“We’ll see.” Ryker laughs, seemingly not worried at all.
Jesus, I can’t wait for this day to end.
The car falls into an uncomfortable silence. Not that it was comfortable before.
Other than the low rumble of the engine, the only sound filling the cab is the occasional rattling of chains every time one of the guys moves.
The road is pretty empty now, so when I see two black SUVs approaching in the mirror, my alarm bell goes off.
“What the fuck–” Jeff doesn’t even get to finish before Ryker and Hunter move with lightning speed and precision. I don’t know how they got out of their cuffs, but they did.
The last thing I see is the light reflecting on the chain Ryker wraps around Jeff’s throat. Then two powerful arms grab me from behind. One wraps around my neck, the other around my face. Hunter pulls me back, trapping me to the seat with my cheek pressed against the headrest.
I claw at his arms, trying to get him away from me, but his iron grip never loosens.
The crash that follows is so loud, I fear my eardrums burst. Metal bends, tires squeal, glass breaks, and a loud scream fills my ears. Only when I feel the burn in my throat, do I realize the scream is mine.
The car jerks around violently, spinning us over the road, before crashing into what I assume is the guardrail.
If Hunter wasn’t holding my head so tight, I’m sure my skull would have cracked the windshield by now.
We finally skid to a halt, and I’m now clawing into Hunter’s arm for dear life instead of trying to push him away.
For a moment, my mind goes black. Absolutely blank. I don’t move. I don’t think. With my eyes closed and the arms still slung around my face and neck, I stay in the darkness.
It’s the out of place gurgling sound that slingshots me back into reality.
Jeff, Ryker, Hunter, accident…
Shit, Ryker is killing Jeff.
As soon as I struggle against Hunters hold, he tightens his grip.
“Relax,” he whispers into my ear. “You’re gonna be fine.”
Fine?I’m not fine. I’m the furthest away from fine. Anger at his words clears my mind enough to remember the gun in the glove box.
Disoriented, I release his arms and reach ahead of me, trying to find the latch to unlock the compartment. Blindly I feel along the glove box, when both front doors open. Humid air from the outside blows into the car, and I sense and hear people move around us. Instinctively, I pull my arms back and grip Hunter’s forearm.
The sound of gunfire is deafening.
One shot.
Then a second.