can’t let Galen find us until I’m ready for him to, until I have a plan B all sorted out in the event that he’s the one lying. But my trustworthiness has nothing to do with why I might steer us off course. We don’t have our cell phones, which means we don’t have GPS, which means I should be paying attention to road signs, which means I shouldn’t be blinking for more than two seconds at a time like I am.
It’s just that this road is so straight and boring with hardly any other cars and I can’t turn the radio on because Mom is sleeping and since Mom is sleeping there’s no one to talk to and—
Whoa. My eyes must be playing tricks on me.
Did we just pass Rachel?
No, it couldn’t be. It wasn’t even Rachel’s car; Galen just bought her a classy little white BMW. The one that passed was a four-door blue something that Rachel wouldn’t be caught dead in. Except, the driver looked like her twin sister. All big hair and red lipstick and matching acrylic nails draped menacingly over the steering wheel.
I adjust the rearview mirror and follow the blue car with my eyes without blinking, until my eyes feel like they’ve pickled inside my head. Just when I think we’re in the clear, just when I think I’m letting my imagination run wild, the blue non-Rachel car stops. Makes a sloppy U-turn. Starts speeding toward us with hazard lights flashing.
Fan-flipping-tastic. I stomp on the gas. “Mom, wake up. We’ve got a problem.”
She startles awake and whips a suspicious glance around as if I’m the one who’s kidnapped her. Nice. “Where are we?”
“I don’t know, but Rachel—the woman we told you was Galen’s mom—found us. She’s behind us in that blue car. What do you want me to do?”
Mom’s head jerks around to the back window. She curses under her breath. “Who is that woman? How did she find us?”
“She’s ex-Mafia.” I inhale, like I just admitted I’m ex-Mafia or something. It doesn’t help that Mom glares at me as if I just confessed to it, too.
“Seriously, ex-Mafia? Like, the Mafia?”
I nod.
“Poseidon’s beard,” she mutters.
I’m pretty sure I won’t get used to my mom using fishy cuss words anytime soon.
“Try to lose her.”
“It’s a long straight road with hardly any turns.”
“Well, speed up!” She pops open the glove compartment. Then pulls out a freaking gun.
“Mom—”
“Don’t start. It’s just to scare her. Usually all you have to do is show someone that you have a gun and that you’re not going to take any crap—”
“Did you hear what I said? She’s ex-Mob. Her gun probably eats guns like that for breakfast.”
She clicks the gun like a pro and three bullets pop out into her hand. Watching your mother do something like this is surreal—even under the circumstances. “Three,” she breathes. “It’ll have to do.”
Panic closes off my windpipe. “What happened to just showing it to her?”
“Like you said. She’s ex-Mob.”
“You can’t shoot her. You just can’t.” But she reloads like maybe she can. Suddenly I’m having a hard time staying in my lane on this long, straight road.
“I’m not going to shoot her. I’m just going to shoot at her.” Then that freaking lunatic rolls down the window. “Besides,” she grunts, “if I wanted to kill someone, it would have been Rayna.” She hangs her head out and pulls the gun through with her.
Options, options, options. Sometimes options are a luxury. Sometimes there is only one option, and usually that one option sucks. Like this time, for instance.
So, I take my one option and swerve off the road.
I hear the gunshot right before we hit.
6
GROM IS playing a game on Galen’s cell phone when it rings. Startled, he drops it as if it burned his hand. Galen laughs before he can stop himself. Grom shoots him a sour look but hands him the phone.
“Hey, Rachel,” Galen says, still grinning.
“Where are you?” Her voice sounds shaken—something Galen’s never heard before.
“We just passed a town called Freeport. Why?”
“You’re close then. Good. I found Emma and her mom.”
Relief swirls through him, but he knows better than to trust it. Especially with the way Rachel’s voice sounds strained. “Where? Are they with you?”
“Galen.” Rachel never calls him Galen, only sweet pea. Even when she’s mad at him, she just says it through clenched teeth. Terror stabs him all over.
“What? What is it?”
“They were in a car accident. Her mom … I think her mom shot herself.” That last part