10. Grayson

10

GRAYSON

T he Jeep isn’t built for a drag race, but the suspension on the SUV was never meant to traverse these kinds of mountain roads. Especially not at top speed.

We begin a deadly dance, predicated on hyper fast reflexes and the ability to keep inherently squirrely vehicles under tight control. On the straight aways, the SUV catches up easily, looming in the rearview mirror and blinding us with its headlights.

On the curves, however, I leave them in the dust. Then they catch up at the next straight away, and the tango starts all over again.

“That guy’s a good driver,” I mutter through gritted teeth.

Charlotte peers behind us, worry stretching across her face.

“You can lose him, though, right?”

“Of course. But I’m not going to try.”

Charlotte gasps and stares at me in horror.

“What? Why not?”

“Because they might be part of the Order.”

I jerk the wheel hard to the right, and we screech around a sharp bend. The driver side front wheel goes off the pavement and turns a fallen branch into kindling. Bits of wood and dried bark patter against the undercarriage as we lose sight of our pursuer.

The SUV returns in my rearview mirror when I’m less than halfway up the next slope. I might actually be able to lose them, but now I’ve switched gears. Now I’m trying to lay a trap. I just hope that the other driver isn’t as familiar with the area as I am.

“Um, if you’re going to try and catch this guy for interrogation, or whatever, maybe you should wait for help?”

“I’ll lose my chance if they get spooked. I’m the only one who has the subtlety this kind of work requires.”

Even as the words come out of my mouth, I regret them.

Am I talking tough to impress her, or because I’m worried I might be wrong this time?

We come to a steep incline, nearly 20 degrees. The SUV flounders a bit, but I surge forward. At the crest of the hill I downshift and hit the brakes. We still catch a couple feet of air, despite my efforts.

The jeep slams down hard. One of Charlotte’s earrings comes loose and flies past me, narrowly missing the bridge of my nose. I snap the wheel left and then right, evening out our course. The right front wheel goes off road, sending a cascade of stones and dust skittering down an almost vertical drop. Charlotte goes white, her hand holding the roll bar in a death grip.

Behind us, I hear the SUV’s engine whine as it catches air. The big, black truck bounces around crazily and slams into a tree. I begin to slow, thinking this might be my chance to lay hands on the driver.

But kudos to the engineering team behind the SUV are in order, because other than a crumpled fender it seems in perfect working order.

“I should reach out to that truck manufacturer for an endorsement deal,” Charlotte snaps as we screech around another sharp bend.

We make it around the bend, and I see what I’ve been waiting for: A sharp left turn onto a short gravel road terminating in a cyclonic fence gate choked with overgrown weeds.

“Brace yourself.”

“I hate it when you say thaaaaat!”

I flatten the gas pedal to the floor. Charlotte’s scream pierces my ears as we slam right into the overgrown fence. The rusted chain snaps like cheap toilet paper and we don’t even slow down as the gates fly open.

We catch air again, a lot this time. The jeep drops almost a dozen feet through the air, giving us a second to contemplate the sloped concrete sides of the flood sluice we now find ourselves in.

The jeep crushes its shocks to full compression on impact. We bounce a little as I swerve around to regain control, but out in the middle of the sluice there’s nothing to hit.

I slam on the brakes and do another handbrake turn, leaving twin black rubber trails on the concrete as I come to a screeching halt.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Charlotte says.

I look over at her. Charlotte’s lovely black hair now spreads all over her head and face like wild vines. Sweat shines on her visible skin, and her chest heaves with heavy pants.

“I’m sorry. I know this has been rough. If I didn’t think it was a great shot to get you out of danger once and for all, I wouldn't take the risk.”

The SUV’s gunning engine sounds through the break in the trees.

“Now we just wait for the idiot to try the same maneuver, then swoop in and pick up the pieces.”

“What?” Charlotte says as the SUV appears at the top of the twelve foot drop.

The driver slams on the brakes, but it’s too late. The SUV lands as much on its nose as its front tires, creating a terrific smash. Glass and chrome shower to the ground as the SUV comes to a halt, for good this time. A hissing cloud of steam spews from the radiator, filling the air with the sickly sweet smell of antifreeze as I undo my seat belt and get out of the Jeep.

“Stay here and keep your head down. The firewall of the jeep is practically bulletproof.”

“Oh Jesus,” Charlotte says as I draw my .38. Not the biggest caliber, but it doesn’t have to be. It’s accurate and reliable, and easy to conceal.

I approach the ruined SUV, gun leading the way. A man’s groan carries over the susurrus of steam and the popping of the overheated engine. I come around the side and find the driver holding a hand to his bleeding forehead.

“Get out.”

I undo his seat belt and hook my fingers underneath his jawbone. The pressure point allows me to drag him out of the truck, whether he wants to go or not. Not that he can offer much resistance in his current state.

He spills out onto the concrete and I put a foot on his chest, and a gun in his face.

“You’re with the Order, aren’t you?”

“What?”

He blinks blood out of his eyes, staring up at me with apparent confusion.

“I’m not with the government! I swear to god! I’m just a photographer. I’m a photographer, see?”

He points a shaking finger into the ruined cabin of the SUV. I peer inside and see an expensive looking camera in pieces.

“Bullshit. You expect me to believe you’re a paparazzi?”

He nods vigorously and pulls a media pass out of his pocket. “I am, I really am. I spotted Charlotte at the party. I just wanted a scoop, that’s all. Everyone is talking about her since she’s been having trouble with Anonymous or whatever.”

He’s coherent enough, though obviously shaken. I can’t see anything that refutes his story.

“You fucking idiot! You almost got all of us killed for what? A damn picture? You need to get a real job…”

My voice trails off as I notice a pair of headlights up on the gravel road.

“Who’s that? One of your paparazzi friends?”

His face wrinkles up.

“What? I don’t know who that is. I crashed the party alone.”

The headlights dwindle as the vehicle backs up. I can’t even tell what kind of car it is from down here. There’s nothing I can do but watch them pull away.

“Another one,” I murmur. “There was another car following us.”

Jax was right. I should have waited.

And while I wasted time nabbing a worthless paparazzi, someone actually dangerous might have given me the slip.

I look back to the Jeep, where Charlotte’s eyes peer over the dashboard, filled with fear.

What am I going to tell her now?