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“Well you see, I’m trying to convince my father to buy it, actually,” I smirk, running my thumb across my lips. “You know men with old money, they need so much convincing.”
The man’s eyes widen when he realizes that there’s a possible sale happening, and he changes his tune. “Yes, of course. Let me show you to it.”
When he lets me in it, I wipe my hand over the wheel, feeling how comfortable it fits in my hands. When the man looks away, I quickly grab the jammer from my pocket, placing it under the dash.
When this is over and I take it, it’ll keep it from being tracked.
I spend a few minutes in it, taking videos and pictures to send my fake father. When I’m done, I slide out, thank the man, and head off to find Brandon and Zach.
And then we wait for the end of the event.
Hitting the gas, I’m out the door in seconds and racing to catch up to her. Out of all the cars in that room, this is one of the few that can possibly keep up with her while also lying relatively low. People tend to notice a McLaren racing through the streets of DC. While my Exorcist Camaro is nothing but normal, to an everyday person, it looks to be.
It doesn’t take too long for me to catch up with her, flashing my headlights. We’re going around two hundred miles per hour, and I can see the distant lights from the city through the trees.
I would wonder how she was able to figure out how to work the navigation system, but in my experience, women figure out everything. I don’t know how they do it, but they do.
A moment later, flashes of red and blue go off behind me, and I curse, hitting the wheel with my palm. We’re going much too fast for them to catch up to us right now, but the city streets are a much different story. She’s not going to know what to do.
We cannot get caught, no matter what.
So I speed ahead of her. I don’t bother turning on my signal for the empty street, rushing by her before pulling in front. She hits the brakes, scared she’ll drive into me, and I can see her surprised, annoyed face through her windshield illuminated by my taillights.
She looks in her rearview mirror, watching the cops get closer and closer, and I speed up, hoping and praying she knows what I’m doing. We need to get away from them. If the cops get her, she’s doomed.
Sure enough, she keeps up with me, and soon we’re entering the city, slowing down significantly as cars rush by. Moving over into one of the other lanes, I hang back, opening the passenger window so I can yell over to her. She looks at me, her eyes narrowing as she hits the gas, but is only stuck behind another car stopped for a red light. I keep up with her, motioning for her to open her window.
After what feels like ages, she finally does, not saying a word to me.
“You need to listen to me, okay?” I tell her. “I’m going to get you out of here, but you need to doexactlywhat I tell you to do. Up here, there’s going to be a road to the left. Let me go first and follow me. Take the turn no matter what, do you hear me? The second we’re around that corner, pull into that parking garage and jump into my car, got it?”
Her eyes soften just a touch, realizing that I’m trying to help her. She nods, her fists white as she tightens her grip on the wheel.
Looking behind us, the police are catching up.
The light turns green, and I continue ahead. She slips in behind me, practically touching the bumper of my car.
The light turns yellow, and I can see oncoming traffic ready to go.
Speeding up, I turn the wheel as fast as I can, hoping that Sydney has stayed with me this whole time. I hold my breath until I see her behind me, following me still. It would have been easy for her to just keep going, leaving me in the dust.
We may be getting somewhere in the trust department. Or maybe that’s just desperation.
Turning quickly into the parking garage on the corner of the street, I don’t bother taking a ticket, instead flying through the gate, breaking it in half. I’ll worry about cameras as soon as she’s safe in my car.
Pulling to a stop, I wait for her to pull up beside me, not bothering to park in an actual space. We don’t have time. We don’t have a choice.
Turning the car off, she takes the key out of the ignition, throws the door open, and takes off toward me. She fumbles with the handle for a moment before she’s able to open it, climbing quickly inside. The second her feet are off the ground, I’m off, racing toward the other side of the garage before the police can surround it, not bothering to look both ways before pulling onto the street.
Sitting behind a string of cars at another red light, we watch as a string of police cars pull onto the road behind us, the inside of the garage flashing red and blue, the sirens echoing around us.
My fingers grip the wheel tighter. “What. The. Hell. Were you thinking?” I hiss, looking at her for the first time since she climbed in.
Her skin is pale. It’s paler than it usually is. She looks like she’s going to be sick, and although I’ve seen her shake with fear before, I can’t help but feel sorry for her now.
“I wasn’t,” she says simply, her eyes wide as she stares ahead.
“Where were you trying to go?” I ask her.
