had a choice: continue straight onto the high-speed expressway or take the far-right exit.
“Oh, I get it. You don’t want Rico to know that we know that he’s right behind us.”
He glanced into the rearview mirror, the driver of the Audi in the process of handing a bill to the attendant. “Let’s hope the bastard falls for the charade because”—he slammed his foot onto the accelerator, cutting in front of a boxy minivan, then a sporty red coupe, and finally the mattress-laden pickup—“we’re taking the next exit.”
The sudden burst of fuel catapulted the Yaris to forty miles per hour, tires squealing as he jerked the steering wheel to the right, barely managing to stay on the roadway as they veered onto the sharply curved exit ramp. According to the green sign that they’d just passed under, they were headed toward Jamestown, a seaside village on the southern end of the island. He sped through the stop sign at the end of the exit ramp.
Edie twisted in her seat to peer out the back window. “Punch it! Pedal to the metal! He’s right behind us!”
“Damn! The bastard has quick reflexes,” he muttered, remembering how the beautiful young man bested him at the House of the Temple. Their pursuer, driving a far more powerful vehicle, had no difficulty keeping pace.
He glanced at the speedometer: 75 mph. A safe enough speed on an expressway. A more precarious speed on a narrow two-lane coastal byway.
“Any idea how fast this old girl will go?”
Staring at the wobbling speedometer—as though by such action she could telepathically dictate a speedier progression—Edie groaned, “Not fast enough.”
He spared another glance into the rearview mirror, wondering how long they could maintain this high-speed chase. “Can you—Shag it!” he exclaimed a half second later when, just ahead of them, a truck suddenly veered onto the roadway from a side street. Still cursing, he slammed on the brakes, the Yaris fishtailing from side to side. A short ton broom sweeping the roadway clear of debris.
Beside him, Edie did a fair imitation of a crash dummy, her upper body propelled forward before the constraints of the nylon shoulder harness jerked her back into place.
No time to inquire how she fared, he stomped down on the accelerator as he swerved into the opposite lane, entreating the powers that be to grant them safe passage. At seventy-five miles per hour, they’d never survive a head-on smashup.
“ Godspeed is suddenly taking on a whole new meaning,” Edie rasped, her right hand cinched around the door handle, the left clutching the armrest.
Safely passing the truck, he peered into the rearview mirror, verifying what he already suspected; that the Audi had also successfully navigated around the slow-moving obstacle.
“It appears that we’re about to have an unexpected visitor,” he informed Edie, the Audi zooming toward them, still in the left lane. He wound down the driver’s-side window. “Quick! Hand me your mobile phone!”
“By the time the state troopers get here, we’ll be roadside fatalities. In case you haven’t noticed, his is bigger. Meaning he can easily ram us off the road.”
“Just hand me the blasted mobile!” he impolitely ordered, thinking Edie’s truculence strangely misplaced.
She passed her iPhone just as the Audi came parallel to them. Snatching the device in his right hand, he held it like he would a pistol. Then, his left arm rigidly positioned at a ninety-degree angle from his body—hopefully obscuring the fact that he wielded a mobile phone rather than a loaded weapon—he took aim at the parallel vehicle.
The illusion worked, the driver of the Audi hitting the brakes as he repositioned his vehicle directly behind them.
Admittedly relieved, he returned the iPhone.
Beside him, Edie insistently jabbed her finger in the air. “Look! Up ahead on the right! It’s a golf course!”
“Perfect.” He abruptly swerved to the right, the back end of the Yaris
“Oh, I get it. You don’t want Rico to know that we know that he’s right behind us.”
He glanced into the rearview mirror, the driver of the Audi in the process of handing a bill to the attendant. “Let’s hope the bastard falls for the charade because”—he slammed his foot onto the accelerator, cutting in front of a boxy minivan, then a sporty red coupe, and finally the mattress-laden pickup—“we’re taking the next exit.”
The sudden burst of fuel catapulted the Yaris to forty miles per hour, tires squealing as he jerked the steering wheel to the right, barely managing to stay on the roadway as they veered onto the sharply curved exit ramp. According to the green sign that they’d just passed under, they were headed toward Jamestown, a seaside village on the southern end of the island. He sped through the stop sign at the end of the exit ramp.
Edie twisted in her seat to peer out the back window. “Punch it! Pedal to the metal! He’s right behind us!”
“Damn! The bastard has quick reflexes,” he muttered, remembering how the beautiful young man bested him at the House of the Temple. Their pursuer, driving a far more powerful vehicle, had no difficulty keeping pace.
He glanced at the speedometer: 75 mph. A safe enough speed on an expressway. A more precarious speed on a narrow two-lane coastal byway.
“Any idea how fast this old girl will go?”
Staring at the wobbling speedometer—as though by such action she could telepathically dictate a speedier progression—Edie groaned, “Not fast enough.”
He spared another glance into the rearview mirror, wondering how long they could maintain this high-speed chase. “Can you—Shag it!” he exclaimed a half second later when, just ahead of them, a truck suddenly veered onto the roadway from a side street. Still cursing, he slammed on the brakes, the Yaris fishtailing from side to side. A short ton broom sweeping the roadway clear of debris.
Beside him, Edie did a fair imitation of a crash dummy, her upper body propelled forward before the constraints of the nylon shoulder harness jerked her back into place.
No time to inquire how she fared, he stomped down on the accelerator as he swerved into the opposite lane, entreating the powers that be to grant them safe passage. At seventy-five miles per hour, they’d never survive a head-on smashup.
“ Godspeed is suddenly taking on a whole new meaning,” Edie rasped, her right hand cinched around the door handle, the left clutching the armrest.
Safely passing the truck, he peered into the rearview mirror, verifying what he already suspected; that the Audi had also successfully navigated around the slow-moving obstacle.
“It appears that we’re about to have an unexpected visitor,” he informed Edie, the Audi zooming toward them, still in the left lane. He wound down the driver’s-side window. “Quick! Hand me your mobile phone!”
“By the time the state troopers get here, we’ll be roadside fatalities. In case you haven’t noticed, his is bigger. Meaning he can easily ram us off the road.”
“Just hand me the blasted mobile!” he impolitely ordered, thinking Edie’s truculence strangely misplaced.
She passed her iPhone just as the Audi came parallel to them. Snatching the device in his right hand, he held it like he would a pistol. Then, his left arm rigidly positioned at a ninety-degree angle from his body—hopefully obscuring the fact that he wielded a mobile phone rather than a loaded weapon—he took aim at the parallel vehicle.
The illusion worked, the driver of the Audi hitting the brakes as he repositioned his vehicle directly behind them.
Admittedly relieved, he returned the iPhone.
Beside him, Edie insistently jabbed her finger in the air. “Look! Up ahead on the right! It’s a golf course!”
“Perfect.” He abruptly swerved to the right, the back end of the Yaris
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