Page 18 of Defending You

“Are you kidding me?” Her voice climbed an octave. “We’re stealing a car?”

“You have a better idea?” He didn’t look up, his hands moving fast, sparking the wires together. The engine sputtered to life.

She glanced back. Those guys were closing the gap, maybe fifty yards away.

She threw her suitcase in the back and started for the passenger door.

“You’re driving.” He hopped over the console, giving her the left-hand seat.

“What?” She slid inside, then stared at the stick shift like it was a live snake. “I haven’t driven a manual in years! I barely remember?—”

“Now, Cici!” His voice was curt, his eyes darting behind them.

In the rearview mirror, she saw the thugs break into a run.

She grabbed the stick and pressed the clutch. “Okay, okay—clutch in, first gear…” She eased the gas. At least the previous driver had backed in, so she didn’t have to figure out how to reverse.

The car lurched and stalled. “Dang it!”

He leaned over and hot-wired it to get it running. “Go!” Asher pulled a handgun from beneath his shirt—had he carried that the whole time? He twisted in the seat, watching the men closing in.

She tried again.

The car lurched. Then, the engine coughed and died. “I can’t do this!”

Cursing under his breath, Asher slid right into her seat—practically on top of her. “Move your legs.”

She squished to the side while steering the coasting vehicle into the lane.

His boots found the pedals. He lifted the clutch and pushed the gas pedal. The engine roared to life.

The car shot forward, Asher aiming toward the exit.

She could barely breathe, a combination of fear and his solid body pressing against hers, but she wasn’t about to complain. They were moving, no thanks to her.

“Can you take over?”

“Yes, yes.”

“Grab the wheel.” She did, and he maneuvered back to the passenger side. She managed to shift into second gear, her hands shaking but functional.

This was insane. They’d just stolen a car! “I’m not going to prison for grand theft auto!”

Asher dove into the backseat and rolled down the window.

She skidded onto a two-lane road. They were in the middle of a business district, the buildings dark, shuttered for the night. “If we get caught, I’m telling them you forced me—held a gun to my head or something. I’m not cut out for jail, Asher! I’d look terrible in orange?—”

“U-turn,” he snapped.

“What?” She barely registered the order. “I mean, I’ve got a business to run, and?—”

“U-turn! Now!”

She yanked the wheel hard, the car skidding into a sloppy arc. The wheels went off the road. She managed to angle back onto it. A car was coming toward them.

“Floor it!”

She resisted the urge to squeeze her eyes closed, pressed the gas, and shifted into third, then fourth, going way faster than the posted thirty-five-mile-per-hour speed limit. “Is that them?”