Page 120 of Crimson Love

I can’t stop screaming, but I don’t look up. We turn and swerve left and right and left again on a patch of ice. Horns honk in unison. It feels like it did when the semi was chasing us.

But the semi didn’t have a gun.

“Are you okay?” Jett growls over the sound of wind whistling through the broken window.

I sit up and glance out the side mirror. “He’s following us!”

Jett shoves his cell at me. “Call nine-one-one. Tell them to get hold of Dean. Let him know where we are and that we found Reed fucking Shaw.”

My fingers shake as I do what he says. We’re on a two-lane road, racing back to Winslet faster than we should be in these conditions.

The dispatcher barely has a chance to answer when I interrupt. “This is Lennon Shaw. I’m with Jett Cross. We’re on country road seventeen headed west toward Winslet. We were shot at. A black SUV is following us. It’s my father, Reed Shaw. Call Chief Moretti. Please!”

“Fuck,” the dispatcher growls. “Stay on the line. I’m dispatching units to you now, then I’ll call Dean.”

Jett puts an arm across my chest and presses me into my seat. “Hang on, baby.”

“What—” but I don’t get a chance to ask. The SUV rams us from behind right before a gunshot breaks the glass out of the back window.

I scream.

“Dammit,” Jett yells and fishtails back and forth.

I turn and look through broken glass just in time to see my dad hit the gas. The gun remains aimed at us through the driver’s window. “He’s coming again!”

“Fuck this.” Jett’s arm across my chest becomes a band of steel. “Brace.”

And the next thing I know, Jett hits the brakes.

We skid and swerve.

When it happens, the impact is earsplitting. The sting of the airbags fill the cab and strike my face. They take my breath away. Jett doesn’t let up on the brakes, and my dad’s SUV crashing into ours thrusts us forward until we spin out into a ditch.

Once the truck comes to a jolting stop, the engine dies and smoke billows into the cold air.

Jett pushes the airbags away, and I cough and sputter. We both turn to look out the back window. Dad’s SUV spiraled into the ditch across the road. The front looks like a pancake. Jett turns to me. “Stay on the phone and do not get out of the truck. Do you understand?”

I realize I’m still gripping the cell with dear life and only focus on him. “What are you —”

He reaches for his door and has to push on it three times to get it to open. “I’m going to take care of your father once and for all.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

DEAD. ALIVE.

Jett

I almost wipe out on a patch of ice as I run through the wind and snow. My new truck might be totaled, but it’s nothing compared to Reed’s that’s now unrecognizable in the opposite ditch.

I approach from the side. The windows are tinted so dark, I can barely make out a figure draped across the steering wheel. I move to the rear and struggle through the ditch. Snow soaks into my shoes. I was not prepared to hike through a foot of heavy, wet powder to the man who tried to take my future from me.

I’m almost to the driver’s side door where the window is down.

Shit.

He’s not draped over the steering wheel any longer. The side mirror is cracked. I can barely see inside. I press myself to the side of the SUV as I inch along. I’m almost to the driver’s door when the gun pops out the window.

I lunge for it.