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“You’re going to be driving incredibly fast and I’m going to push the button and you’re going to spin out of control and your first instinct is to go looking for the wall to see where it is. But if you look toward the wall, you’re going to steer us into it, and you can literally get us killed. So I’m going to be here to make sure you focus.”
“Great.” My heart is pounding out of my chest. I don’t think I’ve ever felt more alive.
I speed up and after two-and-a-half laps, he pushes the button.
“Get away from the wall by turning to the left!” he yells.
He forces my head left, making me look that way. But there’s lag time. Momentum. I’m not expecting that. He keeps forcing my face left. Eventually the wheels catch.
Second time around, I immediately look at the wall. I want to see death when it comes. He forces my head left. At the last second, the wheels catch.
It takes me six tries before I immediately stop looking for the wall. “You have to build the response into your nervous system,” Chris says. “But if you look at what you’re afraid of, you’re going to drive right into it.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Ethan
Drizzle falls from the dark sky. A storm is rolling in fast. I hear thunder booming in the distance. It’s late when I pull into my drive. I’m still high from my experience at the racetrack. Large drops pelt my windshield, a welcome sight. The mixture of adrenaline and the usual insomnia make me grateful for the rain. It’s a peaceful distraction. There are just a few hours before I have to be up.
I sit in my car for a bit watching the rain and before I know it, the rush of the racetrack subsides and I start to dread going inside. I think about the past and wonder how I ended up in this situation. In a rundown house, in a rundown neighborhood. It was never meant to be permanent. After Bethany confessed her love for someone else, I moved out. I found this house and made an offer on a whim. I had planned on fixing it up and flipping it. Yet, here I am two years later.
When I press the button to lift the garage door, nothing happens. The battery must have gone out or a spring broke. Either way, it’s always something with this house. I pull the key from the ignition, leave the car in the driveway, and start up the walk. I tell myself when I get inside I’ll check the weather app to see if hail is in the forecast.
The low clouds are suffocating as I make my way toward the front door. The familiar lump in my throat I get every time I come home and the house is empty makes itself known. I’m greeted by a pitch black porch. The porch light is off or out. I can’t recall if I flicked it on this morning. Before sticking the key in the lock, I use the flashlight on my phone to take a peek at the bulb. It could be out. It often stays on for days. I usually enter through the garage.
My fingers graze the smooth metal of my handgun as I slide my hand along the holster attached to my belt. When I contact the rough texture of the handle, I exhale slowly. My anxiety coupled with my training make me register details other people might not. In law enforcement, you never really turn off. The smallest details are noted and catalogued. Like the fact that Mr. Stevens has three newspapers scattered across his driveway.Is he out of town? Sick? In the hospital?And the Jacobs family? They have two cars parked at the curb in front of their house. Cars that aren’t usually there.Are they visitors or something more sinister?I try to recall whether I’ve seen them before and can’t. I do my best not to spend a lot of time at home.
Turning the key in the lock, I keep one hand at my hip, on my gun, while the other twists the door handle. I fling the door open wide and lean in and flip the light switch at the door, illuminating the living area. I forgot to close the blinds in the back before I left. My reflection in the glass stares back at me. I look ridiculous, wide-eyed and on edge, in the ready stance.
I close the door. After locking the deadbolt, I set the chain and then punch in the code for the alarm. Thunder booms like a bowling ball rolling through an air duct. It’s louder this time, and the sky outside flashes bright. Once, twice, three times. I wait for the thunder to follow, counting down.
After tossing my keys into the bowl on the counter, I shrug out of my suit jacket and sling it over the couch. I stop abruptly when the floor creaks down the hallway. There’s a burning sensation at my neck, like someone’s watching me, and I know I’m not alone. I draw my weapon and duck into the kitchen, putting a wall between me and the intruder. I flip the safety and chamber a round.
“Jesus,” a distinctly female voice groans. “I give you a gift. It’s like you’re not grateful at all.”
Ali’s tone is amused. It’s playful and slightly annoyed. When I round the corner, weapon drawn, she stands there glaring at me, stark naked. In one hand she holds a bottle of champagne. The other is on her hip. She looks at me with a hunger that makes my stomach flutter with fear. “I thought we could celebrate your first lesson.”
“I thought you were out of town,” I say, although this isn’t the first question to come to mind.Is she alone? How did she get in here? Is she fucking crazy?
“I will be soon.” She smiles and tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear with her free hand. “I wanted to leave you with a parting gift. I missed you.”
I don’t believe her, but with hips and tits like that, it’s hard to turn down a gift. She looks incredible, so fucking incredible, that I don’t think I could say no, even if I wanted to. “You do realize you’re breaking and entering and I could shoot you no problem.”
“Trust me,” she says. “It would be a very big problem.”
“Is this what you do?” I train my gun on her. “Just turn up?”
“How else is it supposed to be a surprise?”
“We’ve only been on one date. Showing up at my house seems a little premature.” I glance around the place. “How’d you get in?” I ask. The alarm was set. The doors were locked. I’m not exactly a novice when it comes to home security.
“The other night when you brought me home, I watched you type in the code.”
“And?”
She gives a sly smile. “And…I might’ve copied your key.”
“You copied my house key?”
