11. Logan

ELEVEN

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"I can't stop yelling.

I'm a little surprised I wasn't shouting it while we were running through the warehouse with bullets flying at us. Some got super fucking close—like, close enough for me to feel it disturb the air. That's way too fucking close.

But perhaps my brain understood that I needed to save my breath for the sprint. And now that we're speeding away from the bad guys, it's free to expend oxygen on swearing.

I have no idea how long it's been since we were snatched off the street, but the sun is already high in the sky so maybe it's the next day? It feels like it's been a month.

I squint in the brightness that feels so wrong after being locked in those dark, lightless rooms. The biting winter air floods through the giant hole in the front of the car, soaking right through the thin sweater I'm wearing. My face stings from the cold, my fingers stiffen, my lips start going a little numb.

The area around us is some kind of industrial complex, with huge rectangular buildings and wide paved roadways dotted with potholes. Graffiti covers the walls and random abandoned equipment sit in corners. There are no sidewalks, no traffic lights, and not a single person in sight.

"Take the next right!" Jared shouts from the backseat.

"What?!" The next right looms ahead, approaching way too fucking fast. He wants me to turn the car? At this speed? We'll go careening around the corner and end up as pancakes against a solid concrete wall.

"I don't know how to do that!" I grip the steering wheel so hard the car swerves a little.

"Don't start the turn too early. Hold it steady. Wait for it… wait for it… Break!"

I slam on the breaks.

"Turn!"

I crank the steering wheel to the right.

"Gas!"

I stomp on the gas.

We skid and almost spin out, but then something from my teenage driving lessons kicks in and I point the top of the steering wheel toward the center of the road. We straighten and I gun it down the street.

"Holy fucking shit!"

"Nice!" Jared claps my shoulder and the praise boosts my confidence a fraction.

Maybe I won't get us killed—right away.

"Speed up! We've got incoming!"

"What?" I risk a quick glance in the rearview mirror and sure enough two of the vehicles from the warehouse are gaining on us. "Fuck! Fuck!"

"We need to lose them! Turn left there! Remember, break, turn, gas."

"Ahhh!" I scream as we go into the turn.

But I don't gauge the angles right, or maybe I turn too soon, I'm not sure. We skid and I'm still trying to straighten us out when we slam sideways into a dumpster. The back of the car takes most of the impact, near the passenger side rear wheel, and the momentum sends us spiraling in circles.

"Fuuuccck!"

We crash to a stop with the front left of the car crumpled against a wall. My head spins and my ears ring. I'm holding the steering wheel in a death grip and bile is coming up my throat. But miraculously, the car is still running and I'm still in the driver's seat. Thank fuck I remembered to put on the seatbelt.

"Oh my god! Oh my god!"

A groan comes from the back seat.

"Jay?"

He's horizontal, one hand holding his head, the other holding his thigh. His pants have been soaked through with something wet and dark and his face has gone abnormally pale.

"Oh my god! You're hurt!"

"I'm fine," he says, pain lacing his voice. "Don't stop. Keep going."

Through the back window, I watch as a car comes careening around the corner. "Oh fuck!"

I face forward again and step on it. A hair-raising screech comes from the front somewhere, but the car lurches into motion.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

Behind the car, the truck tries to take the turn at top speed. But its center of gravity is too high and the turn is too sharp. It tilts onto two wheels and seems to hover there forever. Just when it looks like it'll land on all four again, it runs over a pothole and tips over. The entire vehicle rolls onto its side, then onto its top, its tires still spinning in the air.

"Holy shit!" I scream. I can't believe that just happened. It looks like a scene taken straight out of a movie. "Holy shit!"

"Doing great. Don't slow down." In the backseat, Jay's stripping off the button-down he's wearing, leaving him in only an undershirt. He ties the shirt around his thigh and hisses when he pulls it tight.

The scent of blood hits my nose. "Are you bleeding? Is that what that is? Did you get cut? Wait, did you get shot?! You said you didn't get shot!" The image of Jared bleeding out in the backseat has my foot trying to kick the gas pedal right through the floor.

"Don't worry about me." Jared huffs, out of breath. His words are a little slurred.

"Fuck you! You need a hospital!"

"Gotta get rid of these guys first." His movements are sluggish as he tries to push himself into a seated position. "Watch out!"

"Fuck!" With my attention on Jared in the back seat, the car started veering toward the right. I wrench the steering wheel straight again.

"Keep your eyes forward. I'll be fine."

"You better fucking be fine!" Tears are streaming down my cheeks now, steaming hot against the cold winter air. We have to get out of this godforsaken industrial wasteland. We need to get to a hospital, to the police, to anyone who can help us.

Up ahead is a T-intersection. "Uh, Jay! Which way do I go?"

"Uh…" He blinks hard, like his vision is blurry and he can't get it to focus.

"Which way?! Which way?!"

"Uh, right?"

I don't like how he says that like it's a question. "Jared, are you sure?!"

He gives himself a quick shake. "Yes, go right."

"I hope to fucking god you're right. Brace yourself!"

Brake, turn, gas. We skid and the smell of burning rubber trickles into the car, but we keep going. In the backseat, there's a tumble, then a hiss and a moan.

"Jay? Jay!" I glance in the rearview mirror, but I don't see anything. "Don't you fucking die on me, you asshole! I still need to yell at you, remember!"

"Yeah, I'm still here. Still alive." His breathing is labored and every word sounds like an effort. Fuck.

A fresh wave of fear rushes through me. What if Jared loses consciousness? What do I do then? I don't know how to fight off bad guys. I don't know where I'm supposed to go to find help.

That's when I see it. Other cars. People. Civilization. "We're almost there! Almost there! Stay with me!"

My gaze is glued to that spot in the distance, so I don't notice how close our pursuers are. A bullet hits the driver's side-view mirror and I scream. More bullets hit the car with loud, terrifying thuds.

"Speed up," Jared says as he takes aim out of the back of the car. He fires off some shots and the car behind us falls back.

I can't speed up, though. In front of us is a country highway. Two lanes are head in each direction, each with shoulders, and a grassed ditch in between. It's not super busy, but there's definitely enough traffic to turn this static obstacle course into a moving one.

"Jared!"

"Use the horn. Do your best."

"Do my best?" I throw a furious look through the rearview mirror. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

But Jared doesn't have time to answer.

"Fuuuccck!" I scream, forcing myself to keep my eyes open when my instinct is to squeeze them shut. I punch the car's horn as I skid onto the highway, and the deafening blare manages to catch people's attention. Cars veer out of my way, careening into the ditch, crashing into each other.

"Sorry! Sorry!" I yell uselessly at them. "Oh my god. Move! Fucking move!"

Most of the cars ahead of us hear the horn and lurch violently out of the way. I swerve left and right, trying to avoid the others.

"Fuck! Fuck!"

There's a mess of cars in our wake, but it's doing little to slow down the car still chasing us. In the backseat, Jared's gone eerily quiet.

"Jay? Jay! Talk to me! Say something!"

"Still… here…" he mutters.

But he won't be for much longer if I don't get him to a hospital. I can't lose him. Not now, not after everything we've been through. I won't let him die in the backseat of some random car while random bad guys are chasing us. I won't.

Where the fuck is the help he called for? The police? The FBI? Why haven't they fucking shown up yet? Just then, I hear it. The faint strains of sirens in the distance. I've never heard such a sweet song in my life.

"Hang on! Help's coming! Stay with me!"

The sirens grow louder, but it's too late. The bad guys are on us. Bullets thud into the car trunk. The remaining windows shatter. I scream and try to duck while keeping us on the road.

Jared lets out a weak roar as he fires out the back window. "Don't stop until help arrives."

The car inches up on my right. If it gets too close, they'll be able to shoot right into our car. I pound on the gas, but it's already pressed firmly against the floor.

"Fuck! Where are the police? Why aren't they here!"

More bullets riddle the side of the car. Jared gets out two more shots before the gun does nothing but click. He tosses it into the footwell of the backseat.

Then suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, a giant black SUV roars onto the highway right in front of us. Red and blue lights flash and sirens echo through the air.

It lines itself up beside us and skillfully slows to match my speed. The bad guys have no choice but to slow down or get crushed. Then the SUV slams on its brakes. The pursuit car crumples as it rear-ends the SUV. And the SUV takes off again, leaving the bad guys in a twisted mess of metal.

The driver's window rolls down and a woman shouts at me.

"Stop the car! Slow down gradually!"

I know I'm supposed to follow her instructions, but my foot doesn't want to cooperate. It's convinced we're still being chased and it's glued itself to the gas pedal.

"I can't! I can't!"

"Slow down!"

"I'm fucking trying!"

I try to brake with my left foot, but that only creates an ear-shattering screech and sends sparks flying from the wheels. I manage to slide my right foot off the gas pedal and the car jerks backward.

I'm thrown forward and the seatbelt punches all the air from my lungs. Pins and needles stab at my foot as the feeling slowly returns. My fingers are frozen to the steering wheel and I start to shake—violently.

The SUV skids to a stop in front of us and a woman jumps out of the driver's seat. "Jared! Jared!"

Oh my god, Jared! I spin in my seat to find Jared crumpled in the footwell.

"Jay! Jay!" I scramble to rip the seatbelt off me.

"Jared? Where are you?"

"Here! He's over here!" I try to climb into the backseat with my numb, barely cooperating limbs.

The woman rips open the door. "Jesus, fuck. Jared!"

His eyes flutter open as I pull him up to me. "Lo-Logan?"

"Yes, I'm here, babe. I'm right here. You're going to be okay. You're going to be alright."

"M-meet Vi-Victoria." Jared's lip twitches in what I think is supposed to be a smile.

"What? Who?"

"That's me. Victoria Collins, Jared's partner. I'm right here, bud. Hang on. Ambulance is on the way."

I take in the tall willowy woman with long blond hair tied into a ponytail. Under the well-fitted wool coat is a bulletproof vest with the letters FBI emblazoned across the chest. I recognize her. She's the woman I saw Jared with when I followed him the other day.

God, that feels like forever ago. But if I still needed proof that Jared was really an FBI agent, this has to be it.

I slump back into the seat, still holding Jared as he lies half in my lap, half on the car's floor. My shaking gets worse and the cold air feels like it's freezing me from the inside out. A sob rips from my throat and yet another wave of tears pours down my cheeks.

"Jay, oh god, Jay," I cry, clutching him to me.

His hand comes up and I grasp it in my own. "Hey," he says, so quietly I have to bend down to hear him. "Wanted… to tell you…"

"Shh, no, save your breath."

He gives me a minute head shake. "Can't wait… need you… to know… I… love you."