"I didn't know," Thatch whispered. "I didn't know about the Learys or that they would—" He looked away.
"Hey," Tenn said, getting his attention. "Your heart was in the right place, Thatcher. But maybe avoid scary dudes with guns from now on."
"Yeah, I think I can do that." Thatcher looked at the clock. "We're not going to make it, are we?"
Tenn hit the gas as the traffic sped up even more. "There's always a chance."
I didn't see how there could be. We had less than twenty minutes to make a thirty-minute drive. At least thirty minutes. We passed an exit. And another. Tenn pulled out his phone, dialing and putting it on speaker so he could keep both hands on the wheel.
"Cutting it a little close, aren't you?" demanded a voice I thought I recognized as West. My heart leaped in hope.
"I'm about to hit the exit off 40. Any chance you're around? I've got—"
"I'm sitting here waiting for you, you jackass. Hawk has a tracker on the SUV. Watching you has been torture."
"There's a rockslide, man."
"Yeah, I know. Pull into the emergency lane and hit the gas. I'll have the lights on. We're going to get you home. And if I get fired, you owe me."
"I owe you anyway. See you in two."
Tenn hung up and focused on the road. West had told him to pull onto the emergency lane, but there wasn't much of one. Driving with fearless determination, Tenn used every inch of space, our outside wheels dipping off the pavement, tilting the heavy SUV toward the trees a few times. I grabbed the handle above my door and held on tight. We shot free of the traffic a few seconds later, staying in the emergency lane and passing all the other cars on the exit. Horns blared until a cruiser pulled in front of us, lights flashing.
Then we really took off. I remember it taking at least twenty minutes to make my way from the highway to the town of Sawyers Bend. Not the way West drove. His lights going crazy, sirens blaring, he raced down the country roads, the top-heavy vehicles leaning with every turn, the wheels coming off the ground often enough to have me squeezing my eyes closed.
From behind me, I heard Thatcher's awed, "Wicked."
Ugh. Kids. Everyone around me was insane. On the other hand, if this mad ride would get us to Heartstone Manor in the next—I risked a glance at the clock—seven minutes, I'd deal with my fear of rolling off the side of the mountain.
West took a road I didn't know about, bypassing town and looping around to meet up with the road that wound up the mountain to Heartstone Manor. Five minutes. Four. Three. Two. I clenched my teeth together, trying to hold my stomach in place. Between the crazy ride and my nerves, I seriously thought I was going to puke. Because that was all we needed. Me puking all over the car.
That thought distracted me for a second or two. Finally, the gates came into sight. West must have called ahead. They were open, and we flew through, tight on West's bumper all the way down the long drive to the courtyard in front of the Manor. Skidding to a halt, I checked the clock. 10:50. My heart sank. Surely two minutes wasn't that big of a deal, right?
We spilled out of the SUV to find most of the family gathered on the front steps, surrounding an apple-cheeked man in a suit, peering at an open pocket watch, his brows drawn together, mouth set in a tight line.
He looked up from the watch and met Tenn's gaze. "Tenn. I'm sorry. I'm going to have to escort you off the property—"
"Wait—" Griffen, his phone at his ear, sliced up a hand to stop the man from talking. "Glenn in the booth has Tenn crossing onto Heartstone land at 10:48 exactly. He doesn't have to be in the house itself, he just has to be on the property, correct?"
The man slid the watch into his pocket. Reaching for the phone, he took it from Griffen. "You got him at 10:48? And you can support that in court?" He paused to listen. "Hmm. Uh-hmm. Fine." Handing Griffen back his phone, he said, "Glenn confirmed that the security system recorded the SUV reentering the property at 10:47 and 37 seconds. The system record is admissible in court and Glenn will sign an affidavit confirming the arrival time." As the rest of us relaxed, the man turned to Tenn. "Don't cut it so close again."
"I won't," Tenn promised.
One arm around Thatcher, I threw the other around Tenn, burying my face in his chest and sobbing with relief. Thatcher stiffened in surprise when Tenn pulled us both close, rocking side to side just a little. "Fuck, that was close," he murmured into my hair.