Page 109 of Lorenzo

“They are always nearby.”

I look through the side mirror again, scanning the road behind the sedan.

Nothing stands out.

A black SUV turns onto the road several blocks back.

Another vehicle, a silver crossover, appears from a side street ahead and continues at a normal speed.

“How many?” I ask.

“Enough.”

“What a useless answer.”

He smiles faintly. “It is the answer you’re getting.”

The sedan closes the distance suddenly.

The driver has realized we are testing them.

“Lorenzo,” I warn.

“I see it.”

Lorenzo accelerates.

The engine responds immediately, pushing me back against the seat as we gain speed.

Mocha lifts his head.

“Stay,” I tell him.

His body tenses, but he remains where he is.

The sedan follows, weaving around a slower vehicle and cutting back into our lane.

“I guess the time for subtlety is over,” I say.

“Yes,” he responds.

Lorenzo takes another turn hard enough that the tires bite against the pavement.

I brace one hand against the door.

The sedan follows too fast, swinging wide before correcting.

The black SUV stays behind it. Closer now.

The silver crossover slows ahead of us, forcing Lorenzo to move left before it accelerates again.

For half a second, I think it is blocking us.

Then I understand.

It is guiding us and the sedan.

The SUV closes in from the rear, leaving the driver little room to slow or turn away. The crossover stays ahead and slightly to the right, controlling which lane remains open.