Page 422 of Devil’s Disciples

“We’re taking this entrance, fellas,” she said. “Hold on.”

We were passing the on ramp to the 5, which was on our left. That particular entrance to the highway went north, not south. I glanced at the speedometer. We were going roughly 120 miles an hour and were steadily gaining speed.

We were traveling three times the safe speed limit to take any ramp.

“What entrance?!” I shouted.

“This one!” Instead of slowing down for the corner, she punched the gas. The vehicle went into a four-wheel slide, gaining speed as it headed toward the ramp.

My stomach heaved.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Tito screeched.

“Cop blew the corner,” Cash shouted.

“He’s turning around in the ditch,” he added. “Okay. He’s back on the road. He’s still coming.”

“I’ll be to the Ted Williams before he gets to the top of this ramp,” Ally said.

We barreled up the on ramp, gaining speed steadily as Ally headed toward the freeway. I glanced at the speedometer.

160.

I grabbed the “oh shit” handle. “You’re going to merge at that speed? We’re going one fucking sixty, Ally.”

“We’re going uphill,” she said. “I can’t get it to go any faster.”

Faster?

Before I could object, we were passing cars as if they were parked obstructions in the roadway. The instant a distant object registered in my mind, we were whooshing passing it. Ally was obviously maneuvering from a quarter of a mile behind whatever it was she intended to pass.

We’d no more than got on the freeway, and she took the slow lane at 150 miles an hour. “Ted Williams, fellas. Hold on.”

“Why the fuck are we taking the Ted Williams East?” I shouted. “It’ll—”

Her eyes darted to the rearview. “I’m getting on and right back off.”

We exited the 5 at triple-digit speeds, and got on the freeway, headed east. Ten seconds later, we were barreling down an off ramp at 140 miles an hour, headed toward a red traffic light. Two cars were stopped at it, side by side.

Bile rose in my throat.

Please, Lord, not like this.

“Hold on, boys,” she warned.

We were headed right for the back of the parked cars, and there was no time to stop. I clenched the handle so tight I nearly passed out. “What the fuck are you going to—”

She shifted into the oncoming traffic lane at the last instant, narrowly missing the stopped cars. Like a roller coaster on rails, the vehicle was thrust into a 180-degree maneuver, screeching and smoking all four tires the entire time. As if that weren’t enough, we took an immediate right turn and shot through the underpass.

We barreled through the cloud of tire smoke, and toward the westbound traffic on ramp.

The police officer’s flashing lights were at the eastbound exit. Just like that, we were three steps ahead of him. My heart thrashed at the thought of evading him entirely. Even so, seeing the cop caused my sphincter shrunk to the size of a grain of sand.

I hoped like hell she knew what she was doing.

She shot up the on ramp, accelerating so rapidly that my gut was plastered against my spine.

“Didn’t you say this vehicle is wrapped?” she asked.