Page 53 of Challenge Me

You gave me a grim smile. “That’s more like it.”

You hauled yourself into my seat, dragging the injured leg after you. Pain twisted across your face when your boot struck the footwell, but you refused to make a sound.

I fastened the belt across you. “You steer,” I ordered. “I’ll handle the rest.”

“Controlling bastard,” you grinned, and I rolled my eyes.

◆◆◆

The getaway truck– a Ford F-150– stood no chance against me, even with a few minutes’ head start. I caught up with it on the highway, bringing the truck’s passenger window level with my driver’s side.

You turned your head as the man looked across at you. Blood covered half your face. Your hair streamed around your shoulders, whipping in the wind and rain blasting through the open window. One hand rested casually on my wheel while the other lifted in a small, almost courteous wave.

The driver’s terror was beautiful.

It was my turn, now; my engine snarled as I twisted and slammed myself into the truck, crushing its passenger door inward. Metal screamed against my side, but I held steady and shoved the truck toward the shoulder. The driver fought the wheel, tires throwing smoke as the truck bounced across the uneven road.

“Again,” you purred in delight, and it was truly my pleasure.

I fell back just enough to change my angle and then rammed behind the truck’s rear wheel.

The F-150 spun, its rear end sweeping across the road before slamming into the drainage barrier; its momentum lifted the passenger side off the ground. For one breathless second, the entire vehicle balanced on two wheels before it slid off the road and down the shallow hill below.

I hit the brakes, but an old tank like me wasn’t made to stop in a hurry. My tires screamed on the rain-slicked road as I lost traction, following the truck over the edge.

You braced against my wheel, injured leg trembling as we bounced and skipped to a stop. Mercifully, we hadn’t rolled, but a tiny snap sounded somewhere beneath my dashboard, and my every gauge died at once. My headlights vanished as power drained from my body like blood pouring from an open wound.

The world went black.

You straightened in my seat. “Ghost?”

Your hand struck my dashboard, searching through the darkness.

“Ghost.”

This time, there was fear in your voice.

I tried to tell you I was still there, but the impact had blown my main fuse. I was blind and mute, and you were stranded, injured, with a killer that was slowly climbing out of the cab of his Ford F-150.

Chapter Nineteen

Lai

“Ghost?” My voice came out thin, barely more than breath. I blinked, trying to force the darkness into focus, and found myself squinting at the steering wheel. Blood streaked the leather beneath my finger.

My blood.

“Ghost?” I called again. My memories, briefly jostled from my mind by the crash, were returning in violent fragments; the garage, a man going down beneath my dagger, the scream of tires, Ghost losing control, his brakes shrieking as we left the road, and—

“Ghost! Ghost!” I called out again, reaching for the ignition, turning it over. The car gave a weak shudder, but there were no lights, no radio–no Ghost. I pressed both palms against the steering wheel. “Come on, cowboy. This is hardly the time for sulking.”

Still nothing, but movement beyond Ghost’s windscreen caught my attention.

The F-150 had come to a crooked stop further down the embankment, its rear wheels buried in the churned-up mud. The truck wasn’t going anywhere, but I felt my stomach clench sickly as its driver’s boot slammed against the inside of the door, once, twice, kicking it open.

“Oh, wonderful. Ghost?” I called one last time. Fear was trying to push its way into my chest, but I choked it back down. I had survived worse scenarios than this with fewer resources and considerably less blood remaining inside my body. I took stock of my injuries as the man grunted and squirmed his way free; my vision didn’t pass the check, clouded by blood from a split on my temple, but my arms were cooperating; that eased my panic, a little. My right leg, however, was little more than a heavy and largely decorative chunk of meat, trapped in the footwell. I could feel it, which was encouraging, but it refused to obey commands.

I’d live, assuming the other guy didn’t manage to kill me. Ghost was my biggest concern right then, and I desperately needed his help.