been on my Ducati, I could have slid into that spot without question.
“Now, Elodie,” Grayson groans, not appreciating my hesitation.
I clench my jaw and go for it, the move way too jerky and sending the three of us rocking to the right in our seats. I straighten up, putting us in the center of the lane as my gaze flashes up to the mirror just in time to watch the SUV pull into the right lane a few cars behind us.
“Shit,” Grayson says, his jaw clenched, clearly seeing that this isn’t a position that we want to be in. He pulls his phone out and makes a quick call, putting it on speakerphone so that he can concentrate on both the car and his call.
“What’s up?” Cruz questions, his bored tone filling the cab.
“We’ve got a tail.”
“Fuck,” Cruz curses. “On my way.”
The call goes dead a second later and Grayson drops the phone into the cup holder between us. His eyes remain on the traffic around us, almost as though a game plan is forming in his head. “Speed up as much as you can without hitting the car in front,” he says, his eyes flicking between the cars. “You’re not going to like this.”
I nod, letting out a shaky breath and keep my focus on the road in front of me.
“At this next intersection, you’re going to do a sharp left turn exactly when I tell you to, you hear me? Do not fucking hesitate.”
“But we’re in the far-right lane. I’ll never make it through three lanes of traffic, plus the cars coming the other way. It’s a suicide mission.”
Grayson’s hard stare comes back to mine. “Are you up for this or would you prefer to just pull over and let whoever the fuck is in that SUV take you out? You have three fucking seconds to decide.”
“FUCK,” I roar. “Shit. I fucking hate you so much right now.”
“Elodie?” he snaps.
“Yes, okay,” I yell out. “I can do it.”
“Good, now wait for me to say so.”
I swallow hard as we start approaching the intersection. “Slow down a bit,” he says. I ease up on the gas and he nods. “Alright ready …” he says, dragging out each word as the anticipation builds within me, the intensity far more than the bullshit we just did in the backseat. “NOW.”
I turn the steering wheel sharp to the left and sail straight through the gap beside me, my heart thundering as my eyes widen in horror. Grayson’s hand grips the steering wheel as he helps guide me through the rest of the lanes, each one of them skidding to a stop and creating a mess of traffic behind us.
Horns blare but I ignore every last one of them, determined to make it out of the intersection without a scratch. “Good girl,” King praises from the back seat, his hands gripping the backs of both mine and Grayson’s seats to keep from flying around the backseat. “He’s caught up in the traffic, but it won’t be for long. This is our shot to get some distance between us.”
We clear the intersection and I breathe heavily, panting more than when I’m with the guys. “Step on it, Ellie,” Grayson says. “Go. Go. Go.”
I do as I’m told, kicking the Escalade into gear as I fly down the narrow side street, the panic still riding high. I’m definitely not skilled enough to be driving at speeds like this in such a big car. Hell, I’m barely skilled enough to do it on my Ducati. Not that it matters anymore, seeing as though my Ducati was skipped off as scrap metal and technically doesn’t exist anymore.
