Page 119 of Luck of the Devil

Something in my chest hardened. “I guess we’ll find out once we get there.”

He accepted my answer without further questions. The side road appeared ahead, and he positioned his hands on the steering wheel, preparing to make the sharp turn.

He whipped the wheel, the back fishtailing as he turned and then he punched the engine, shooting down the road. I watched out the back window as the SUV slid past us, tires squealing as it stopped and then reversed before turning and following us.

“Now what?” I asked.

“We let them catch up,” he said as he decelerated.

“Shouldn’t we try to get ahead of them so we can be in a better position?” I countered.

“We could, but I want them to think they’re on the offensive.”

I didn’t have time to argue with him, because another SUV appeared out of nowhere, pulling in front of us from the shoulder.

Had they planned on us turning onto this road? Had we just driven into a trap?

Malcolm cursed and swerved into the oncoming traffic lane, which was thankfully clear, with no cars in sight on the deserted-looking road.

The car fishtailed, and he punched the gas, trying to shoot past the new SUV, but it rammed into the side of our car, sending us toward the shoulder on the opposite side of the road. The car behind us had caught up. It rammed into the back bumper, and our car went off the side of the road, rolling down the embankment.

Chapter 31

Raw panic slammed into me, my vision tunneling as the metallic taste of fear flooded my mouth. For a heartbeat, I was dazed. The headlights shone on a copse of trees in front of us, and it took me a few seconds to remember what had happened. Glass glittered across the dashboard from the shattered windshield. The car released an ominous groan, and I realized we’d been in a rollover accident.

Car chase.

We were run off the road.

We were in danger.

James.

I turned to face him, fear nearly paralyzing me when I saw him slumped in the driver’s seat.

Oh God.

Finally, my instincts kicked in, and I quickly unfastened my seatbelt and turned, getting on my knees so I could lean over him. I placed shaking fingers on his neck and held my breath until I felt the steady thrum of his pulse against my fingertips.

The relief nearly broke me.

I hadn’t realized how terrified I was of finding nothing there. I gently cupped his right cheek, my fingers sticky with blood, and searched his face, trying to figure out where the blood was coming from. A gash ran from close to his temple into his hairline. The cracked glass in the driver’s door told me he must have hit his head when we flipped. He likely had a nasty concussion.

“James,” I said, my fear making me sound breathless. I glanced down his body, looking for visible signs of other injuries, thankfully finding none. His seatbelt had done its job too.

But for how long? I doubted they were satisfied by running us off the road. Once they got turned around, they’d be back to finish the job. I pulled out my cellphone, but I didn’t have any service.

“James,” I said, my voice cracking despite my efforts to stay calm. I lightly patted his cheek. “I need you to wake up. Please.”

He grimaced and his eyes squinted open. “Fuck. What happened?”

“We were in an accident.”

He looked dazed, as though trying to piece it together. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. You’re the one who’s hurt.”

He studied my face, which was inches from his, and gave me a wicked grin. “Were you plannin’ to kiss me awake like Sleeping Beauty?”