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“I get it, sweetheart. It’s only this week, though.” I pace in my office, wondering if maybe she got into it with the school. The side eyes I got when I went into the office to add Bailey to the drop-off and pick-up list as well as an emergency contact raised a few brows.

“Right, anyways, your house isn’t that far away, and both girls are super excited to order dinner and watch a movie.”

“Bailey, what’s wrong?” I need to know what’s going on, who I need to go after.

“I’m trying, I swear, just a little nervous over here, Forest. I’ve got a car following me. I’ve even gone in a different direction than the house, and I can’t lose them,” she responds. I can hear the girls in the background, Cammy soothing Piper.

“Describe the car for me.” I don’t voice my concerns that this could be a completely different incident that could be my past colliding with my future.

“Oh, you know, the run-of-the-mill black sedan, the kinds you see in those mafia movies.” The only person who has ties with that situation would be my brother’s wife, Hendrix, who works for Journey, the wife of Vegas’ underworld Italian mafia, Nico.

“Any other details? Can you see what the driver looks like?” I ask more questions.

“Nope, but listen, the girls are crying, so I can’t keep talking. I’m going to drive to the police station. Surely, that will deter them. Right?” It’s like Murphy’s Law. I hear the crunch of metal, the girls screaming in the background, and I can’t get out of my office fast enough. One minute, I’m in my office, and the next, I’m running through the hall, not waiting on an elevator, taking the five flights of stairs.

“Stay on the phone, Bailey. Don’t hang up. I’m on my way,” I tell her. The only place I need to be is with Bailey, Cammy, and Piper, and that’s the one place I’m not. One thing is for sure—I’m going to get to them come hell or high water.

TWENTY-EIGHT

Bailey

“I should have taken defensive driving lessons,” I mutter under my breath. The phone that I had on my lap, speakerphone on because, you know, safety first and whatnot, keeping two hands on the wheel was a necessity, well, who knows where my phone is now—in the seat beneath me, the floorboard, or if I’m lucky, it’s in the passenger seat.

“Bailey, this is really scary,” Cammy says from the backseat. Jesus, I should have handed her the phone, then she could tell Forest what’s going on or call 9-1-1.

“I know, but I can see the police station in the distance. Keep holding Piper’s hand for me, okay?” My eyes leave the front of the road, capturing hers in the backseat as she nods, wetness in her eyes. She’s holding the tears back, and it pisses me off further that someone would attempt to hurt me, nevertheless the two children in the car.

“Forest, if you can hear me, I can’t shake them. I’ve sped up, slowed down. I’m trying my best, I promise.” Sweat is coating my skin. The infallible is fallible. I’m feeling like a failure, trying to outmaneuver a car that’s so closely on my tail I can’t see the front end of their car. I don’t hear if he responded or not. All I know is that I’m less than two minutes away from my destination when I’m hit harder. My head slams forward and backwards, then the car is spinning. My stomach is dropping to my feet, our lives flashing before my eyes, Cammy and Piper no longer growing up, a fault that I will feel deeply in my bones if something happens to either one of them.

“Bailey!” Cammy screams.

“Bai-Bai, me no wike!” Piper’s voice is loud through the squeal of tires as we do a one-eighty, narrowly missing cars as I try to correct the vehicle. When I feel the car tilt on its side, I pray to every God out there that we don’t flip.

“I know, babies, it’s okay. We’re going to be okay. I love you.” I wish things didn’t have to happen like this. They’ve been through so much in a short amount of time, Forest included. I swear if something happens to me and I don’t make it through, only to find out the girls were hurt as well, I will come back as a ghost and scare the ever-loving shit out of whoever was in that black sedan. I gun my vehicle one last time seeing that piece of shit is behind me once again. Talk about a stalker. Maybe someone should tell them women don’t like that kind of stalker behavior. That may be cute in the movies or a romance book, but not when it’s a life-or-death situation. I cut the wheel, sharper than I probably should, but that’s the only way I can make it into the police station parking lot. So much for losing the black sedan. Another crunch to my car, this time on Cammy’s side, and there’s no fixing this situation. The light pole appears out of nowhere. Pumping my brakes doesn’t work. Clearly, that’s only a good idea when you’re hydroplaning. Smashing my foot on the brake with both feet is the only good idea I can come up with, so that’s what I do and brace for impact. The plus side to all this is that the driver’s side will take the brunt of it. If I die, then at least I’m dying protecting the girls.


Tags: Tory Baker Erotic