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“Shit!”
Two cars on the northbound highway crashed trying to avoid hitting Drake, a third flipped over the median into our path.
My head knocked against the window frame, neck screaming with whiplash as Grey avoided the collision, the smell of metal and gasoline heavy in my nose. The glow of fire in the rearview.
Cars piled up on the opposite highway, busting through the meridian, clogging the air with a thick, dense smoke.
“Do you see him?” I asked Rook, trying and failing to locate him in the wreckage or the now tens or maybe hundreds of cars slowing to a red-brake-light stop.
We didnotjust fucking lose him.
No.
I slammed my palm on the dash, my breath hot and heavy, coming out through bared teeth.
Rook grabbed my shoulder. “There!”
I followed his line of sight and found a single tail light as it curved, getting off the highway.
“Grey—”
“I saw.”
He took the next exit, jamming the Rover into a lower gear as we whipped around the curve and took the first left.
With bated breath, we drove in tense silence, the whistle of the wind the only sound above the distant roar of fire and sirens as we took the exit road toward Edgewood.
We barreled down the road, passing every vehicle in our way, scouring the shoulder, the trees, the roads forking off in both directions.
The Rover rolled to a stop when the road finally reached a two way split, holding up traffic as it caught up behind us. Left would take us back to Thorn Valley. Right to Lennox.
There were no red tail lights in either direction.
Grey punched the steering wheel hard before grabbing it to anchor him through a feral war cry. “Fuck, fuck,fuck.”
The car behind him honked, long and loud and his eyes glittered with rage before he threw it into reverse, demolishing the front end of the car behind us before throwing it into park. His hands gripped the wheel as he fought to tame his breathing, leaning his forehead against the worn leather.
There was nothing Rook or I could say now that wouldn’t make him feel even more like a failure than he clearly already did.
“You did what you could,” I said, my voice terse and emotionally detached even to my own ears.
We fucking lost him.
And now he knew that we knew who he was.
I dragged a sweaty palm over the scruff growing on my jaw.
“Just fucking say it,” Grey demanded, his voice hollow. “I never would’ve lost him before. The one fucking thing I’m good at and I—”
“Don’t,” Rook sat back in his seat, laying his Browning in his lap to press his palms into his eye sockets. “How the fuck would you’ve caught a motorcycle driving on the other side of a fucking meridian in opposing traffic. Who the fuck are you, Houdini?”
Grey didn’t reply, and the man in the car behind us opened his door, phone to his ear. Blood running in a straight line down the middle of his forehead.
Rook opened his door, flashing his gun at the guy. “Back in your car, asshole.”
“We need to get back,” I found myself saying. “Maverick needs to answer for this motherfucker. He knows something. He has to.”
Yes. A new idea. A new angle. Something. I needed something to go on. Anything that could lead us toher.
