Page 58 of Maximum Bet

I can’t help the laughter that bubbles up in my chest. “He might have some questions about that one.”

Cecilia smirks as her eyes meet mine in the reflection of the rearview mirror. “It wouldn’t be my first traffic indiscretion.”

“Guys,” Natalie says. “They’re getting closer.”

Sadie groans again, holding her belly.

“Breathe through the pain,” I tell her. I have no idea if that’s the right advice. But she listens anyway, starting what I recognize as Lamaze breathing.

“Uh, oh.” Cecilia clicks her tongue and glances in her side mirror. “Natalie, would you be a dear and see if there are any weapons in the glove box?”

“What?” Natalie scoffs. “Are you kidding me?” But she does what she’s told, opening the glove box and digging around. “I don’t see anything.”

“Cassandra,” Cecilia says, voice tight. “Would you check beneath the seats?”

Before I bend to complete my task, I twist and look behind us. “Oh, fuck.”

A man hangs out the passenger seat window of the Lexus, a semi-automatic aimed toward Cecilia’s beamer.

I scramble, rubbing my hands under the front seats on the floor of the car. As much as I pray I won’t, I come up empty.

“Nothing,” I say, breathing hard.

Cecilia changes lanes, weaving through a set of cars before running a red light and sending a crossover into the median.

“Oops,” she gasps. “I feel so bad. Did anyone get their license plate? I should send a card with some money.”

“Seriously?” Natalie snaps. “Did we get their license plate?”

Cecilia shrugs, then, from the third lane to the left, jerks the car to the right, skidding into the turn lane for the freeway.

“Desert Canyon Memorial is only two exits up. Natalie, call them and tell them we’re on our way. Make sure they know Cecilia Tariello is with you.”

“Did Lucas answer the texts?” Sadie asks.

“No,” Natalie says, with a weak smile, before searching for the number to Desert Memorial and placing the call. “Hello, can I have labor and delivery, please?”

Pings of bullets hitting metal make Sadie and me peer out the back window.

“Cecilia, they’re gaining on us,” I warn.

She crosses three lanes, cutting off a big rig, whose horn subsequently blares at us.

“Hold on,” she says. “I have an idea.” Merging out of the lane, Cecilia drives us onto the shoulder and slows. She allows the big rig and a large SUV to pass before merging back into traffic.

“What the—” I stop mid-sentence as I realize the car chasing us is now fifty yards ahead, just passing the big rig. “Holy shit, that was brilliant!”

“I have my moments.” Cecilia beams.

“Okay, the hospital is sending staff outside to wait for us,” Natalie says. “They said to pull into the valet parking up front.”

“Hopefully, they can hide this car before anyone finds us.” I watch the black Lexus weaving through cars up ahead, clearly thinking we’ve gotten further in front of them.

As if she’s always been a perfectly proper driver, Cecilia merges toward the exit, going the exact speed limit.

“Almost there,” she says as we reach the off-ramp.

Collectively, we hold our breath as we make the green light coming off the freeway.