Baer stomped on the gas, and the Jeep snarled before launching forward down the narrow street. One of the drawbacks of the nightclub Baer had chosen was that it put them square in the center of Savannah’s historic district. While a beautiful part of the city, it was filled with narrow streets. Cars lined the curbs for all the elegant town houses. There were also a lot of pedestrians out due to the relatively early hour. Baer had to watch his speed until he could get to the expressway out of the city.
“Who the hell are you guys? Why does it feel like I know you and him?” Grey demanded. He grabbed the roll bar on his right when Baer took a hard turn. He sounded close to panic, and Clay couldn’t blame him. He’d gotten the same strange feeling when he met Baer for the first time.
“I’m Clay Green, and the driver is Baer Manning. The guy in front of you is Dane Briggs,” Clay introduced.
“Grey Ackles,” he replied in an absent manner while his eyes narrowed at Dane’s head. “I don’t know him.”
“But you know us?” Baer asked and then chuckled. “Man, what are the fucking odds?”
“Eyes on the fucking road!” Clay snapped as they barely missed clipping a car that had stupidly attempted to pull out in front of Baer. Clay’s heart tried to crawl out of his chest at Baer’s driving.
Baer waved a hand at him. “I got this. Jo’s gonna shit a brick. She’s been looking for him.”
“What the fuck is going on?” Grey shouted so that Clay was looking at him again. “I’ve had those-those fetid fucks chasing me for months now. There’s a-a I don’t know what in my head demanding I come south. And now I find you two in this nightclub. It feels like I’ve known you my entire life, but I know I’ve never met either of you before.”
“It’s a long story,” Clay muttered.
“One you can’t say in front of me,” Dane snapped. He twisted in his seat so he could glare at Clay seated behind Baer.
“Dane—”
“Save it!” Dane snarled, cutting him off. “I’m not a fucking idiot. I know something is going on at that house. You’re probably all drug dealers or mercenaries.”
Clay glanced over at Grey to find the man suspiciously watching them, and Clay closed his eyes on a groan. “Trust me, it’s not what you think.”
“And then you kiss this guy after having your tongue down my throat!”
Clay flinched at those words thrown at him like knives. Apparently, Baer hadn’t gotten him out of the club yet. Fuck.
“It didn’t mean anything, Dane,” Clay argued. “It was just a distraction so you and Baer could get out safely.”
Car horns blared, breaking off their conversation as Baer ran a red light and took the on-ramp to grab Interstate 16 deeper into Georgia. Clay swore under his breath and willed his heart back to its place behind his chest plate. The damn thing was desperate to break free, and he didn’t blame it. He’d rather be anywhere than in this car with Baer driving.
“Seriously, it didn’t mean anything,” Grey said. “He’s not my type.”
“Oh yeah, Clay’s only got the hots for you,” Baer added.
“Just drive, Baer,” Clay snapped.
When the first gunshot rang out above the roar of the engine and the rush of the wind, Clay was almost relieved. It meant they finally had something else to talk about besides his attraction to Dane. The bullet pinged off the metal bumper, and they all ducked at the same time.
“Well, that’s new,” Baer muttered. He pressed on the gas and jerked them around a car traveling too slow for his liking. The massive tires sent up a spray of gravel as Baer jerked the Jeep onto the shoulder and then out onto the road.
Guns were new. Was it wrong that Clay had begun to hope they didn’t know how to use guns? They’d never come at him with guns before. Knives, rocks, and even those strange inhuman claws, but never guns.
“Who the hell are these guys?” Dane shrieked.
“No clue,” Grey muttered.
Keeping his head down, Dane glared at Clay between the front seats. “Can we call the cops now?”
“If the cops here are anything like Oregon cops, it won’t do any good,” Grey said.
“The cops are fine here. I think.”
Clay nearly smiled at Dane. The poor guy looked so lost. This was not how their night out was supposed to go. In Clay’s wildest imaginings, he’d thought they’d have a few drinks, a few laughs, and maybe when they got to the house, he might luck into a good-night/thanks for a fun night kiss from Dane.
Yes, he’d managed to get a fucking toe-curling kiss from Dane that shorted out his brain, but it didn’t seem like it was a fair trade-off that they were now running for their lives.