our charge.
The hit of nitrous was already waning.
One fifty.
I searched for the next opportunity.
They’re setting up the first roadblock, Alice noted. Neither of us was concerned. They were building it too close to intercept us. We’d be past it before they could pull it together.
And the second. She showed me the spot on the map in her head. Far enough ahead that it would be a problem, even with another window opening in just four seconds.
I considered my options while Alice showed me the consequences. The time was too short—we had no choice but to switch cars.
Abstracted, I flipped up the safety and depressed “Go Go 2.” The STI kicked forward obediently.
One seventy.
One eighty.
Alice showed me the specific vehicles available ahead and I sifted through our choices.
The Corvette would be cramped, and our combined weight would be more of a factor than it was with this street racer. I mentally drew a line through a few other vehicles. And then Alice saw it—a glossy black BMW S1000 RR. Top speed one ninety.
Edward, it’s impossible.
The image of myself astride the sleek black motorcycle was so appealing that for a second I ignored her.
Edward, you’re going to need every one of us.
Suddenly her thoughts were full of mayhem and blood, human and inhuman screaming, the sound of shredding metal. Carlisle was at the center, his hands dyed glistening red.
Jasper kept me from steering off the road. His grip on my emotions was so strong in that second that it felt like a fist clenched tight around my throat.
Together we forced my mind back to the lanes in front of me. It was the shortest part of the journey we’d have left; the car didn’t matter so much. Alice flipped through sedans, minivans, and SUVs.
There it was. A brand-new Porsche Cayenne Turbo, too new for plates yet—top speed one eighty-six—already adorned with a stick-figure family on the back window. Two daughters and three dogs.
A family would slow us. Alice used my decision to take this car and looked ahead into what that meant. Luckily there was only the driver inside. A thirty-something female with a dark brown ponytail.
Alice couldn’t see Bella on the sidewalk anymore. That part was past now. As was the parking lot. Bella was inside with the tracker.
I let Jasper keep me focused.
“We’re changing cars under the next overpass,” I warned them.
Alice assigned our roles in a trilling voice, the words flowing faster than the speed of a hummingbird’s wings.
Carlisle dug through his bag.
Emmett flexed unconsciously.
I overtook the white SUV, hating the necessity of slowing down to pace it. Every second I lost, Bella would pay for in pain. Against all my instincts, I shifted down to fourth gear.
The BMW motorcycle sped out of reach. I repressed a sigh.
The overpass was half a mile ahead. The shadow that it threw was only fifty-three feet long; the sun was almost directly above us now.
I started to crowd the Cayenne toward the left. She changed lanes. I followed quickly, then straddled the lane lines so that I was halfway into hers. She started to slow and so did I.
Alice helped me time it. I pulled slightly ahead of the Cayenne and then steered left again, forcing my way into her lane while decelerating sharply. The driver slammed on the brakes.
Just behind us, the Corvette I’d considered before swerved into another lane, laying on the horn as he passed. The whole traffic amoeba lurched to the right as one to avoid us.
We came to a full stop in the last ten feet of shade.
All of us exited simultaneously. Curious faces flew by us at seventy miles per hour.
The driver of the Cayenne was climbing out of her car, too, her face in a scowl and her ponytail swinging with rage. Carlisle darted forward to meet her. She had one second to react to the fact that the most handsome man she’d ever seen was responsible for running her off the road, and then she was collapsing into him. She probably hadn’t even had time to feel the prick of the needle.
Carlisle carefully laid her unconscious body on the raised concrete shelf beside the shoulder. I took the driver’s seat. Jasper and Alice were already in the back. Alice had the door open for Emmett. He was crouched beside the STI, his eyes on Alice, waiting for her command. Alice watched the traffic racing toward us for the moment of least damage.
“Now,” she cried.
Emmett flipped the gaudy STI into the oncoming traffic.
It rolled into