Page 44 of Lies Beneath Secrets (Skeleton Crew #1)

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

Con

The drive to the port in Michigan is close to five hours and by the way Jasper is driving its going to take ten. “You do know the speed limit is 70?” I criticize.

“I’d rather not draw suspicion to us,” he says, flicking on his turn signal to get off on an exit.

“And driving like an old lady is going to do that? And why the fuck are you stopping off here? Need to piss again?” He’s already made two piss stops so far and I’m about to lose it on the guy.

“Need gas.” He puts the van in park next to a gas pump. “This place looks like a dump,” he comments and takes the keys from the ignition, then pockets them. Something he didn’t do the last time we stopped. I eye the action, then look around. The gas station seems almost deserted along the busy freeway. It’s still early in the day I suppose but when Jasper gets out of the van, a feeling of dread creeps up my spine. I take out my gun and put one in the chamber, keeping it in my hand. Ready for whatever is about to happen. I watch Jasper go around the van and over to the side to pump gas.

“It’s prepay,” he calls out, then walks toward the building.

I send a quick text to Knox and get out of the van when I spot three vehicles getting off the ramp and driving straight for us. I waste no time hopping over to the driver’s seat and pull out the spare keys that I’m glad I grabbed before we left. As fast as I can, I start it up and notice there is half of a tank still left. “Fucking prick,” I hiss and put the van in gear, smashing my foot into the gas pedal and pealing out of there in a scatter of gravel and dust.

“What the fuck?” Knox asks, opening the small door to get into the cab from the back. I’m about to tell him what’s happening when shooting comes from the three vehicles I had watched pull off the highway.

“That’s what the fuck,” I yell and take a sharp turn down a rural highway. No way am I getting back on the road we were just on. Too many people. Too many chances for them to get caught in the crossfire.

“Jesus. I hate it when my damn gut feelings are right.” Knox disappears into the back for a moment before coming to the passenger seat, holding a rifle with a large cylinder.

“Is that an M32? Where the fuck did you get that?” He gives me a grin, holding up the grenade launcher.

“I’m just a guy full of surprises.” He laughs and rolls down the window to get the barrel pointed at his first target. “Hold it steady,” he instructs as his body keeps going further and further out the window.

“Jesus, don’t fucking fall out,” I yell at him, doing my best to avoid the potholes in the road. It probably hasn’t been paved in years by the looks of it; keeping the van steady isn’t happening.

Glancing in the side mirror, I catch the flash of an explosion before one of the vehicles in pursuit flips over and crashes into the one behind it. “Woo!” Knox yells and reloads the weapon. “You see that shit!” He laughs and turns to me to say something else, but the van lunges forward with a bang, cutting him off.

My vision blurs as the van moves in every direction but straight down the highway. Our bodies bounce around with the will of gravity, smashing into each other and everything else that isn’t tied down. Glass shattering and metal twisting fills my ears with each roll the vehicle takes until it comes to an abrupt stop.