his lap.
“Stop it!” he roars. “Q! Fuckin’ stop!”
“Where is he?” I scream. “Where’s Will?” I kick again. And again. And again, until we skid from the tarred freeway, onto the grass and dirt shoulder.
Moving too fast when the wheels touch the dirt, the car spins, bucks, jerks forward and back. Something heavy slams up against the bottom of the car, a thud, a screech, but we keep skidding. Dust plumes up even in the darkness, so the headlights cast an eerie glow into the night sky outside, and when we hit a pothole in the dirt, I bounce in my seat, and slam my forehead against the windshield until my vision turns spotty, and a cry rips past my lips.
Jamie unsnaps his belt, and dives across my body to hold me down as we spin, spin, bounce, and teeter onto two wheels. After a moment of terrifying suspension, the car falls flat again with a boom and a groan of the chassis beneath us.
Dust curls outside, and bugs zoom in front of the headlights to create a firelight-type glow. Hot breath, panting inhales, I lay bent like a pretzel, sideways in my seat, and on top of me, heavy as a tree, Jamie acts as my seatbelt. To keep me in place, and not smeared on the windshield.
My legs are folded under his weight, jammed at an awkward angle so my hips hurt, and my left knee feels just moments away from popping out of its socket. And my arm, cuffed and jammed between our bodies, feels like it’s on fire.
“Where’s Will?” I whimper. My breath races, shallow pants, because my lungs have no room to expand. “Jamie? You have to tell me.”
“You need to calm the hell down,” he grunts. The car has stopped moving, but he remains on top of me, holding me down. “You could have gotten us killed, Quinn. Because you wanted to throw a fucking tantrum instead of talk like a normal adult.”
From terrified, to angry, to weary, back to enraged. “Where is William?” I growl. “I will not ask anymore. I’ll go straight to cutting your throat out and leaving you here to die. Then I’ll find him my damn self.”
“He’s not here,” Jamie answers in a low, serious tone that he thinks brooks no argument. “He’s back at your apartment, taking care of business. But he’s safe, so stop freaking the fuck out.”
He’s home. He’s safe. “Okay.” Stay calm. Be calm. Sound calm. “And where are we?”
“We’re on the freeway.”
“Alright.” I remain stock-still, calm, pliable, but I use my right hand to feel around. The seat, the floor. I search for a weapon, and prepare to break my heart all over again. “Where are we going?”
“We’re going home.” He groans, and tries to push up just a little, but without giving me space. In the darkness but for the light coming from the dash, Jamie pulls back far enough I can see his eyes digging deep into mine. His nose is bleeding, his jaw shadowed from what might be a shoe-shaped bruise. “I’m getting you to safety. The rest can be figured out after that.”
“Safety?” I draw another breath. Faster. Deeper. Oxygenate my muscles, prepare to fight. “And Will?” My eyes flicker between Jamie’s. “He’s to stay out in the open? A target?”
“Not a target,” he growls. “A man able to move more freely because he’s not paralyzed with fear about his sister’s well-being.”
“So he’s… alone?” I swallow my pending panic. My rage. The betrayal I feel. “Will is alone?”
“Yes.” He pulls back just a little more, so now there’s an inch or two between his chest and mine. His eyes flicker to my forehead and darken. “You’re bleeding, Quinn.”
I gasp and reach up with my free hand. “I am? From the windshield?” I pull my hand away, and frown at the blood coating my fingertips. I’m trying to focus on Will, on Jamie, on my geographical location, on my burning arm. But then my brain goes to blood. To the fogginess that moves through my head. “I don’t remember hitting my head.”
“Yeah, well…” He huffs and pushes another inch or so away from me. “You were in the middle of a pretty big fucking meltdown. Are you good now? Can I sit up?”
“Yeah, I’m…” I reach up and collect more blood on my fingertips. “I don’t feel so good.”
“Nauseous?” Jamie’s eyes darken and flicker over my face. He’s pissed, but he can’t help his natural instincts to take care of me. “Do