Tires squealed from all three vehicles, and my car came to an abrupt stop, dust settling around me like smoke. The van skidded to a halt next to the edge of the ditch. The sedan spun around in a full 360-degree turn and came to a stop facing me from a hundred yards away. I got a good look at the driver, a clean-cut blond man in his early fifties. His cold stare showed bitter rage and the unspoken promise that our business together wasn’t through.
He restarted his car and reversed hard, sending more dust and gravel spitting out before he spun back onto the highway and hauled ass out of sight. I memorized his plate number, for all the good it would do me.
A tap on my window made me scream.
The driver of the van was standing beside my door, wearing a pissed-off expression. I considered going for the gun in my glove compartment, but this guy’s bad mood was the least of my worries at this point. My better option would be to play the sympathy card.
I burst out into tears, cupping my face and letting my shoulders tremble with exaggerated hiccups. I rolled down the window and between shaky breaths I said, “Th-thank God. I thought he was going to k-kill me.” I gave the van driver my best wide-eyed innocent expression, hoping my eyes had changed to that really dark shade of green that I’d been told made me look extra sad. Cash once said they turned almost emerald when I was in a foul mood, but normally they were a bright shade similar to celery.
“You okay?” All his rage vanished, and he had the nervous look of worry men often got when they saw a woman cry. Most guys didn’t know how to deal with a sobbing woman, and I was hoping for that kind of uncertain footing.
I opened the door, and he stepped back. He was a big guy, with a round belly and a huge bushy beard growing well past his chin. Under different circumstances he might have been imposing, but he smelled human, and that alone put me at ease. One man I could handle, even if he did decide to try something, but his manner led me to think I was safe enough to assess the damage on my car.
Both of the passenger-side tires were flat as pancakes. Glass glittered up from the gravel at me mockingly. Of course. And me with only one spare. Scooting to the back of the car, I let out a genuine gasp. The whole tail end of the Dart was scraped bare, with a dent nudging the trunk in. The bumper was damn near ready to come off. The man in the black car hadn’t been screwing around.
“Jesus,” the bearded driver said, coming to stand next to me. “That other guy did this?”
I nodded, brushing the warm metal of the trunk with my fingertips. Someone had wanted me dead really badly.
Chapter Four
I managed to convince the driver of the van I would be okay waiting for a tow truck on my own. Since his ride was unharmed and he had a bunch of perishable food in the back, it didn’t take much persuasion, but I could tell the idea of abandoning me bothered him. After swearing I was close to home and well armed, he agreed to leave me but made me promise I’d call his shop once I was picked up safely.
Apparently there were nice people left in the world.
I called 411 and was put through to the only garage in St. Francisville. Luck was on my side because the grumpy-sounding mechanic had no other pickups, and after taking my name and coordinates, he promised to be out to me in less than forty minutes.
I sat on the hood of my car with one of my used textbooks in my lap, trying to focus on the finer points of criminology, but I only managed to absorb every fifth word. By the time I’d read the same page ten times I shut the book with a loud snap and set it down beside me. So much for studying. The nagging worry someone might come back to finish the job was too much for me.
Playing with my phone, I debated for the millionth time whether I ought to call Uncle Callum and tell him what had happened. But the last thing I wanted was him bringing half the pack out here to protect me. It was