Page 55 of Rear View

Ryah

My head pounded as my blood drummed behind my eyes. The hum of Barlowe’s tires filtered in, the whir of his fast-moving engine loud.

Leaning against the front passenger door, I stared wide-eyed out into the bleak, dark night. The headlights lit the Hawthorne Circuit sign before those all--too-familiar mountains came clear in the distance.

Adrenaline seared my veins, my body trembling. But I couldn’t let the panic take over. I needed to think.

“You’ve been a bad girl, Ryah Jane,” Barlowe crooned, then accelerated. The car lurched toward the security gate. My arms flew up, shielding my face as we crashed through it. Metal shrieked against the bumper before that gate tore away and we blew by.

My body went rigid, my brows lowering as I shifted in my seat to glare at him. He veered us toward the mountainside, then started climbing.

Gesturing at the road ahead, he said, “Your boyfriend took you here once.”

He had. Teaching me how to drive…and breathe again. But I hadn’t shared that day widely, which meant only one thing. “You were tracking me.”

“Always.” Barlowe lifted a shoulder, then, as if I were an idiot, said, “How else would I keep tabs?”

I needed to keep him talking. For what, I had no clue, but the blaring warning in the back of my mind told me it mattered. “Why me?”

He stared straight ahead, menace brimming in those cold, calculating eyes. “Because it amused me to control you. Because it was fun to see your fear.” His stare raked my way, sending a chill down my spine. “Because I could .”

He was twisted beyond help or reason, so talking my way out wasn’t possible. But the gun…where the hell was the gun? My gaze flicked around. “Why take me here? Why take me at all?”

“Because you and Stanley caused a very big problem for me. I can’t go back anymore. My options have run out. And I’m simply not willing to share.” He flourished his hand. “The setting is apropos. It’s too bad, really. You were so obedient until that driver came along.”

I rubbed my scar and swallowed hard. My attention darted across the car as I looked for something— anything —to defend myself with. Light caught on the butt of his gun where it poked from the belt of his dress pants. My heart drummed in my chest. “He’ll come, you know.”

His lip arced up. “Sooner or later.”

My tone darkened when I vowed, “Sooner. Much goddamn sooner.” Taking a deep breath, I steeled myself. Three. Two. One. I lunged, grabbing for the gun.

He cursed, the wheel jerking when he latched on to my wrist. The car skidded as he fought to keep control. My fingers brushed the cold metal.

Close. I was so close!

He swung his elbow, catching me in the jaw, and I cried out. His window hummed when he put it down. Tugging the gun free, he tossed it.

“No!” I cried, my stomach plummeting.

“Stupid little bitch,” he snarled, his nostrils flaring as his body torqued, an arm shooting out. His fist connected with my cheek.

My head snapped to the side while white spots painted my vision, and I moaned.

“What did you tell your driver, Ryah Jane?” he hissed.

Wetness trickled down my face and I swiped it with my palm. When I answered, I enunciated every syllable as I snarled, “Everything.”

A loud whooping carried through the night. Something caught in my periphery and my eyes flicked to the left.

A helicopter flew over the city, its spotlight following something. Or someone. I peered down the mountain. A spray of red and blue lights exploded onto the Hawthorne Circuit grounds. The helicopter shifted course, then aimed our way.

They’d come!

Barlowe’s eyes darted around like he looked for a solution. But he’d backed himself into a corner. Only problem was, he’d backed me in with him.

My lungs clenched as the painted lines of the road whipped past, dizzyingly fast. “Just give up, Barlowe. You’re caught. The school knows. The cops know. You’ve been had. It’s done.”

He shook his head and tsked. “When will you learn, Ryah Jane. You’re not in control here.”

My gaze landed on that helicopter again when its spotlight fixed on us, and a message blared over a loudspeaker. “Pull the vehicle over. Stop. Pull the vehicle over.”

The smile I offered Barlowe was so acidic, it was a wonder he didn’t burn. “And neither are you.”

His brow flicked up, a sheer challenge. “Why don’t we just see about that, shall we?” He threw his phone at me. “Call your driver.”

I blinked. “What?”

He took a hairpin turn, his weight shifting as the tires screeched. “Call him. Put it on speaker.”

“Why?”

He ground his teeth, his jaw pulsing under the movement. “Because I said so, Ryah Jane.”

I didn’t know Barlowe’s game, but I wanted to talk to Xavier. Needed to hear his voice. Taking up the device, I dialed. It rang once. Twice.

He answered and the zzt of a loud engine carried across the line. “Hello?” The word was stiff, like he was on edge and ready to break.

His voice. Just the sound of it did me in, crumbling the walls I’d tried so hard to hold in place. A sob broke from my chest. “Xavier.”

“Ryah?” he said, relief and rage and hope and a torrent of other emotions I couldn’t dwell on in those words.

“I’m here,” I murmured.

“Tell me you’re alright, darlin’.”

Another sob broke free, and I doubled forward.

He inhaled heavily. “Is Barlowe there?” he asked, his tone level.

He knew. Thank God, he knew ! “Yes,” I breathed. “I’m sorry, Xavier. I shouldn’t have left. Should’ve stayed there with you. I’m so sorry.”

“Nah. No apologies, dream girl.”

“No, Xavier, I—”

“We’re good, you and me,” he said, the words thick. “We’ll always be good. Never doubt that, yeah.”

The spotlight from the helicopter left Barlowe’s car and tracked to something that approached us from behind.

Barlowe’s eyes darted to the rear view. I spun in my seat to see what was happening.

The loud cracking rumble of an engine carried up the mountainside.

A car drifted around the switchback behind us, snow arcing high in its wake.

That spotlight caught on its neon green shade and decals… when it could keep up.

Xavier. Xavier!

My heart pounded in my chest, beating against my ribs.

Farther below, the cops climbed, headed our way. Barlowe shifted, his arms straight and hands locked on the wheel as his savage stare fixed ahead of us. He had no more options. No way out. Which left only one of two possibilities on the table: surrender, or—

I followed his line of sight toward the jagged rock face to the right, then to the sparse trees and empty air of the mountainside to the left, before landing on the guardrail several hundred feet away—one with a devastating cliff beyond it.

Barlowe hit the gas harder. He wasn’t slowing. Why isn’t he slowing?

My lungs seized. The cliff. Oh, God. The cliff ! “No, Barlowe. Don’t do it! No, no, no !” My voice broke as I cried, “Xavier!”

His answer was a low rumble through the speaker. “I’m comin’, darlin’!”

Barlowe laughed. “I’m sure you are, Xavier. But you won’t get to her. Not in time.”

“No matter how this shakes out,” my rally driver vowed, “you die tonight.”

“I’m well aware of my fate…and hers.” Barlowe hit the gas again.

“Before this ends, I wanted you to know she’s mine.

You had her for a while, but your time’s up.

And you’ll never have her again. I wanted you to hear her voice.

Wanted you to hear her beg so you spend the rest of your life with the echo of her cries in your mind. ”

My hands flew to my mouth. “Please, Barlowe, don’t !”

“CHRIST!” Xavier said, “I’m almost there, Ryah! I’m fuckin’ comin’!”

His rally car sealed in, but he couldn’t stop us. Barlowe closed in on the guardrail. That cliff.

Three hundred feet.

I needed to say it. To tell him. My words trembled when I breathed, “I love you, Xavier.”

“Fuckin’ hell. I lov—”

Barlowe cut the call.

“NO!” I screamed. I wanted to hear him say it. One more time. I needed to!

His smile was feral and vengeful and resigned. “Let him live with knowing he never said it back.”

Tears streamed down my cheeks, staining my skin with that agony. I reached for his phone to call Xavier back, but Barlowe snatched it away.

Do something, Ryah!

Maybe if Barlowe had come for me before my life had changed, before my heart started beating again, before I’d met Xavier, maybe then I’d have rolled over and died. But it wasn’t before. And I wasn’t the same.

When Xavier had lost his brother, he hadn’t quit. He’d used it to break free. I wasn’t strong like him, but that didn’t mean I was out of options.

Barlowe had taunted me. Led me where he wanted until he’d cornered me like a pathetic little mouse.

But I wasn’t pathetic anymore.

My gaze raked over the steering wheel and his seat belt before it landed on him.