Page 69

“Me too. I brought this on her head.” His voice is far too tender given I’m responsible for the condition his sister is in.

I frown at him, ready to tell him he’s ridiculous, when Jake curses. “We’re being followed.”

I twist in my seat as Mick does the same. “Where?”

“Blue sedan. Second lane behind the red convertible. Get down. Both of you. I’m going to try to lose them.”

I slide down in my seat, keeping as low as I can.

“How’d they find her?” Mick asks.

“The same way we did. By keeping an ear to radio chatter,” he says.

I glance at Mick and find him grim-faced and with his hand close to his sidearm. He catches me looking and winks at me. “It’ll be fine.”

The words are hardly out of his mouth when Jake swerves, cursing loudly as we nearly collide with another car.

Mick rights himself and grasps the seat. “What’re you doing up there?”

“Not me. We blew a tire,” he yells.

I grab onto the handhold and twist around to peep through the glass. Horror surges through me as I see a man aiming a gun directly at me. “It’s not a flat! They’re shooting at us!” I yell. I shrink as far down in my seat as I can and hang on as we bump along the road, the rim of the wheel making a grinding noise.

“Don’t even think about slowing down. We’re sitting ducks!” Mick yells at Jake.

Jake barely acknowledges him, too busy trying to control the car and stop it veering into the next lane.

Alongside us, drivers are honking their horns and making obscene hand gestures.

“Call Caleb or Luke!” Jake shouts over his shoulder.

I grit my teeth as Mick hauls out his phone and dials before ramming the phone to his ear. Whoever he called must have been anticipating the call, because there’s no preamble whatsoever. They already seem to know what’s happening.

“Take the next left. Luke is going to cut them off,” Mick says.

The words have barely left his mouth when a Miami City Works truck comes up behind us at speed, blasting its siren and causing drivers to yield. Jake tears down a side street then floors it as he reaches a parking garage. While I try to catch my breath, he limps the car into a space and turns off the ignition.

He turns to look at us and grins. “I need to get a new ride. Lady’s choice.”

I turn to Mick, who releases a sigh. “Do we really need to steal a car?”

Jake’s eyebrows hike to the roof. “We aren’t stealing a car.Iam, and I’m good with it.”

I’ll bet he is. He might be part of this crazy Hightower crew, but he’s buzzing. I’ve been conning people long enough to understand why we do what we do. And while a law-abiding citizen like Mick is struggling with the morality of the situation, Jake is getting an unrivaled dopamine hit.

To lessen Mick’s guilt, I glance out the window and point to a white sedan.“There. Modified Pontiac G8.”

Mick’s eyes pop. “You want him to steal a street racer’s car?”

Jake grins then grabs something from the glove box. “Challenge accepted.”

When the door slams and he stalks off, hands in his pockets, it’s apparent he’s broken into cars before.

As I watch him work, Mick asks the obvious question. “You know about cars?”

I shrug his question off. “I know what kind of people drive certain cars.”

“How?”