Page 65 of Quadruple Duty

“Turn left.”

Sammara stared over at me, wholly confused. “We have to go straight here, not—”

“I said turn left. NOW.”

I reached for the wheel. Before I could get there Sammara pulled a hard left turn, no directional, no warning. The jeep glided into the darkened sidestreet, away from the main avenue. And behind us…

Behind us both vehicles made the same turn.

“Climb into my lap.”

Sammara laughed haughtily. “Are you kidding?”

“Do it.”

“If you think I’m just going to—”

BUMP!

We were hit hard, straight from behind. Not hard enough to cause us to crash. But hard enough to send a message: pull over.

“Sammara listen to me!” I cried. “Keep the wheel straight, keep your feet off the pedals, and climb over me, into my lap.”

Her face still registered the shock of being hit. She glanced into the rear-view mirror, and for a split-second I thought she would pump the brakes and pull over. Instead, to her credit, she regained her composure and did exactly what I said.

“Good, now let me slide under you.”

We switched positions. It happened easily, effortlessly. Almost like we’d practiced it before.

“Now hang on!”

Twenty-Nine

SAMMARA

Ryan’s hands gripped the wheel as he floored the gas pedal. The jeep lurched forward just as the SUV behind us was coming in for another hit. This time it missed.

“What’s going on!”

I shouted it out loud, probably a little too frantically. But this was my jeep! And whoever was driving the big black Suburban obviously wanted to ram us off the road.

Ryan tore down the sidestreet, then spun through the next main intersection. I felt the jeep threaten to roll. I could envision it coming up on two tires…

“Who are those people?” I cried, grabbing for my seatbelt. “Did I cut someone off? Is someone mad at something I—”

“No.”

Ryan spat the word through clenched teeth. His knuckles clenching the wheel were white. His eyes were darting back and forth through the evening traffic, looking for an out. Searching for an opening in the—

SCREEEECCCCH!

I flew left as he turned right, nearly flipping us in the process. Chinese food flew everywhere. Hot and steaming, it rained down over him on the driver’s side of the vehicle, leaving Ryan covered in House Mei Fun.

I grabbed for my phone. Went to dial 911.

“NO.” Again he denied me without looking over.

“But the police

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