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Mandy motioned to the open road ahead of them. “We’re the only ones on the road at this time of the morning.”
“Just put it on.”
Mandy shot him a double-take seconds before they were jolted from behind.
She gripped the dashboard and twisted in her seat. “What the hell is that guy doing?”
“Put your fuckin’ seatbelt on. Now!”
She fumbled with the strap and clicked it in just as the Wrangler bumped them again. This time harder.
Mamba hit the gas and they sped forward, but the Jeep stayed on their tail.
“Fuck!” Mamba’s eyes darted from side to side. No gas stations, no stores, nothing but the rocky sand of the desert. He leaned forward, retrieving his gun from under his seat, and laid it on his lap. This was no random nut job, this was intentional. Just like the roses and all the other bullshit.
The Jeep was on their tail again, pacing him with only a few feet between them. If he’d been alone, he would’ve jammed on the brakes and played with the fucker until he had him where he wanted him, but his pregnant woman in the car added a whole new dimension. A fuckin’ scary out-of-control dimension.
A car coming in the opposite direction might be his only chance.
He shifted a look to Mandy. “I’m gonna try something, so hold on.”
She nodded as she gripped the door with one hand and the console with the other. Shit, this was fucked up.
Mamba pulled into the opposite lane, the oncoming car still in the distance. The Jeep followed him, and Mamba accelerated.
“What are you doing?” Mandy yelled, eyes wide.
“Hold on.” Mamba pressed the gas pedal to the floor, quickly closing the distance between them and the oncoming car. The car’s horn blared and Mamba swerved back into his lane. The Jeep veered off the road to avoid the car. It skidded into the rocky sand of the shoulder, then toppled over onto it’s side. Mamba hit the gas hard and sped away.
Adrenaline jetted through his blood. His sweaty palms gripping the steering wheel. “Are you all right?”
Mandy swallowed hard, her hand palming her belly. “Yes. I think so.”
“Shit!” Mamba banged his hand on the steering wheel as an uncontrollable rage simmered in his gut. Anger replaced fear and he wanted to slam his fist into whoever was behind the wheel of the Jeep. They obviously wanted to send a message because if they wanted him dead, they wouldn’t have given up.
“Are you really not going to talk about what just happened?”
Mamba stayed silent not knowing where to begin or how to explain.
“Or how you’ve been on edge since we left Vegas, and the whole time we were in Cobra’s cabin.” She shifted in the seat. “I saw the black roses in the garbage can.”
Mamba jerked his head to face her. “You did?”
“Why didn’t you tell me about them?”
“I didn’t want you to worry.”
Mandy threw her palms up. “I think we’re way past the worry part. Some nut job sent us cryptic roses, and we were almost run off the road.”
“I know. I know.”
“So, what’s going on? We have at least a half hour before we hit Vegas. Plenty of time to tell me what the fuck is going on.”
Mandy seldom cursed and the absolute terror in her voice chilled him.
“I owe some people money.”
“And that explains absolutely nothing, so do better.”
