Billy & The Beast (Ever After, New York #3) - Eli Easton Page 0,75
Take a deep breath, and swing into that exit at the last second.”
Right. Right. I wiped the sweat from my brow. It occurred to me that they had Google Maps too, and might know there was a police station just ahead. Was that why they’d boxed me in? But that was giving them too much credit, surely.
And suddenly the exit was there. For a moment, I was so panicked, I wasn’t sure if it was the right exit. But then I saw the little green sign: Exit 75. I was almost past it.
I swung hard to the right. The slowing of the SUV in front of me had reduced my speed, but I was still going too fast as I careened down the exit ramp. There was a stop sign at the bottom. I slammed on my brakes, filling the car with the smell of burned rubber. I jolted to a stop just over the line.
There was a squeal behind me. I looked in the rearview mirror to see the white sedan barreling toward me.
“I took the exit. Now what?” I shouted.
“Go right. That’s Main Street!”
I don’t even know if I checked for traffic, I just floored it and turned right. “And then what?”
“Keep going on Main! It’s about eight short blocks. You’ll turn right on Limited Street.”
“They’re following me! They’re right on my bumper.”
“Shit. Are there other cars around?”
“Yeah.”
Lake Elsinore was a small town, but there was a decent amount of local traffic, which was annoying, because I had to slow way down. After being on the freeway, and in my desperation, it felt like I was in a slow-motion nightmare.
The white sedan was inches from my bumper now, much closer than any car would normally drive. The game was up. They knew I knew, and they wanted me to know I wasn’t getting away from them.
“I don’t think they’ll try anything around a bunch of other cars,” Aaron said, trying to reassure me.
“They do in the movies!”
After all, if they were professionals, their car probably couldn’t be traced. If they shot at me and drove on, it would be chalked up to road rage. Just as Sebastian Montgomery’s death was ruled a hit-and-run.
I’d never wanted less to be in a movie in my entire life.
“Aaron. What if they shoot at me?” My voice shook.
“It’s okay. I’m here with you. Stay with the traffic. It’s just a few blocks.” Aaron was trying hard to sound confident, but I heard the fear in his voice.
The light went green and the cars in front of me crept forward infuriatingly slowly. I followed as close to the car in front of me as I dared. To my left was a blue hatchback with a young mom and dad and kid in the back. They were having a normal, ordinary day. And I might be about to die. I kept looking at the car behind me, watching to see if anything like a gun was visible. The driver’s faces were stoic, but they were definitely intent on me.
“Name the streets as you pass,” Aaron suggested.
“Sumner,” I said, reading the sign. “There’s a market.”
“Good. Just a few more blocks. You can do this, Billy.”
“I love you, Aaron.”
“I love you, Bill. So much.”
I swallowed. “Heald Avenue.”
I glanced in the rearview again. The driver’s face was now angry and the woman was looking down, as if at a phone.
“Shit. I think they figured out I’m heading for a police station.”
He was silent for a beat. “You’re almost there.”
“Graham!” I said, reading a street sign.
“It’s the next street. Right on Limited.”
The white sedan got closer, tapping my bumper and jolting my car. But the car in front of me moved into the left lane so I sped up. And then the next street was there, and I turned right, barely making the turn.
“I’m on Limited!”
“Pass one intersection, and then it’s on your right! It might say Sheriff’s Department. Or Police.”
Aaron’s voice was shaking, but I hardly noted it, too busy watching the white sedan, which had turned and was coming up fast behind me. There wasn’t any traffic on this street and I floored it. I shot through the next intersection—a stop sign, but no cars—and saw the big stone sign that said Sheriff’s Department. I did a three-wheel turn into the parking lot and pulled up to the front door, stomped on the brake. My car banged a Visitor Parking sign.
“I’m here!”
“Honk! Don’t get out! Just lay on the horn. Keep your head down!”