Grayson shot off a round of texts in the back, and I relaxed my head onto the seat, listening to the radio. My eyes grew heavy, lulled by the gentle vibration of the car’s engine as Kenna sped up to the fifty-miles-per-hour limit. A minute or two passed, when I noticed Kenna shift in her seat. Her fingers gripping the steering wheel tightened, as her eyes darted back to the rearview mirror.
I knew Kenna well enough to know something was bothering her. “What’s wrong?” I asked, the tension in her features amplifying.
“Nothing… I hope,” she replied, chewing on her lips as her gaze flicked back up to the mirror. “It’s just this car behind me came out of fucking nowhere.”
It was dark as shit tonight, the moon was hidden behind a cluster of gloomy clouds, so I could see how she might not see that car until it was on top of us. I glanced over my shoulder through the back window to check it out for myself, and sure as shit, a truck or some kind of SUV was practically kissing the back end of Kenna’s BMW. Its headlights beamed brightly through our car. “Does that asshole have his brights on?” I asked, my blood pressure rising. I might not be driving, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t get a serious case of road rage.
Grayson lifted his head from his phone, catching on that Kenna and I were concerned about something. “What happened?”
“Just some douchebag being an asshole,” I mumbled, but even as the words tumbled from my mouth, a chill skated across my neck.
Grayson glanced out the back window to check it out for himself.
“Should I just pull over and let him pass?” she asked, like a responsible driver or my grandma.
“Hell no. Fuck this asshole,” I replied. Kenna was lucky she was driving, or I would have brake-checked his ass already.
The jerk sped up, revving his V8 engine. At this time of night, very few drivers were on the road, so it was just Kenna and this jagoff behind us from what I could see. On the second time, he revved the turbocharged beast, hit the gas, and swerved into the other lane to pass.
Unable to contain myself, I leaned over, invading Kenna’s personal space, my middle finger standing straight up. “Asshole!” I yelled, flipping the car off. Not that they could have heard me over the deep rumble of the truck’s engine, but I got my point across.
Kenna kept her eyes on the road, shaking her head. “Holy shit. You’re insane. You’re going to get us killed. That guy probably has a gun and is going to come back and shoot us.”
I fidgeted back into my seat, adjusting my seat belt. “People like him should have their license revoked. Besides, we have Grayson,” I said confidently.
“Who doesn’t have a gun,” he said from the back seat, scowling.
Kenna rolled her eyes. “What are you, the good driving police?”
I squinted my eyes. “Funny.” A sigh left a second later. “Sorry. Working makes me bitchy.”
Kenna laughed. “Why do you think I don’t have a job? You should quit. I know you feel some sort of absurd obligation to pay for college, but seriously, do you think our parents are going to let that happen? As someone who has lived with them for her entire life, you’re wasting your time at Lazy Ray’s.”
“Maybe.” I might complain about being tired, but I actually enjoyed working. I enjoyed having my own money even more.
Kenna scowled into the rearview mirror, and a bad feeling wormed its way into my gut. “It’s that car again,” she said softly, something frightening in her tone as a sudden burst of headlights flipped on.
“You’re shitting me.” I whipped my head around, seeing a familiar truck pulling off the side of the road and coming up behind us, fast.
“This motherfucker,” Grayson swore, his fingers gripping onto the back of my headrest as he twisted around. “He must have pulled over and waited until we passed.”
“I told you he would come back with a gun.”
For once, Kenna might be right. The earlier chill moved from my neck and tiptoed down my spine. This was no coincidence. Something was wrong.
“Call Brock,” Grayson ordered as he glared out the back window at the approaching truck.
Without question or argument, I dug out my cellphone. “Hit the gas,” I told Kenna, as I fumbled with my phone.
Her foot slammed down on the pedal. “Hold on.” Her warning came a tad too late, the surge of the BMW tossing me back against the seat.
Grayson braced his hand on the roof of the car. “Christ, Kenna. You’re going to kill us. I told you I should have driven.”
“Now is not the time to point fingers,” she barked back, concentration lines creasing on her forehead.
The phone rang in my ear.Come on. Come on. Pick up.
“Fuck. He’s going to hit us,” Kenna said quickly, jerking the car to the left, crossing into the other lane to avoid a collision.